Chapter Eleven
“T his saloon dates back to the Texas Revolution, and it was the site of the battle that gave the town its name. You can even see bullet holes in the walls. It’s like the Alamo of the Hill Country,” Jessa explained as Tana and her daughter, Lela, took in their surroundings.
“Except unlike the Alamo, we acknowledge that Tejanos and Native Americans fought alongside the dead white guys, and that Stephen F. Austin was a slave-owning douchebag,” Amy added cheerily.
The long, rectangular table around which they’d all gathered—the four Star sisters, Cy and Easton, plus their visitors from Amarillo—fell uncomfortably silent.
Normally Jessa would’ve leapt in with a smoothing-over remark, but her smile was brittle from overuse, her brain such a tumult of stress and nerves that she could barely form a coherent sentence, never mind operate at her diplomatic best.
Tana and Lela had been in Last Stand for thirty-six hours and already it felt like an eternity. Jessa wasn’t sure what had happened between the mother and daughter on the drive down, but they’d arrived at odds with each other and stayed that way.
Lela antagonized her mother constantly, uttering a steady stream of passive-aggressive barbs to counter Tana’s primly disapproving observations. To be fair, Jessa couldn’t disagree with most of them—hot weather was to be expected in August, even in the Hill Country; what other people wore to dinner was none of their business; and the absence of crusty bread served before a meal did not mean a restaurant was a dive.
The result, though, was that Tana was constantly in a bad mood and increasingly contrary. The subtle distaste undermining every perfectly polite word she said had eroded Jessa’s confidence to the point she found herself apologizing for almost everything, from the noisy exhaust on a passing truck to the existence of a high-end tequila distillery. She was so anxious she was practically vibrating, and the void left by Caleb, whom she’d banished to Amy’s house in preparation for hosting dinner that evening, only made it worse.
Even now, knee-deep in awkward silence, the thought of him eased the tension in her jaw. She didn’t let herself think about the fact they only had a few days left, and she buried her resentment at her relatives’ visit stealing this precious, dwindling time with him. She had no plan for his departure and no intention to make one. For once in her life, she would simply savor the present and not spare half a damn for anything else.
Or she would, as soon as Tana and Lela were on their way back up north.
Josie and Easton returned bearing two trays of drinks, and although she was thankful for the conversational reset, as she helped pass out the glasses, she belatedly realized she probably should’ve deleted the saloon trip from the itinerary. Alcohol was a key point of contention between Tana, who sniffily informed them she didn’t drink, and Lela, who’d offered to make a round of cocktails just minutes after they’d arrived last night.
Too late now. Jessa handed Tana her ice water with lemon, shuffled her chair to make room for Easton and Josie to squeeze in, and took a hearty gulp of her white wine.
Only when their glasses hit the table in a synchronized thump did she realize all three of her sisters had done exactly the same.
They shared a fleeting, secretive smile. Jessa had to give them credit—despite their reluctance to help her prepare, they’d all pulled their weight when it counted. Even Amy, who Jessa frequently caught fighting a visible battle with her mouth, had dialed herself down from an eleven to a five.
They’d get through this, Jessa assured herself. Thirty-six more hours and they’d be done.
“Let’s toast.” Georgia raised her wineglass. “To Tana and Lela, for making the long trip down to see us, and to tightening the bonds between both our families.”
“L’chaim.” Josie tapped her glass against Georgia’s .
“L’chaim,” Jessa and Amy repeated. Easton and Cy echoed them as a complex matrix of clinking ensued.
“L’chaim!” Lela exclaimed.
“I was looking online, and there’s another bar in Last Stand that seems super fun,” Lela said once they’d all taken their symbolic sip. “I think it might be Irish-themed. McNulty’s?”
“McNab’s,” supplied its proprietor, Cy.
“Can we check it out later?”
Georgia and Jessa exchanged a coded glance. McNab’s was rowdy, sticky-floored, and loads of fun—and would probably send Tana into apoplexy. Perhaps they could sneak Lela out there if their aunt went to bed early, but it was iffy, and pissing off Tana was the last thing Jessa wanted.
“Maybe,” Jessa replied evasively.
“It’s a little far out of town,” Georgia said apologetically.
“The ranch is out of town, but we went there,” Tana pointed out in a tone that suggested the twenty-minute drive hadn’t been worth it.
Jessa cringed inwardly as she recalled their visit that morning. Easton had answered the ranch-office door breathless and flushed, with two dusty hoof prints in the center of his shirt. Josie was still out in a pasture rounding up the handful of cows that escaped through a knocked-down fencepost, and the delay gave Tana ample time to remark upon the dated décor, the leftover doughnut boxes, and the Lone Star’s vast acreage, which apparently far exceeded her expectations. Jessa wasn’t totally sure why that seemed to be a bad thing, but it did, if her pursed lips and Lela’s rolled eyes were any indication.
“Well, I’d like to check it out. Maybe after dinner?” Lela raised hopeful brows at Amy, accurately assessing her as the most likely of her newfound cousins to take her to a honky-tonk.
“We could, if you like, uh…” Amy glanced at Jessa for help.
“It’s very…local?” Jessa supplied.
Josie nodded. “More of a rural crowd.”
Cy sat upright, the limits of his patience evidently not stretching to the slander of his bar. “McNab’s is a perfectly respectable, safe, and affordable out-of-town establishment serving a range of clientele. I’ll take you there myself if you want to go, and your drinks are on the house, because I own it.”
Lela blinked at Cy. “You own McNab’s?”
“Alongside a multi-city portfolio of commercial property, yes. Yes, I do.”
Lela stared at him for another few seconds, then burst out laughing.
“Oh my gosh, that’s hilarious. See, he does have a real job,” she informed her mother before turning back to Cy. “She was convinced you were a drug dealer.”
“Well, I better get our dinner started or we’ll all starve before it’s ready.” Jessa clapped her hands together, tossing out a fake smile like a flare she hoped would distract from the grenade Lela had just dropped on the table. “Who’s in which car for the drive back to my house?”
Cy and Easton exchanged a glance she did not like the look of.
“Joze, I’ll have to drop you at Jessa’s and then head back to the Lone Star. I need to check on the…you know, that…”
Josie sat in stony silence, letting Easton squirm. Jessa almost felt bad for him. He was a terrible liar.
“The cows. I need to check the cows. But I’ll come pick you up after dinner.” Easton stood before she could argue.
“I’ll have to bow out as well, I’m afraid. Business to attend to.” Cy managed to make that sound both menacing and ironclad, yet Georgia’s expression was deeply unimpressed.
Amy raised a finger. “Actually, now that I think about it, I also—”
“Tana and Josie will ride with you,” Jessa snapped. “Georgia and Lela can come with me.”
Amy didn’t even bother to sulk, just watched wistfully as Easton and Cy, those traitors, said their goodbyes.
Forty-five minutes later the four Star sisters and their two long-lost relations were back at Jessa’s house, and although she’d entertained more than six people here before, her cozy cottage felt stifling and claustrophobic. Several rounds of drinks had loosened Lela’s tongue, and the more she explicitly lashed out at her mother, the sterner and more defiant Tana’s posture grew.
Intellectually Jessa knew that her aunt’s negative remarks weren’t personal, and that her deflective response to what was clearly a strained relationship with her daughter was probably part of what made it strained in the first place.
Emotionally, though, Jessa was a wreck. Tana’s sour disposition had been a flame licking at the rope holding Jessa together, and at this point it had burned through all but one taut, deteriorating thread. She’d spent so much time planning this visit, fretting about what Tana and Lela might enjoy, literally losing sleep over her estranged aunt’s opinion, and it had turned into a disaster beyond her worst imagining. It didn’t matter whether Tana’s dim view of her trip was clouded by her feud with Lela—that just meant Jessa hadn’t done enough to outshine it.
But she would, she promised herself as she bounced around the kitchen like a pinball, juggling the various stages of her three-course meal. She’d turn this all around. She’d make them all proud, those grainy, black-and-white ancestors whose silent, unblinking gazes rested heavy on her shoulders.
Then the smoke detector went off.
Jessa strung together her entire vocabulary of profanity as she yanked open the oven, where a piece of wax paper had stuck to her handmade pie dough. She peeled it off and threw it in the sink, and was flapping a tea towel at the smoke detector when Amy rushed in.
“It’s fine,” Jessa told her preemptively. “It’s not a real fire. Just a piece of paper that started smoking in the oven.”
Amy disarmed the smoke detector, opened the patio door, reached across the sink to open the window, and then moved beside Jessa to peer into the oven.
“That pie looks good. Will it be okay?”
“I think so.” Jessa slid on an oven glove and carefully rotated the pecan pie on the rack—and then dissolved into tears when she found the scorch marks scarring half of it.
“I was up until two o’clock in the morning making this,” she told her sister, hoping to ward off Amy’s inevitable scorn at her overreaction. Instead, her twin simply wrapped her arms around her and gave her a long, uncharacteristic hug.
“And I bet it’s delicious, even with a little cosmetic damage. We can figure out a way to serve it so no one sees that part. We’ll slice it in the kitchen, and then bring the plates out.”
Jessa nodded weakly. “That might work.”
“We’ll put ice cream over any dark spots and make sure one of us gets those pieces, okay? It’ll be fine, I promise.” Amy smoothed a wayward strand of hair off Jessa’s cheek.
“That’s a good idea. Thanks, Ames.”
“You’re doing an amazing job, sis. Anything I can help with?”
“Do you know any voodoo spells for attitude realignments?”
“God, I wish. I need two—one to get Tana out of her snit, and one to shut Lela the hell up.”
“I just wish they’d left this weird baggage at home. I’m sure they’re both nicer people than we’re seeing.”
“No comment.”
“Either way, you should go back out there and assure them the house isn’t about to go up in flames.”
“You’re sure you’re okay?”
“Positive.”
“Just shout if you need a hand. We’re all here for you, to make this be what you want it to be. You know that, right?”
“I know,” Jessa promised, and waited until Amy was safely out of earshot to pick up her phone.
Truth was, she was not okay. Despite her sisters’ backup, she was desperate, drowning, on the brink of collapse, and the idea of holding it together for the next several hours was overwhelming. There was only one person she wanted right now, and she didn’t care what anyone else thought. She might regret it later, but her need for him far outweighed Tana’s approval.
She called Caleb.
“Hey, sugar. How’s the visit going?”
Six words in that Tennessee drawl and her knees were weak.
“Can you come over?” she whispered.
He paused. “What did you say? ”
“Can you come to my house and have dinner with us?”
“Me? Are you sure?” he asked cautiously.
“Yes.”
“Is something wrong?”
“Not exactly, I just…” She blew out a breath.
She had nothing left to lose with Caleb, not if he was intent on leaving, not when their divorce was nearly final. She had nowhere to run and no reason to hide.
“I need you.”
“I’ll be right there.”
Ten minutes later the doorbell rang. Jessa sprinted across the house, ignoring everyone’s stunned expressions as she slipped out to the front step and shut the door behind her.
If Caleb greeted her, she didn’t hear it. She threw herself at him, clutching him tightly as his arms came around her, her eyes falling shut as she breathed in his scent.
God, she’d needed this so badly. What on earth would she do without him?
“That bad, huh?”
She nodded against his chest, belatedly realizing he was wearing a crisp, button-down shirt. It had pearl-snap buttons, but still.
Jessa drew back and took in the full view. He’d ditched his hat, and the low, lazy summer sun burnished his honey-colored hair to a bright gold. His long-sleeved shirt was tucked beneath a belt void of its usual oversized rodeo buckle, and the slight darkening of his square-toed boots suggested he’d wiped off the dust before putting them on.
“You look nice,” she fibbed, secretly missing the outlandish cowboy touches that made him who he was.
“Toned it down for the guests of honor. How’s it going?”
“Terrible. Tana and Lela have been bickering the whole time, and it’s put Tana on the defensive. She was so nice when we video-chatted, but now nothing is good enough.”
“Sorry, sweetheart. I know how hard you worked to get ready for all this.”
Jessa sighed. “I just want to get through it.”
“Well, you know I’m not real good in the kitchen, but I’m happy to help however you need.”
“Don’t worry about cooking. Just do your thing.”
He arched a brow. “My thing?”
“You know, your whole smooth-talking, Tennessee mountain magic thing.” Jessa circled her palm.
“Worked on you, I guess.” He winked.
Jessa rolled her eyes, but a smile crept onto her mouth. She thumbed toward the door. “Let’s go. If you can’t turn this around, no one can.”
She squared her shoulders and led him through the door, popping on an eye-squinching grin as soon as she crossed the threshold.
“Tana, Lela, let me introduce my friend, Caleb Ross. He’s passing through town and he was at a loose end for dinner tonight, so I invited him to join us. I hope y’all don’t mind. ”
“Not at all.” Lela sized up Caleb like a cat evaluating a fat, slow-moving mouse. Tana nodded a greeting, while Georgia, Josie, and Amy fought with varying success to keep their expressions neutral.
“I appreciate y’all letting me crash your family reunion. I’m on my way out to Fort Stockton in a couple of days and I’ll be grateful for my last home-cooked meal in a good long while.” Caleb’s drawl was sweeter than honey drizzled on apple slices as he dutifully removed his boots without being asked.
“Fort Stockton,” Tana repeated evaluatively as Caleb squeezed beside Amy on the couch. “What sort of work takes you out that way? Oil and gas?”
Caleb blanched, but Josie jumped in.
“He’s a tractor mechanic. Best one I’ve met. Caleb got all our machines fixed up on the ranch, and then found himself a whole new book of business around Last Stand just through word of mouth.”
The ice in Tana’s expression melted slightly. Evidently tractor mechanic was on her list of acceptable occupations, which Jessa supposed made sense in her worldview. She probably hadn’t met any district attorneys or female firefighters before, but a man in a clean shirt who fixed farm equipment for a living made perfect sense.
She felt better and better about calling Caleb over—even if her sisters were shooting her unsubtle glares at every opportunity.
“And are you also Jewish , Caleb?”
Tana pronounced the word like she was being forced to speak a foreign language—carefully, deliberately, and a little defensively, as if she was expecting to be criticized for getting it wrong.
“No ma’am, I was raised Baptist.”
Caleb’s response produced Tana’s first genuine smile since she’d arrived, and it might as well have been a bloody, toothless grimace for the way all four Star sisters quietly recoiled.
“I’d better keep an eye on the food. Appetizers are nearly ready.” Jessa turned on her heel.
A succession of excuses signaled that her sisters were right behind her. Soon the four of them were stuffed into the small, overheated kitchen, speaking in rough whispers so as not to be overheard in the living room around the corner.
“Is that her problem? What does she think we are, aliens?” Jessa slammed a pot on the stove.
“Hold up, rewind—why does your boyfriend get to be here and ours don’t?” Josie demanded.
“Because your boyfriends bailed, and anyway, Easton never talks, and Cy would probably snoop through their purses. Also, Caleb is not my boyfriend.”
He’s my husband , Jessa thought on a surge of affection so overwhelming it brought tears to her eyes. She turned her back on her sisters, busying herself with the food.
Josie crossed her arms sulkily, but Georgia nodded, moving around Jessa to set out plates on the counter. “Bringing Caleb over was the right call. Listen.”
They all paused as a peal of Tana’s laughter—actual laughter, not the forced, muted chuckle they’d battled to get out of her—rang from the other room.
“So much effort, when all we needed was a goy,” Jessa muttered unhappily.
“Which brings us back to the central issue, which is what the hell is wrong with that woman?” Amy said hotly.
“For real though, it’s not like we dragged her to temple services and made her say the Sh’ma. We don’t even keep kosher. This has been the most unreligious experience possible.” Josie sighed as she began counting out silverware.
Amy grabbed a set of tongs and helped Jessa portion the candied pecan salad. “Wait ’til she asks if there’s baby’s blood in the food. I’m going to say yes.”
“Let’s all cool down.” Georgia lowered her palms in a chill-out gesture. “We know Tana was raised in a culture that was so hostile to religious difference that they disowned their own children. She’s openly admitted that she’s not well traveled or well educated, and while those aren’t excuses, let’s be the better people and recognize that she’s not only uncomfortable, she’s not handling that discomfort particularly well. Our job is not to deprogram her, but to send her back to Amarillo confident that we represented ourselves and our family as best we can. Just like Jessa wanted.”
The sisters shared a moment of sober silence. Jessa glanced around her bombsite of a kitchen, and then at the meticulously arranged salads on seven plates, and realized her sisters had seamlessly stepped in to help, not because they cared what Tana thought, but because she’d asked them to.
She didn’t know why that lifted a weight off her shoulders, yet it did. Maybe because it reminded her that coming home to Last Stand was about more than what she had to prove, or positioning herself on a new stage.
She wasn’t performing alone anymore. She had people waiting in the wings, cheering her every step.
Jessa beamed at her sisters, newly grateful for each and every one of them—even Amy.
Especially Amy.
“Dinner’s ready. We got this. Stars on three?” she suggested.
“Hell no,” Amy scoffed, picking up two plates and carrying them out. Josie followed with a scornful shake of her head, and Georgia threw her an apologetic shrug on her way to the dining room.
Jessa grinned all the way to the table.
Two hours later, the longest dinner of her life was drawing to a close, and Jessa was drained and brittle. Thank God for Caleb, whose Southern charm was an essential antidote to Amy’s thinly veiled sarcasm, Georgia’s tension, Josie’s palpable disinterest, and Lela’s increasingly slurred retorts. Tana practically melted whenever Caleb spoke, then frosted back up if anyone else opened their mouth, and the vacillation between relief and urgent placation made Jessa dizzy.
As she served the dessert, Jessa considered that she’d begun this visit juggling a whole slew of delicate crystal balls, her brow sweating and her arms aching as she frantically kept them aloft. One by one they’d fallen, smashing on the ground, and now she stood in a field of jagged, broken glass, messy and dangerous.
The worst had happened. Everything had gone wrong. The weekend she’d planned so carefully was a complete disaster.
And she felt…fine. A little disappointed, sure, but mostly satisfied that she’d done her best and was ready to move on.
She sat with that awareness as the conversation momentarily hushed, forks clinking on plates as everyone ate. She didn’t know exactly when she’d shed her pulsing obsession with perfection, but she knew why.
The reason was sitting two seats away from her, determinedly eating the charred part of his pie first before Tana saw it.
Jessa used to think of Caleb as ridiculous and irresponsible, intent on wasting his time and potential, but he’d been right all along. Life was brutally short, and she was wasting hers, squandering her energy and passion on other people’s opinions. Choosing happiness wasn’t selfish, because when that invisible audience she’d been dancing for got up and left, it was all she had. That, and the people backstage, the ones who applauded even when she stumbled, even when she fell flat on her face.
For so long her only focus had been on being better, pushing higher, but wanting something so badly meant her life was incomplete. She didn’t have that drive anymore. She had goals, and dreams, but that punishing desperation for perfection was long gone. She couldn’t even imagine feeling that way again.
Maybe that meant she finally had everything she needed.
Or she would—if she convinced him to stay.
Jessa stared at Caleb across the table, her heart so full of longing she thought it might burst.
Only it wasn’t longing, was it? This emotion was new, and intense, and wonderful and scary.
She loved him. She was in love with Caleb Ross, bull rider, Tennessean, former Baptist, wild-running tear-away, honest and good-hearted gentleman.
Her husband.
Jessa’s anxiety flared anew, only this time it had nothing to do with what anyone thought of her. This problem was entirely in her hands, and that only cranked the stakes higher.
She had to keep him. She didn’t know how, or what that would look like, but there was no alternative. She couldn’t live without him, and she didn’t want to try .
The musical ring of her phone sounded from the kitchen. Jessa glanced at the time—after nine o’clock. Who could be calling her now? Their dad was still on his cruise, due to fly home next week. The short emails he’d sent had been peppered with words like good and nice —which in Mike Star terms meant he was practically delirious with joy—but something might have happened with his leg, or his heart…
“Pardon me, I’ll just make sure that isn’t an emergency.” Jessa stood up from the table and moved swiftly into the kitchen. She picked up the phone, unsure how to feel when she saw Kat’s number.
“Hi, Kat.”
“Jessa, glad I caught you. Listen, I’ve been revising the choreography, really trying to get clarity on my vision for this piece, and I’m afraid it’s just not going to work.”
Jessa blinked. “What’s not going to work?”
“I need to cast someone else in your role. Someone younger, more on the way up than coming out of retirement. It’s not personal. That’s just what the character needs.”
Jessa was speechless. Not because she was insulted, or appalled at Kat’s unprofessionalism, or rueful of how much time she’d wasted. She was all of those things, but that’s not what stole the words right out of her mouth.
She had nothing to say because she didn’t care.
“I’m sure this is disappointing, and it’s not about you, specifically. I’d love to work together in the future. I have the beginnings of an idea for—”
“Thanks for letting me know. I have to run—I have guests. Best of luck, though,” Jessa told her mildly, and ended the call.
Then she looked at her reflection in the microwave and grinned.
“Sorry about that,” Jessa said breezily as she returned to her seat at the table. “Turned out it wasn’t important after all.”
No—she wasn’t doing that anymore. No more sweeping dirt under the rug, no more careful omissions, no more pretenses. She was who she was, and she was done keeping secrets.
“Actually, it was important, but not in a good way. Last week I auditioned for an experimental ballet being staged in Austin. I was extremely nervous, and it took me a while to find my groove, but in the end, I thought I did really well. The director gave me the impression I did, too, only that was her on the phone just now, and she’s decided she doesn’t want me after all. Specifically, she wants someone younger and, as she put it, on the way up.”
Tana and Lela looked at Jessa blankly, unaware of the significance of this news, but her three sisters and Caleb gaped at her like she’d just grown an extra head.
“She said that?” Caleb broke first.
“Almost verbatim.”
Caleb opened his mouth, glanced at Tana, and settled for a dark scowl .
“Are you okay?” Amy ventured.
“I am,” Jessa assured them. “It wasn’t a great piece, anyway. Too simplistic, and the ending didn’t make sense.”
“Well, what’s important is that you tried, and you gave it your best,” Georgia commended, ever the oldest sister.
“If that’s the feedback she’s giving you before she casts you, imagine what she’ll be saying in rehearsal,” Lela piped up. “You’ve got your own business, your own life. You don’t need that crap. This pie is delicious, by the way.”
“Thank you. There’s one other thing I want to mention before I start the coffee. I’m married.”
Forks clattered on plates. Tana sat bolt upright, and Josie nearly choked on her wine.
Caleb watched her intently. She couldn’t read his expression, but she could’ve sworn she saw a sliver of hope in his blue eyes.
“Caleb and I got married in Hawaii two years ago. I kept it a secret because I thought it was something to be ashamed of. An impulsive lapse of judgment, a legal bond to a man I barely knew. I thought it would change how everyone saw me—maybe it still will. I guess I just don’t care anymore, because I’m proud to be Caleb’s wife. Proud a man of his worth would choose me.”
Stunned silence turned her dinner companions into an almost comical tableau, glasses suspended halfway to lips, mouths hanging open, eyes wide and unmoving—until a betraying tear slipped from one nearly identical to Jessa’s own.
“Oh hell, Amy, are you crying?” she exclaimed.
“No. Maybe. I’m just super proud of you, sis.”
Without a word they surged out of their seats and met in a hug, their arms wrapped tightly.
“Thank you for keeping my secret,” Jessa whispered.
“Always. But next time just tell us, okay?”
“I will.”
“What she said.” Georgia appeared behind Amy and took Jessa by the shoulders. “Nothing you could do will ever disappoint any of us.”
“Well, she could murder someone,” Amy pointed out.
Georgia rolled her eyes. “Capital offenses aside, you never need to hide from your sisters. We’ve got your back.”
“I suppose y’all want me to join your lovefest,” Josie grumbled, rising from her chair.
The four of them embraced briefly but tightly. Their silent bond had taken its share of hits over the years, but it remained unbroken, and Jessa had never been more grateful.
They separated and as her sisters moved back to their seats, Jessa glanced over at Tana, who sat still and stony.
“Also, Caleb isn’t a tractor mechanic. He’s a professional bull rider.”
Jessa smiled at him, but his gaze was fixed on his empty plate, his expression troubled.
She didn’t have time to contemplate that, though, because Tana’s sharp intake of breath and audible sneer as she asked, “A rodeo cowboy?” turned out to be the very last straw, the final push past a boundary Jessa had never dared approach before.
“Your attitude sucks,” Jessa informed her long-lost aunt, the woman whose favor she’d been fighting for this last day and a half. Who’d abandoned her mother and rejected her father and was nowhere near as contrite as she deserved.
Tana stared at her, her mouth open, shock and offense written in every line of her face, but it was too late. They had all lined up behind her, generations of her ancestors, bold and unapologetic Jews who nurtured and kept their faith even when it disadvantaged them, or isolated them, or made them vulnerable to harm and worse. They weren’t just watching her, silent with expectation—their hands were on her shoulders. Encouraging. Supporting. Loving her unreservedly, this strong, accomplished daughter of their ancient line.
As she glared at Tana, as righteous anger heated her chest, she heard her mother’s voice whisper her name in her ear, felt her hand on her cheek. And she knew she’d made her mom proud today, yesterday, when she exchanged vows with a man she barely knew, whether she soared or stumbled or failed.
“You’ve been a pill this whole weekend,” Jessa continued, her ire dampened but not extinguished. “I have no idea why, since we’ve been nothing but nice to you and we’ve all bent over backward to make you feel comfortable and welcome. I do know you better figure it out and fix it, or I’ll ask you to find a hotel for the rest of your stay. Lela, if you still want to go to McNab’s, Amy will take you tonight.”
Jessa cut into the pie she’d been too stressed to eat and took a bite, then looked up at Amy with a delighted smile.
“You were right—it turned out fine.”
Amy laughed, resonantly and genuinely, and that set the other two off. Georgia sniggered into her palm and Josie chuckled up at the ceiling, and after a minute of frozen bewilderment, Lela joined in, too.
Tana cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s attention. She sat up primly, smoothing the napkin on her lap, her expression sober and apologetic.
“I owe you girls a big apology. I know my ex-husband and his parents mistreated your mother—and that I was party to that, too—but I came here feeling defensive of our side of the family. All you girls are so accomplished and successful, I told myself you did just fine without us—mostly to make myself feel better about how we abandoned you. Rightly or wrongly, I resented taking the blame for what other people did, too. And with the way things turned out for you all, well, I told myself you had no basis to complain. You’re right, Jessa—that was a terrible attitude, and I’m sorry.”
No one said a word. There was nothing to say. Jessa flattened her hand on the table, steadying herself against the warring emotions churning in her gut: fury, resentment, acceptance, and reluctant forgiveness.
“My parents froze me out.” Caleb spoke for the first time since Jessa had blown the lid off their secret, had blown up altogether, and it was directly to Tana. “I decided I didn’t want to live like they did, boxed in by shame and judgment. I left, and they haven’t spoken to me since. Won’t let my brother or sisters speak to me, either.”
Tana watched him steadily, guilt written all over her face.
“You’ve done right to apologize, and I’m sure these nice women will accept it. But since their mama ain’t here to speak for herself, take it from me—no amount of money or success or happiness will fix what my parents broke. Nothing heals that hurt.”
I will , Jessa swore to him silently. If you’ll let me, I’ll make you whole.
“I’m sorry for that.” Tana put her hand on his forearm. “I’m sorry to all of you. I’m a work in progress, even at my age, and I’ll make sure I bring my best self to the rest of this visit—if you’ll still have me. And Jessa, I just want you to know that what you told us tonight is the best story I’ve heard in a long time. Marrying a bull rider in Hawaii, and such a handsome one to boot. Good for you. I wish I’d ever been that wild and free.”
Georgia notched her head to one side. “Let’s clear these plates and get some coffee. Then we’ll talk about the Jewish concept of teshuvah .”
The room devolved into a rush of tidying, everyone palpably grateful to busy themselves with something other than complex family dynamics—Jessa included.
At the same time there were truths she still needed to share, and she snagged Caleb by the arm as he passed. “I need to talk to you.”
“Later.”
She supposed his smile was meant to be reassuring, but it was thin and fleeting, and an icy arrow of fear speared Jessa’s stomach. He pulled away and continued into the kitchen, leaving her staring perplexedly at his retreating back.
She thought she’d made the right choice.
Belatedly she remembered the morning the divorce paperwork arrived—the paperwork that remained unsigned and untouched yet was visible daily, the manila envelope topping a pile of bills in the kitchen. She remembered the shiny, branded equipment he’d unpacked, those gleaming symbols of the long-awaited success that lay before him.
She thought he wanted her to be honest. To stop performing, to embrace her failures, and to be exactly who she was. She thought he wouldn’t want to be a secret.
But what if he didn’t want their marriage to be headline news, either?
He was just beginning to build his brand as a bull rider, and on some level, she realized she hoped she might have a place in that new story. But maybe she was overestimating his affection for her. Maybe she’d been misreading his cues for weeks.
And if that was true, she had no one to blame but herself. He was Calamity Ross, after all—unencumbered, unbothered, untamed.
Jessa worried her lower lip between her teeth, gazing unseeingly at the place he’d just left.
Had she gotten this all wrong?