Chapter Nine
Claire
Ihave another letter waiting for me in the mailbox when I get home after work. It’s been a couple weeks since my date with Jamison. We text daily, so I never expected to receive another letter from him. I shake my head. He’s crazy, but I’m so happy I have another one to add to my growing stack. There”s something extra special about receiving one of his handwritten notes.
The moment I step into my apartment, I flick the light on and drop my laptop bag by the door. I make my way across the room and settle on my sofa. I flick the TV on and let the latest season of Supernatural play. I open Jamison’s letter, pounding excitement sweeping through me. I learn something new about him every day, and it’s becoming rather addicting. I’m already ready to take the trip up north again.
My phone vibrates, but rather than seeing what it is, I read.
◆◆◆
Claire,
Oh, this has definitely come back on you, but I’m rather pleased with the turn of events. Although, I’m starting to run out of secrets. If we keep this up, I’ll have to start digging into the deep stuff.
I know my fear of spiders is strange, and I’ve never been bitten or anything, but have you ever seen Arachnophobia? Enough said. (I just cringed even thinking about it.)
Also, sidenote: I do have a mild obsession with movies from that decade. The nineties did everything right.
Storing that little fact about romance movies right along with dislike of bananas and your need to have pineapple on pizzas. Keep them coming, because I have another three weeks to plan our second date unless I sneak away from work and drive up sooner.
You don’t have to trust me to take you up yet, but one day I’m hoping I’ll be flying with you.
How are those ten-year-olds acting? Hope they aren’t giving you too much trouble this month.
If Alaska is where you want to be, then stay.
You shouldn’t have to give up anything you don’t want to give up. Live every moment of your life for yourself.
That’s what my mother always told me, and I’ve stuck pretty steady to her words of wisdom. We only have one life, so you have to live it without restraint.
Live it wild, in the moment, and do it for yourself.
Jamison
◆◆◆
His words twist something inside me. I go from happiness and worry that he says we are dating to a deep level of sadness when he mentions his mother. I know they had to be close with the way he talks about her. I absorb his words one more time, but when my phone buzzes again, I set the letter aside and check my messages.
There are a few messages from my mom and a few from Jamison. With a sigh, I open hers first. She texted me hours before.
We need to video message. It’s about Dad. He had a heart attack.
My heart drops. Breathing becomes difficult. I immediately video call my mom from my computer. Her face appears on the screen moments later.
Is Dad okay?I sign, fast and with shaky hands.
He’s at the hospital. He’s okay, but I wanted you to know.
I’m coming up.
Mom shakes her head, but I disconnect the call. I’m not sure if she was finished, but we can discuss more when I get to Casper. I rush around my apartment to put a bag together. There’s little thought to my actions, my attention all focused on my father. I can’t lose someone I love again.
The bright strobe of my doorbell catches my attention. I don’t ever have visitors, and right now just isn’t the time for them. I don’t know what’s happened to Dad, but I have to get on the road and get up there. I probably should have let Mom finish, but he needs me and I have to see that he’s okay myself.
I pull the door open, and all the air leaves my lungs when I see Jamison standing there. I rush into his arms. I’m not sure if he’s here about Dad or because he missed me, but I needed him. He’s here to catch me because I’m falling apart.
I pull away. You know about Dad?
Jamison wipes the tears from my cheeks and nods. He signs, asking for my phone. I pull him inside, my hand wrapped around his bicep.
My phone rests on the table, so I pick it up with my free hand and pass it over. He opens the text messages he sent me earlier, then leans over so I can read through them.
I need to know you’re getting my messages. It’s about Billy. We just flew him to the hospital in Kodiak.
He had a heart attack. I got him stabilized, and Chadwick got him to the hospital. He’s okay, but I’m driving to you. I know you’ll want to see him tonight.
I’m on my way. Gloria said you’re still in class, but she’ll keep sending you messages. Wait for me before you leave.
I look up at him again, squeezing his arm tighter.
Again, he signs, He’s okay.
I nod and pull myself together. I won’t get to Dad if I can’t focus. I take a deep breath, then tug on Jamison’s arm to have him follow me to my bedroom so I can pack an overnight bag. Releasing my hold on him, I shove things haphazardly into my bag. It’s like Jamison knew exactly what I needed and came to help me. I’m not sure I’m in any mindset to make the two-and-a-half-hour drive to Kodiak by myself. I struggle with the zipper. Jamison reaches around me to slide the zipper closed and lifts my bag onto his shoulder.
You text work? Let them know? he asks.
Right. It’s Thursday, and I still have class tomorrow. I shake my head. I’m so scattered that I’m not focusing on things well. Jamison swore Dad is okay, and I trust him, so I can calm myself the rest of the way down.
I send a message to my boss. He will get me a substitute, and my students will be taken care of. I take a deep breath and release it again. Jamison comes in for a hug, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me deep into his chest. I place my arms across his back, the cotton of his shirt wrinkling under my hands. He settles me. The mineral oil and earthy scent that clings to him settles my heart.
I breathe him in just as Jamison tilts his head down and presses against my hair. He’s kissing me. My heart gallops in my chest. His firm body mingled with the knowledge that his lips are on me causes my stomach to drop. I’m so thankful for his steady presence right now; his friendship and the way he dropped everything to be there for me makes a knot form in my throat.
He pulls away and leads me to the front door. I’m so lost in thought that Jamison has to turn the lights off, lock the front door, and lead me down the steps. He opens the passenger door and tosses my bag and purse in the back. I hadn’t even remembered to grab my wallet, but Jamison did.
He starts his Jeep, the low vibrating rumble soothing. He reaches across the center to grab my hand, the one I was nervously tapping against my knee. His long fingers wrap around mine and squeeze. His palm is warm and firm as it engulfs mine. There’s a worn callus that marks the inside of his palm, and his hands are rough from years of work. Hands I note he said had to work to save my father. The tears fall, and I instinctively lift our joined hands and kiss his knuckles, thanking him for what he’s done for me. He rubs his thumb back and forth across my knuckles, saying you’re welcome.
The drive up north is calm this afternoon. The breeze settles the last of my worries, and the constant warmth from when Jamison held my hand earlier is still there. He eventually had to let it go so he could drive.
We pull into the hospital parking lot, and I follow Jamison inside on autopilot. I’m crashing hard now that the adrenaline has settled. The memories of the last time I was at a hospital swarm in my vision. The blood and the pain I felt when Maddie was ripped away is pressing forward.
I step into my father’s room. He’s tied up to an array of machines. His face is paler, his white beard thicker than I’ve ever seen it before. His eyes flick to mine, and he raises his hands, which are held back by the IV lines.
Don’t cry,he demands with a weak movement of his hands. I walk over and take the spot at his bedside. He looks so tired and worn, not like the happy and bright spot he’s always been.
Are you okay? I ask.
I’m doing just fine. They said I’ll be out of here soon.
I close my eyes and think of how much my heart could have broken if I lost him. But I didn’t. I open my eyes again and reach out to squeeze his hand.
The sterile smell of the hospital causes my stomach to churn. The way the starch bedding scrapes against my skin when I pull my hand back feels like it’s tearing my skin off. The fluorescent light burns my eyes, and they are dry and itchy. I don’t want to be here. The last time I sat at a bedside like this, my sister never came home.
I’m sorry I worried you, Dad signs.
It’s hard, but I wouldn’t be anywhere else.
I know.
I reach out to squeeze his cold hand one more time. I’ll sit at this bedside for him because the alternative is too much to bear. Losing my father would be like losing a part of myself.
I already lost my other half when I lost Maddie, and there isn’t much more of me left now.