Chapter 11 #2
What if Jack didn’t come back to her? If her husband walked up to her right now, would she even recognize him?
How could she—when she didn’t even recognize herself?
Drowning and flailing in an ocean of despair, she was a ghost of the woman she’d been, and it had nothing to do with her disease.
Her heart felt crushed, like the weight of an industrial press was pushing down on her breastplate.
Contrary to how alone she felt, she was aware of the people always around her.
Lilly had stayed. She’d taken over care of both Jenna and Ollie.
At one point, she’d forced Jenna to finally eat by practically shoving broth down her throat.
She made Jenna get out of bed and come downstairs.
She was sympathetic, grieving too, but ultimately, Lilly was ensuring that Jenna’s children did not have to bury their mother alongside their sister.
Jordan left college. Only a semester away from graduating, he found he couldn’t return to the campus where his sister had been murdered. Instead, he was packing his bags and going to spend some time abroad to help deal with his grief.
Lucy and Carter had returned to their home with Drew, needing to get back to their jobs and lives.
Lucy’s pregnancy was no longer the joy to Jenna it had been only a month ago.
The prospect of a new grandbaby hurt, because that baby would never know Melanie and it only drove home the reminder that Drew was too young to remember his aunt.
Jenna knew it was unfair of her to shun her children.
They were in pain just as she was, but she couldn’t stop the endless stream of fear, hatred, and anger floating around her head and infecting her every thought.
If she were a better person, she’d be keeping her distance in order to protect her children.
They should not see her in such an ugly state.
But the truth was, she didn’t want to see them.
Because every person who walked into her room, into her house, was not the one person she wanted to see. Even Steel fit that category.
She was long past denial and trying to bargain with the universe.
The moment Steel had left her alone at the reception, the moment she’d realized that her husband no longer existed, she’d stepped into anger, and unless Melanie walked through her front door, Jenna had no idea how to let go of that anger.
A lot of it was aimed at Steel. She didn’t blame him or think that Melanie’s murder was his fault.
She knew who had pulled the trigger, and Griffin Shaw was the only person who deserved that portion of her anger.
No, her fury at her husband lay in the fact that he couldn’t be in two places at once.
She was aware of how irrational that anger was, but she was in no way trying to stem it.
She wanted Griffin Shaw to pay for what he’d done, what he’d taken from them, but she also was pissed beyond reason that Jack wasn’t here to hold her, to grieve with her.
Mostly, though, she was angry at God. Church was the only place Jenna would willingly go now.
In a fucked up way, she felt more powerful there.
Not because she felt God’s presence or comforted by the scripture, but because her anger, her hatred, was stronger within the walls of the sanctuary where many had said their final goodbyes to Melanie.
Between Lilly and Louisa, they brought her nearly every day.
Her legs were practically useless, unable to hold her weight or support her for long periods of time.
Jenna couldn’t even find the energy to add her diagnosis to the list of reasons why she was pissed at God.
That would have been the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Thankfully the church had a wheelchair ramp.
Cage had actually been the one to build it, nearly single handedly.
When the club had created the construction business and Cage had agreed to manage it, he’d been the sole employee for a while.
Building handicap ramps on several of the churches in town was one of the company’s first contracts.
In Jenna’s church, he’d also removed the two front pews and installed shorter pews, a little bigger than a loveseat couch, so that two wheelchairs could fit on either side.
Prior to Melanie’s funeral, Jenna had never had to use one of the wheelchair spaces.
Jack had dutifully carried a seat cushion in a large reusable shopping bag when they attended services and never cared how slow she had to walk, allowing her to lean on him as much as she needed to.
She didn’t have him to lean on anymore. Neither Steel nor Jack was here to lend her the strength she needed to find the desire to walk again.
Some days Lilly or Louisa sat with her. Other times it was Pastor Melrose. But no one talked as she stared up at the large wooden crucifix. Day after day, hour after hour… Until one day, when she just couldn’t take it anymore.
Without true intent, she pushed her Bible off her lap. Some of her notecards and sticky tabs came off, scattering around the old, maroon carpeting that lined the aisle to her left. Her fingers struggled to grip anything today, curling into her palms like they were naturally trying to protect them.
Pastor Melrose stood from the pew. His lilac dress shirt was too festive for her dark mood, though his black slacks and belt contrasted the bright color nicely.
The pastor was in his early thirties. Clean shaven with tousled, brunette hair, she could easily understand why he drew so much attention from the youth and young adults in the congregation.
Ollie liked to call him “Pastor Yummy”. Hell, she was far too old and happily married to think such thoughts, but even she caught herself admiring him every once in a while.
Or she had, when such things mattered to her.
He squatted down, calmly picking up her notes and Bible. He easily brought the pile over to the pew and started to sort through the mess she’d created. “You’re going to have to talk to me eventually,” he said, side-eyeing her.
Jenna had never before snorted at a pastor, but she supposed there was a first time for everything.
Pastor Melrose did not notice, or ignored, her rudeness. “If you won’t talk to me, then you need to find someone to talk to. Dr. Rutenberg, perhaps?”
Dr. Rutenberg was a psychologist some of the club members saw to help with their PTSD and other trauma. He’d offered his services following Melanie’s murder, but Jenna had no desire to talk to him or anyone else.
Though she remained quiet, Pastor Melrose did not seem discouraged. She had always given him credit where it was due. To her knowledge, he’d never used his natural good looks and charisma to sway people. He was patient and kind, a true believer in the Word of God and the power of community.
“I can’t imagine the pain you’re in.” Finished with putting her Bible back together, he placed it gently on the pew beside him.
“I am not a father, but I did lose my mother a few years back. It’s a different type of pain, and one that I pray every day that no parent has to endure.
” He shook his head. “But, sadly, there are far too many who do know that pain, Jenna. Will you at least tell me how you are? What’s going through your mind? ”
Jenna’s jaw ticked, and the anger simmering around her heart turned her voice cynical.
“How do you think I feel? What thoughts do you think are going through my mind? You think I’m happy in any way?
Do you honestly think that there’s a possibility that even a single good thought has come to me recently? ”
Her words did not outwardly affect him. He rested his arm over the back of the pew, turning to face her more as he crossed one leg over the other. “I can see you’re angry. That’s good, Jenna.”
Jenna scoffed before wincing as her back spasmed. “Angry? Seems too mellow a word for how I’m feeling.”
Pastor Melrose nodded. “But you are feeling, Jenna, and that’s the point.” He reached over and patted her Bible on the pew. “I have a feeling I know who you’re angry with too.”
“Is this the part where you tell me that God is good and great and to believe in His plan for me?” Her voice was little more than a sneer. “To trust in Him and not lose my faith?” Jenna shifted in her chair, trying to find some relief for her back.
“Actually,” he commented, “I was going to suggest you yell at Him.”
Startled, Jenna turned her head to face the pastor for the first time. “Excuse me?”
Pastor Melrose gestured around them at the empty sanctuary. “No one’s here. Where better to shout at God than in a church?”
“You want me to…shout,” she hesitated, “at God?”
“You’re angry with Him, aren’t you? You feel alone and betrayed, angry that He gave you Melanie only to take her away from you?
” Pastor Melrose met and held Jenna’s eyes.
“So tell him about it. Shout it at the top of your lungs.” When she just stared at him in disbelief, he added, “God can take it, I promise you.”
Jenna clamped her jaw closed. Her brain was shouting at her to not listen, thinking it wrong to be so disrespectful to God. And yet… Her very soul was screaming so loudly it was deafening. She felt like a champagne bottle that had been shaken so much the cork was barely able to stay in place.
She wasn’t even sure what to say or where to start. She was sinking, drowning, cast overboard without a lifeboat. She had no right to question God or His plan, no right to be so angry or to wonder why her.
Her eyes lifted up to the crucifix on the far wall, and the cork popped. Jenna threw her head back, wailing out her agony and rage.
Griffin Elias Shaw.