Chapter 23
Chapter
Twenty-Three
JAKE
July 2013
“Hey, can we set up a time to brainstorm the shooting schedule for next year with what we’ve got so far?” Rita asked as she peeked her head into my office. “I want to plan our family spring break and summer trips ASAP,”
“What? Oh…sure. That’s great.” I was only half paying attention.
She walked all the way in and stood in front of my desk. “What’s going on? You’ve been more distracted than usual. And grumpy. I don’t know how to deal with grumpy Jake. It’s such a foreign concept.”
“Agh, I don’t know. Nothing. Everything.” I ran my hands through my hair and leaned back in my chair.
“I would say we could talk about it tonight, but everyone will be there, and it will be too crazy. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on now?” She sat down in the chair across from me.
“It’s Shelby. She’s been so distant ever since she left my house. We’ve texted a little and talked a few times, but she’s been…different. I don’t know. Guarded.”
Rita sighed, leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. “Well, if I’m being honest with you, I think she got rattled. If I was over two thousand miles away and one of my kids got into a car accident, I’d freak out. That mom guilt is like nothing else.”
Rita had three kids—a seventeen-year-old daughter, and fifteen-year-old twin sons. I hadn’t really thought about asking her questions about Shelby and motherhood because Brody was so much older. “But Brody is almost twenty-one. And it was just a fender bender. He’s fine.”
“I get that you think because he’s an adult, it would make it less traumatic, but I can tell you, those maternal feelings don’t change. I feel just as protective, if not more so, of my kids now than when they were small. It’s less about bumps and bruises these days and more about life altering decisions and poor choices with long term consequences.”
“I guess.”
“Plus, I think you need to consider that fender bender or not, a car accident itself could have been a huge trigger for her. After all, that’s how she lost her husband.”
I hadn’t thought about that. “Wow. I bet you’re right.”
“I mean, think about it. How would your mom feel if you had even the slightest heart scare?”
That punched me right in the gut and I immediately felt like shit. I hadn’t said anything regrettable or pushed too hard, but here I’d just been feeling sorry for myself when Shelby was likely going through an emotional crisis.
“Just give her some time and some space. Let her know that you’re here if she needs to talk.”
Why would she start now? I thought, right back to feeling sorry for myself.
“District at five. You better be there.” Rita poked her finger at me as she stood up. “This is a big deal.”
“I know. I’ll be there.”
It was a big deal.
It’s not every day your show gets nominated for an Emmy.
A few days later Shelby called, and out of the blue she asked me to come visit her in Wisconsin. Not only was this what I’d been wanting for weeks, but it had always been me making the plans, me orchestrating our time together. For her to finally initiate something, especially having me come to her home, I was over the moon.
And I would finally be able to talk to her. To tell her everything.
I called and booked a hotel room downtown Milwaukee for that first night, just in case. Confessing my love once again included confessing my ulterior motives that started this whole thing and I was more unsure than ever as to how that would go over.
I pulled up to her house in the late afternoon on a gorgeous sunny day. I was so excited to see her, but a sense of apprehension was clouding everything. I felt nervous and restless as I got out of my rental car and walked up to the house. I climbed to the top of the steps and peeked in the window. She had her enclosed porch set up with a retro couch with lots of throw pillows, a small coffee table, a few stacks of books, plants, and a vinyl record player. I smiled, picturing her spending time out there often with a cup of tea or a glass of wine, her legs tucked up underneath her, and a black cat curled up on her lap.
I reached my hand up to knock on the door when I saw Darius walking toward me from inside the house.
“Hey man!” he said as he opened the door and gave me a hug. “Nice to see you.”
“Hey! You, too.” I was a little taken aback. “What are you doing here?” Then I heard more voices coming from inside.
“Shelby thought it’d be fun to have a little party while you’re here. Come on.”
Darius began to lead me through the house. It was a 1920s bungalow, so charming and warm, with gorgeous wood molding and intricate built-ins. And as I expected, much of it was filled with mid-century modern pieces and decor. I could see and feel Shelby in every inch of the space.
I saw the vase I’d sent her proudly on display on an end table and it made me smile. Then, I immediately thought to look around for Minx. As if I’d willed her to appear, the beautiful, black ball of fluff strolled in and brushed up against my leg. I picked her up and she started to purr. “Just like your mommy,” I cooed at her.
The smell hit me as soon as we entered the kitchen. Something smoked and something sweet. It smelled like summer and my mouth started to water.
“Hi!” Shelby said as I walked into the kitchen. She was surrounded by Randall, Kendra and someone I assumed was Kendra’s husband. I made my way through the crowd and hugged Shelby tightly, trying to hide my disappointment that I didn’t have her all to myself. She let me go and Kendra immediately thrust a glass of champagne at me. They all held up their own glasses. I smiled when I realized they’d heard the news.
“An Emmy! Jake, that’s so fantastic!” Kendra gushed.
“Just the nomination so far. We’ll see how it goes. But we couldn’t have done it without Shelby.” I held up my glass to toast her, too.
She waved it off dismissively, but she knew better than to argue with me. The show would not have been the same without her.
We ate dinner out on Shelby’s back patio, the sun hanging low in those magical summer evening hours when everything just feels right with the world. Gary had smoked the ribs at home and brought them to finish on Shelby’s grill along with some fresh sweet corn. Kendra had brought homemade cornbread and Darius and Randall made a southwest style quinoa salad. It had been a long time since I enjoyed hospitality like this, and I was no longer annoyed that Shelby and I weren’t alone. I indulged myself in imagining many, many more nights like this in the warm company of her friends. Her friends that could become my friends.
Kendra and Shelby disappeared back into the house emerging minutes later with Shelby carrying some plates, forks and a pie server. Kendra came bearing the most beautifully intricate lattice crust pie I’d ever seen. Two red cherries with stems topped with a green leaf all made from dough sat artfully on top of the lattice. I nearly cringed when Kendra cut into the work of art, and I regretted I hadn’t taken a picture.
The smell wafting from my forkful of the warm cherry pie they’d served me mercilessly teased my nose just before I put it in my mouth. The crust was buttery, flaky perfection. An explosion of sweetness and tartness made my salivary glands spasm in the best way, and I am fairly certain I moaned in a manner that could only be described as pornographic. I startled everyone when I slammed my hand on the table.
“Holy shit, Kendra. This is the best thing I’ve ever eaten in my entire life!”
Kendra smiled like the Cheshire Cat, shaking her head as she pointed at Shelby. Shelby looked down and smiled bashfully. I should have known—the cherries on the top of the pie matched the tattoo on the inside of her wrist.
“You made this?” I didn’t want it to sound like it was something I couldn’t believe, but I couldn’t believe it. This seemed like one of those things you couldn’t possibly not know about a person. Like sleeping with Adele for seven months and having no idea she could sing.
I’d only explored Shelby’s surface, that was all she had been willing to show me so far. And me waiting, desperately wanting to know all her secret pain. But there was so much more magic in her depths than I’d ever realized, and I couldn’t wait to dive in headfirst. I couldn’t wait to hear all of Kendra’s stories about Shelby, middle school sleepovers, crushes and heartbreaks, embarrassments and triumphs. I would listen enraptured as Darius shared all of Shelby’s clients’ testimonials gushing over her magic hands and tender care. And I couldn’t wait to meet Brody and watch the mother in Shelby beam over her son—the love of her life.
“What is all going on here? This is not just any cherry pie,” I said.
Shelby’s little moment of self-consciousness was beginning to fade. She sat up straight and said, “The crust is flavored with vanilla bean, and there is a little cola syrup in with the fresh cherries.”
“Vanilla cherry coke pie. Damn,” I said in wonder as I took another bite.
“Shelby is the best baker ever. It’s a wonder we don’t all weigh four hundred pounds.” Darius said, chuckling.
“Did you learn as a kid from your mom? Or your grandmother?” I asked, already eyeing my second piece.
“Nope. Self-taught. Pretty much right after Brody was born.” She looked down and took a breath, then raised her head with a look of conviction I’d not seen on her face before. “I couldn’t do anything right in the kitchen as far as Ari was concerned. He was hardly ever home for dinner, so I cooked for Brody and me. But when he would get home and heat up leftovers, or if he was home and didn’t want to cook, he was always so critical of everything. Everything I did would be scrutinized and analyzed or just condescendingly dismissed. It wore me down. Over the years I just became numb to it.
“But Ari couldn’t bake. It wasn’t a skill that he was able to master, he was too heavy handed. So, I decided to learn how. He thought it was ‘adorable’ when I made cookies, cakes, pies. I could see it bothered him a little when I would successfully make proper puff pastry or fancier things like créme caramel and perfectly executed macarons. But when I tried savory things or made bread, that was encroaching too close to his territory, his insecurity, and he’d rip me apart again. So, I just stuck to sweet.”
“And how much bread have you made this last year, babes?” Kendra asked with a wink.
“So much. So, so much bread.” Shelby smiled with satisfaction.
I sat in shock processing the conversation that told me so much more about Shelby’s relationship with her husband and about his narcissism than she’d ever shared with me, but it was clear that she felt safe and comfortable in this company—bolstered by her friends. I also knew there was much more—more darkness that wouldn’t be shared quite so casually.
As we all helped to clear the table, I walked past the hall where Darius and Shelby were having a conversation. A conversation I wasn’t meant to be hearing.
“I don’t think this is a good idea. Why can’t you just take a beat? See how things go?” Darius said.
“I have to do this. He has to know, Darius.”
“I get that he has to know, but…”
I walked away quickly before I heard more. They were talking about me. If it was good, I didn’t want to spoil it. If it was bad, I didn’t want to know.
I had a thought. It was a reach, but it was what my brain had put together with the puzzle pieces I overheard.
Maybe, just maybe, Shelby wanted more. Maybe she was unhappy with our arrangement of every other month meetups. Maybe she was ready for something more serious, and she was unsure whether I felt the same.
I’d been here before. If it wasn’t me ending things because I’d lost interest after I’d “fixed” them, women I’d been involved with would inevitably become fed up with my obsession with my work and my reluctance to commit. They’d wanted more, and I was always unwilling or unable to give it to them.
But not now. Not anymore. When Shelby asked for more, I would give her everything. We’d make the distance work somehow. I wanted to share my life with her.
And I wanted her to be my date to the Emmys.
A little after nine, it was clear everyone was getting ready to leave. I was happy it was still so early, and I would have time with Shelby. Time to talk.
I got a little knot in my stomach. I needed to tell her so much, but decided I would let her go first.
I sat waiting in the living room as Shelby went around and turned off most of the lights in the house. She emerged from the kitchen with two small rocks glasses each with one cube of ice, and a bottle of Knoppogue Castle Irish whiskey. She put the glasses on the table and poured two fingers into my glass and hers. If I wasn’t already head over heels, this would have tipped me over the edge.
Shelby handed me my drink and sat down beside me. I moved my glass toward hers to clink a silent toast before we each took a sip. She smiled softly, but it looked pained. Like someone about to deliver bad news.
The silence became a black hole that immediately sucked all the hope from my heart.
I took another large sip of my drink, set it down, put my hands on my knees and braced myself. The conversation was not going to go at all the way I’d hoped.
Bolstered by her friends. They had been there for a reason.