Chapter 5 #2
Victoria, however, had barely unpacked her bags after marrying Jesse’s dad before she was demanding that the master bedroom be remodeled and an attached bathroom added.
That meant Jesse’s bedroom was cut nearly in half to accommodate the addition, while the larger bedroom was given to Tegan.
Victoria’s reasoning was that Jesse would be turning eighteen in a couple of years and, presumably, moving out. Whether she wanted to or not.
No shocker that Jesse had deeply resented the changes. Just as she resented Victoria throwing out the sturdy furniture her own mother had chosen and replacing it in a pretentious French style. The delicate pieces were cheap knockoffs that looked ridiculous in the rustic surroundings.
Switching on the overhead light, Jesse marched across the Parisian carpet that was layered in dust and yanked open the white armoire with gold trim.
The encounter with Adam Tillman had been a sharp reminder to her of why she was in a hurry to leave this godforsaken town.
Even more of a reminder than her chat with Parker.
Should that bother her? Probably. Right now she was more concerned with easing the anxiety that hummed through her body.
She needed to do something—anything—that made her feel she was in control.
Otherwise her thoughts would spiral out of control, leading her back to that black hole she’d been in before fleeing Canton.
Aware her breath was too shallow and her heart was racing despite the fact that Adam Tillman was long gone, Jesse grimly concentrated on gathering her father’s clothes, which were neatly folded on the wooden shelves to stack them on the bed.
Once she had everything in one place, she would sort through what could be donated and what needed to be tossed.
There wasn’t a lot. Her dad was never interested in clothes. Not even Victoria’s nagging could force him to wear anything but a pair of comfortable jeans and T-shirts with the Tap Room logo. If it was cold, he’d pull on a flannel shirt. Simple.
Next to the stack, she piled his running shoes and boots before covering them with his puffy overcoat.
On the other side of the bed, she tossed his underclothes and the toiletries she found in the bathroom.
She made another pile for the few personal items that she intended to keep.
The wedding ring from her mother, his class ring, and a few trinkets he’s saved over the years.
All of his business stuff was in his office on the second floor, or boxed in the cellar.
Once she was done, she stepped back to study the stacks. The meager amount didn’t bother her. The Mac Hudson she loved wasn’t represented by material belongings.
It was stored in the childhood memories of standing on top of his feet as they danced around the bar on a lazy Sunday morning, and teaching her to drive in an old VW that backfired whenever she took off, and his deep laugh that could make her smile no matter what was happening in her life.
It was in the hours he spent driving her to Chicago to find the perfect prom dress. A prom dress she never wore after her father was arrested …
With a sudden frown, she glanced around the room.
Any hint of her real mother had been eradicated by Victoria.
The wallpaper was stripped, the drapes changed, and the family pictures relegated to some unspecified location.
Then she’d replaced the silver frames with a dozen pictures of Tegan with her “new dad.” There wasn’t one that included her.
Now the frames were empty. As if someone had gone through the room to erase any memory of them.
Was it her dad? She couldn’t remember when she’d come in here after he’d disappeared. Surely she would have noticed if the pictures were gone? Of course she wasn’t thinking clearly at the time. In fact, she had no idea what had happened to the stuff Victoria and Tegan had left behind.
Jesse backed toward the open door, her heart once again racing. She suddenly didn’t want to be in there. It felt as if the room was closing in on her. As if the bare walls were squeezing together to trap her inside.
Shit.
She needed fresh air.
But the thought of leaving the bar was equally repugnant.
She wasn’t in the mood to cross paths with Sheriff Adam Tillman again. Or, frankly, anyone she knew from the past.
She was stuck.
No. Wait. There was one place she could go where she wouldn’t have to worry about unwelcome attention.
Grabbing the purse she’d dropped on a chair next to the door, Jesse scurried out of the room and back down the stairs.
She left through the front door, uneasy at the thought of being alone in the alley. It’d gone from mundane to creepy.
Turning away from Main Street, she zigzagged her way through the quiet neighborhoods.
There was a sleepy contentment spread over the tidy rows of homes that she strolled past. It was the end of August, which meant that school was back in session, and at this hour, most people would be at work.
She forced herself to slow her quick pace and simply enjoy the silence.
Soon enough she would be back in the hustle and bustle of Chicago. This hushed tranquility was one part of small-town life she truly missed.
Her heartbeat settled to a steady pace and the tension eased from her muscles.
She’d been carrying around a foreboding sense of dread from the moment she returned to Canton.
No, it’d been longer than that. The dread had started the moment Parker had suggested she come home and declare her father dead.
It was no wonder she’d been jumping at shadows.
For the next couple of hours she didn’t want to think about lawyers, or selling the bar, or Adam Tillman. And she certainly didn’t want to think about strange knocks and shadows following her.
She just wanted to be Jesse Hudson. A woman enjoying a quiet stroll on a sunny day with nothing on her mind.
Climbing the steps that were dug into the steep hill that led to the top of the bluff, Jesse ignored the paved road that led to the college campus and instead crossed to the line of thick fir trees. She ducked her head and pressed through the branches, the scent of resin thick in the air.
Once on the other side, she paused to brush away the sticky needles, her gaze sweeping over the rolling hill.
The Canton Cemetery dated back to the founding of the town in the early eighteen hundreds, with dozens of moss-coated crypts overlooking the river, while the lesser folk made do with simple graves spread along the crest of the bluff.
There was a newer cemetery on the outskirts of town, but both Jesse’s mother and father came from families who had traveled to this area in covered wagons.
They were born, raised, and buried next to one another, never leaving this remote town. As if clinging to one another would keep away the big, bad world.
Perhaps that was why they’d slowly dwindled to nothing, she acknowledged, strolling along the worn pathway, reading the faded headstones that clustered together. They’d gone from families with a dozen kids until there was no one left but her.
The quiet was even more pronounced as she halted next to a small headstone with small hearts engraved around the name Clara Hudson. She had matching hearts tattooed on her shoulder blade.
Bending down, Jesse brushed away the thick layers of dirt and dead leaves that had collected.
A pang of guilt tugged at her heart. In the past, her father took care of the grave, making sure the marble was polished and that there were fresh flowers in the copper urn, even when it had infuriated Victoria.
It hadn’t entered Jesse’s mind to return to Canton to visit the burial spot.
Partially because her mother was nothing more than a collection of stories told to her by her dad.
She knew that Clara was beautiful, and funny, and that she loved to cook.
Her favorite movie was Moonstruck, and she’d collected Hummel figurines that were safely packed away in a crate hidden beneath Jesse’s bed so Victoria couldn’t throw them in the trash.
Beyond that, she was nothing more than an aching void in Jesse’s life.
Now she kneeled beside the grave and allowed the silence to still her racing thoughts.
Her dad had often snuck away to visit this spot when he was feeling overwhelmed.
Even before he married Victoria and she’d started her constant bitching.
He claimed that just talking out his problems helped him to clear his mind.
Jesse closed her eyes, sucking in deep breaths.
She wasn’t there to talk out her problems. Honestly, when she’d made the impulsive decision to climb the hill to this spot, she’d simply been in search of fresh air and peace.
But now that she was here, she realized a part of her was hoping to connect with the woman who’d given her life.
She was so alone. …
Jesse wasn’t sure how much time passed. She sensed the sun moving until the branches from the nearby trees cast a welcome shade, but it wasn’t until she heard the squeak of rusty iron, as if the main gate to the cemetery was being closed, that she realized it must be five o’clock.
With a groan, she forced herself to rise to her feet, her legs cramping from being in one position for so long. She’d wasted enough time. She needed to get back to the bar and finish packing up her dad’s things so she could continue her cleaning.
Besides, there was a whispering breeze beginning to stir the air, as if the dead were urging her to stay.
With a shudder, Jesse left the cemetery the same way she’d entered, heading down the hill and strolling absently in the direction of the Tap Room. She didn’t have a particular route in mind, preferring to stroll along the edge of town. Or at least what used to be the edge of town.