Return to Sender, page 7
part #1 of Pine Falls Series
Whitney and Kinsley caught my eye. It looked like Whitney passed on Kinsley’s cookies. Odd. “Your daughter’s beautiful,” I commented.
Jonah looked at his daughter with a mixture of adoration and something else. Worry, maybe? “She is. Thank you. I’m looking forward to you getting to know her better.”
I bit my lip. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
Jonah, with no thought for my unsettled state, took my hand as if it was the natural thing to do. Oh, how I had missed his touch. It was like Xanax for my soul. He clung tightly so I wouldn’t pull away. We had never touched in public before, except for when my mother was in hospice, dying. No one questioned his motive for holding my hand then. Any friend would have done the same.
“Please don’t leave,” he begged, as if he knew I was ready to bolt to anywhere he wasn’t. He brushed his thumb across my hand, sending sparks through my entire body.
“Jonah, everyone’s staring at us.” By everyone I meant our friends and his daughter, which made me feel self-conscious. What must his daughter think of this? Her parents hadn’t been divorced very long.
“Let them.” He turned me toward him, making sure we were eye to eye. He was several inches taller than my five-foot-seven frame, so I had to look up. Being this close to him made me realize Dani and Kinsley were right, there was something missing from his eyes. The playfulness that used to be in them was dimmed. My free hand itched to rest on his stubbled cheek, to caress it until the light returned to his eyes. But it wasn’t fair of me. Letting him hold my hand was already pushing it. I didn’t want to lead him on, lead him to where I had led him before—a dead-end road.
“Hi,” he said as if we were meeting for the first time in a long time.
It made my heart skip a few beats. “Hi.”
“I missed you,” he easily admitted.
I missed him too, but I wasn’t sure how to respond.
“I know you don’t know what to say, and you must have a lot of questions for me. I want to answer all of them, but for now, come sit next to me and my daughter. And quit pretending that you don’t want to.” He flashed me an impish grin.
My jaw dropped. “I haven’t seen you in nine years.”
“That wasn’t my choice.”
“You got married,” I said quietly. Not that I blamed him. I’d wanted that for him. I’d wanted him to be happy. I still did.
He pulled me a little closer. “I did, but that was past tense. This,” he pointed between us, “I’m hoping is present tense.”
“Jonah, you don’t know me anymore, and you shouldn’t assume I want or am ready for—”
He placed his finger on my mouth. “Shh. Don’t ruin our moment. You were always good at that.”
“Excuse me?” He was much bolder than I remembered.
“Come on.” He pulled me back to his table. “We’ll talk later.”
Dani and Kinsley shot me sly grins as they watched Jonah pull me along. Conflicting emotions coursed through me. It all felt so right, but so wrong. I definitely thought we should talk first. Then I could tell him I was as messed up as when he left nine years ago. Maybe even more so now. I could let him know that he was wasting his time with me. And I would probably mention that his daughter intimidated me.
Jonah pulled out a stool for me next to his daughter. “Whitney, Ariana is going to help you make an ornament.”
I wanted to say, “I am?” but the poor thing looked about as nervous as I felt. “I would be happy to,” came falling out of my mouth instead.
Whitney pressed her lips together. She looked as if a fierce internal debate raged inside of her.
She wasn’t the first kid in here afraid to try, though she was my youngest. The recommended age for my children’s classes was eight and up.
“Did you know that a long time ago, stained glass was used to tell stories to people who couldn’t read?” I asked her, part of me thinking she probably knew that, seeing as she knew so much about the process already.
Her eyes blinked a few times as if she couldn’t believe that people couldn’t read. “I can read.”
I had no doubt she could. She probably read better than me.
“That’s good then, you can make an ornament that helps tell a story. What story would you like to tell?”
She thought for a moment. “I love Little Women. I read it last year.”
I looked at Jonah to get confirmation. Wouldn’t she have been in preschool last year? What preschooler was reading Little Women? I didn’t read that book until I was in my twenties.
Jonah nodded uneasily.
“What grade are you in?” I asked Whitney.
She sat up straighter, which I didn’t think was possible. “Second grade. I want to be in fourth grade, but Father says I am too young.”
Jonah kissed Whitney’s head. “You are much too young.”
She folded her arms in a huff, obviously still put out over it.
I didn’t dare get in the middle of a family matter. Instead, I turned her attention back to what she feared. It was probably something similar to my fears, the unknown. I imagined it was even scarier for her—someone who knew so much, probably too much for her age. “What story would you like to tell with your ornament? You could tell the story of the March sisters’ Christmas morning. We could make a book or even a tree. Or you could choose something symbolic from the story, like the umbrella or the postbox.”
Her eyes lit up. “You have read it too?” She sounded surprised. This child needed to learn how to use contractions. What kind of school was she going to?
“A few times, actually. I relate to Jo.” The main character in the book vowed to never marry but does. Oddly, I always found myself upset when Jo turns down Laurie, her neighbor. On the other hand, I’m happy to see her end up with the professor.
Jonah gave me a knowing look.
“Why do you relate to Jo?” Whitney asked.
“She’s very stubborn.” I grinned. No need to mention my intent on staying single forever.
Jonah nodded profusely. “In the end, though, she comes around,” he added in.
I ignored his insinuations. “So, Whitney, what should we make?”
She tapped her finger against her lip. “What does the umbrella symbolize?”
My eyes inadvertently met Jonah’s. “Protection.”
Whitney turned into her dad and he put an arm around her. “I want to make that one,” she mumbled.
“I’m going to need your help cutting the glass.” I wasn’t prepared to make an umbrella.
She peeked at me, unsure. “Will it hurt?” Her voice trembled.
“I promise it won’t.” I held out my hand to her. “Let me show you.”
Her tiny hand slowly made its way into mine. When our hands met, grief encompassed me. I silently mourned for what could have been.
“I do not want to get hurt,” she reiterated to me.
“Me either,” I whispered.
Chapter Eight
I was soldering a chain onto Whitney’s umbrella—the final touch—while Jonah watched with Whitney sleeping in his arms. It was just the three of us. The class had ended over an hour ago and our friends conveniently left us by ourselves. I stared at the umbrella, perplexed by the little girl who chose bold purple, red, and blue because they were power colors. When I was five, I chose colors because I found them pretty. I never once thought about the meaning behind them.
“You were good with Whitney tonight. Thank you. I never thought she would break the glass apart after you scored it,” Jonah interrupted my thoughts.
It had taken some serious coaxing. I had to show her how to break the glass five times and answer all her questions about the exact properties of glass, and she insisted on googling injuries sustained by stained glass artists. I had to say how impressed I was by how fast she could type into her dad’s phone. After her research, she requested goggles and gloves before she would even try. I still couldn’t get her to try soldering, even with gloves and my assistance. Maybe next time. Wait. Would there be a next time?
“Can I ask you a question?” I asked Jonah.
“Anything,” he responded.
I placed my solder iron back in its stand and took a moment to stare at the sleeping beauty in his arms. “How do you make a kid like her?”
Jonah shifted her in his arms.
“I don’t mean that as an insult, by the way. I’m impressed. Maybe a little freaked out.”
Jonah gave me an appreciative smile while gently swiping Whitney’s bangs. “Sometimes it concerns me too,” he admitted. “She was born naturally intelligent, but Eliza and I didn’t do her any favors by focusing so much on it. I wish we had let her be a kid. I hate that she’s two grades above her age, and according to every standardized test she’s leaps and bounds above that, at least in some respects. Emotionally she’s still a little girl, even if she doesn’t believe it.”
“She must keep you on your toes.” I settled onto the nearby stool. I had a feeling Jonah wasn’t going anywhere.
“Toes and knees, praying that I’m not too late.”
I tilted my head. “Too late for what?”
“To undo my mistakes. I wish I would have been more vocal about my concerns earlier on.”
“Does your ex-wife,” I hesitated to ask, “feel differently than you?”
“Eliza is a good person,” he paused, “but she sees life as a series of goals to be completed and milestones to reach. She fears wasted potential like you fear me.”
Ah. He found a way to bring it back to us. I clasped my hands together and wrung them fiercely.
“I’m sorry, Ariana. That came out callously.”
“I don’t think you know how to be callous. And you’re right. Which makes me wonder what you’re doing here.”
He looked between Whitney and me. “At the beginning of the year, Eliza confessed that she felt like marrying me was a mistake.”
Whoa. That was harsh. But not unexpected. Isn’t that what I had feared for Jonah and me all along? But how could anyone think Jonah was a mistake? You know, except for me. But I wasn’t even sure I believed it. Therein was my dilemma. “I’m sorry, Jonah.” Truly, I was.
Jonah shrugged. “It was a long time coming. I suppose you would say I should have expected it.”
I pushed around some chain scraps on the table. “Honestly, I thought if anyone could beat the odds, it would be you.”
“I still plan on beating them.”
My head popped up.
Jonah’s set facial features said he was issuing me a challenge.
I was more than certain I knew what he meant, but it had been nine years. Nine years since I had broken both our hearts. I cleared my throat. “How do you plan on doing that?”
He leaned forward. “When I left Pine Falls, I meant to do so with no regrets, and at the time I thought I had, even though things between us didn’t turn out how I hoped.”
The heat rose to my cheeks.
“But after Eliza left me, I realized something. You are my person. You made me who I am, and I regretted not fighting for you.”
“Jonah.” I pled with my tone for him to stop talking like that. He had no idea the misery and ecstasy he was causing within my heart. I had regrets too, but I was in no state of mind to entertain what it sounded like he was offering me.
“Ariana, I know what you’re going to say. You think it wouldn’t have mattered, but I don’t believe it. You have no idea what it’s like for someone to fight for you. Your mother sure as hell didn’t, and as much as I love your grandparents, they didn’t either. Don’t even get me going on your non-existent, cowardly father. You need someone to fight for you. That person is me, so get ready.”
I had no words.
~*~
All I could think about while staring at Jonah across the table from me at Thanksgiving dinner was what he had said to me last week at the studio. It’s all I’d thought about all week as I had done my best to avoid him and his calls. It wasn’t surprising that he still had my number memorized. I would have kept avoiding him too, but I was guilted into coming. Grandpa and Grandma laid it on thick, saying this could be their last Thanksgiving and then adding that I was a grown woman and should quit running from my problems.
Little did they know I wasn’t running from my problems; I was trying to solve them. I had made an appointment with the therapist Dani had recommended—Goldie Hawn was highly offended I didn’t find her helpful anymore—but she couldn’t get me in until next week. Apparently, this was her busiest time of year due to the holidays. I only got in because I dropped Dani’s name and the therapist had a cancellation.
I figured Jonah at least deserved for me to have my head on straight before we saw each other again. I obviously had high expectations that this therapist could fix me fairly quickly. I needed her to tell me if I was right or wrong about how I approached men, one man in particular. This way I could either tell Jonah I was right and give him sound professional reasons for why he should move on, or I could tell him I was wrong and he still should move on because it was going to get ugly. Like probably a lot of me in the fetal position. There was a better-than-average chance some wailing would be involved and possibly some running—like the marathon kind.
Jonah deserved better than all that. He deserved the well-put-together woman who sat one seat over from him next to their daughter. It wasn’t awkward at all that his gorgeous ex-wife was there. I mean, it wasn’t like she was perfect. Except she was, and this was the most uncomfortable holiday of my life.
Eliza was all I feared she would be and more, now that I saw her in living color. Her dark blonde bobbed hair was impressively shiny, and her facial features were even, as was her smooth peachy skin. She had these alluring aqua eyes, and the perfect body dressed to the nines in form fitting pants and a jacket.
Me? I was wearing yoga pants because Dani and Kinsley had deemed them worthy of not being thrown away since they showed my shape. And for the fun of it, yesterday I bought a turkey sweatshirt to wear for the occasion. It was really classy. It said Gobble until You Wobble on it. To top it off, I was barefoot. Ms. Perfection was wearing expensive leather heels.
Jonah stared at me from across the table and nudged my foot under the table. At least I assumed it was him by his grin. If not, my day was getting more awkward because it meant it was Brant, who sat next to Jonah. Brock and Brant, for some reason, always ended up at Grandma and Grandpa’s for Thanksgiving, even though their parents lived in Carrington Cove. I think Dani mentioned something about John and Sheridan Holland going out of the country for some conference, so that’s why the twins were here. But I was pretty sure it had a little to do with our family tradition of eating pie first, and a lot more to do with Dani.
When I was certain it wasn’t Brant who was trying to play footsie with me under the table, I smirked at Jonah. He needed to stop being charming. I was determined to figure out my life before I got him involved. I didn’t care how good he looked in his tight jeans and dark button-up or that he was smiling at me as if I lit up his world. He didn’t deserve for me to reject him again, and I couldn’t handle saying goodbye to him one more time. I knew that left us nowhere. I was smart enough to know that the therapist wasn’t a magician. I knew she wouldn’t be able to wave a magic wand that would make it so that Jonah and I could live happily ever after, or perhaps more realistically, make me okay with the inevitable break up.
Why wouldn’t Jonah just let us be? I still loved him and thought fondly of him. I never wanted that to change. And if he couldn’t make it work with Miss Shiny Hair, there was no way we were making it with my turkey sweatshirt.
Grandma stood at the head of the table. “All right, beautiful people, it’s time to begin. As you know, we do pie first in this house.”
Whitney gasped, horrified. “You cannot eat dessert first. If you eat sugar first it will make you eat more and that is unhealthy.”
Each head at the table turned toward the precocious five-year-old who knew way too much for her own good and who seriously needed to learn how to use contractions. Whitney didn’t seem bothered to be the center of attention. On the other hand, Jonah cleared his throat and wrapped his arm around his daughter. “Honey, it’s okay for one day.”
Um. In this family it was pretty much okay every day.
“But Father,” she replied, “what about the obesity epidemic?”
Eliza smoothed her daughter’s hair. “It is wise of you to be mindful of such things. You do not have to eat dessert first, or at all, if that is what you choose.” Her alto voice was mesmerizing almost to the point that I didn’t want to eat pie first. But that thought quickly left my brain. I noticed Eliza also didn’t use contractions. Weird. I also noticed Jonah give his ex a pointed look. It wasn’t unkind, but it was apparent he was displeased.
In response, Eliza took a deep breath and gave him a nod. “Whitney, perhaps it would be good to try a different approach today. I did bring your favorite honey roasted peaches and Greek yogurt.”
That was right. I remembered Grandma mentioning that Eliza was health conscious and had asked if Grandma would be offended if she brought her own food. Grandma thought it was odd but didn’t see the harm in it. I wasn’t so sure it was harmless, judging by Jonah’s reaction and the fact that I couldn’t be friends with someone who didn’t like pie. Not that I thought Eliza and I would become bosom buddies. After all, she’d married the love of my life. And rumor had it she was staying with Jonah. Yeah, that bothered me even though I had no business being jealous. The exes were free to shack up as much as they wanted and do whatever they pleased.
“Would it really be all right to eat that first?” Whitney asked her mother, too concerned for such a little girl.
“I believe for today it will be,” Eliza responded as if she were pleased with herself for making an exception.
I looked between Dani and Kinsley who were sitting on either side of me to see if they thought this was as weird as I did. Their vacant stares said we were all on the same page.
