Just Destiny Page 14

  Mom shut the door, took Jenny’s arm and guided her toward the kitchen. “Well, of course you’re not fine. Your husband died only a little over a month ago. Here, sit down and I’ll make you some lunch. Scrambled eggs or peanut butter and fluff?”

  Jenny went to the pantry and dumped a scoop of dog food into Ritz’s bowl before sinking into the nearest chair. “I’m not hungry.”

  “I’m sure you’re not, but you need to eat. You’ve lost weight.”

  “I’m fine. Eggs,” Jenny said at her mother’s frown.

  Mom took out two eggs from the refrigerator. After cracking them in a small glass bowl, she lifted it and wrinkled her nose. “Dear God.”

  She tossed them in the sink on top of the dirty soup pot and a week’s worth of grimy glasses, plates, and silverware. Jenny hoped colorful mold wasn’t fuzzing them but wouldn’t be at all surprised if it was.

  “Peanut butter it is,” Mom announced.

  “Third shelf on the right in the pantry,” Jenny said, too tired to get it herself.

  Her mom made the peanut butter sandwich and cut it in half. “I shouldn’t have listened to your father. I wanted to come over weeks ago, but he convinced me you needed some time.”

  Bless Dad.

  “But what do men know?” Mom slid the sandwich onto a plate and plunked it down in front of her. “Eat up and then we’re going to have a little talk.”

  Jenny diligently chewed each mouthful carefully before swallowing, more to make a show of eating and putting off the talk than because she was savoring the subtle melding of crunchy peanut butter and sweet marshmallow fluff. She hadn’t enjoyed the taste of food since Gabe died. Eating was just a means to keep her from getting queasy and for maintaining her strength.

  Mom silently loaded her dishwasher and scrubbed her pots and pans. Knowing what a meticulous housekeeper her mother was—an unwelcome neuroses she’d passed on to her daughter, Jenny was surprised she wasn’t mortified that her mother was cleaning her kitchen. Normally she would have been ashamed for her mother to see her sloppy housekeeping, but today she really didn’t care.

  Jenny ate the sandwich and drank the ice water her mother put before her.

  When the dishwasher was running, pots and pans dried and put away, and the counters scrubbed until the black granite gleamed, her mother sat down at the table and pulled her chair close.

  “So. I wanted to check on you and now that I have, I can see that I should’ve insisted you stay with us—at least for a little while. It’s natural that you’d spend days in bed mourning, but you need somebody to take care of you.”

  “I’m fine, Mom. Is Dad in China or Ireland this week?”

  “Ireland. You’re not fine.”

  “You should go with him one of these trips. A second honeymoon. I’d be happy to stay with Michael.”

  “That’s sweet—now stop trying to distract me. We were talking about you.”

  “I’m fine. I just need to figure things out.”

  “Like what?”

  “Things. It’s a little hard adjusting—okay, really hard,” she confessed. “I’m so tired of it all. Tired of the tears, the emptiness, the sadness. I thought I’d be ready to go back to work by now, but I can’t seem to concentrate on anything. I start out doing one thing, then get distracted by something else and before you know it, hours have gone by and I haven’t accomplished anything.”

  “That’s menopause,” her mother muttered.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” She shook her head. “It’s only natural. Everybody grieves in her own time.”

  “But it’s been more than a month and I still can’t work, even part-time? I need to work. I need to feel normal again. And it’s weird going out now,” she blurted, “even to the grocery store. I feel like people know. They know I used to be a part of a couple and now I’m not. I’m not a wife. I’m not an…anything.

  “When I used my credit card the other day and signed Jenny Harrison, I felt like a fraud. Like now that Gabe’s dead, I should give the name back. How weird is that?”

  Her mother raised her eyebrows and inclined her head. “Well, that’s a little strange, but kind of understandable. You’d only been married a couple of years. That’s really not all that long.”

  “It’s weird, Mom. I’m starting to freak myself out.”

  Mom pulled her close and rubbed Jenny’s back. “I know. But you’ll get beyond this. I know you miss Gabe terribly, but he’s not coming back. You’re no longer a part of a couple, so you need to learn to be strong and happy with yourself. You had a life before Gabe and you’ll have a life after him. You’re a smart, beautiful woman.” She patted Jenny’s hand. “You’ll be happy again one day. You will,” she said at Jenny’s doubtful frown. “When you were single you were never one to need a man to make you happy. You had goals and ambitions. What were they?”

  Life before Gabe? Hmm. She’d just started at the newspaper and hadn’t even made enough money to pay her bills. She’d been in debt to Dad and carried balances on her credit cards. She’d been fighting with Mom over Michael’s skateboard and accident. She’d been a royal screwup.

  Gabe had been this good-looking, successful doctor who loved her. He would’ve given her the world if she’d asked. Marriage to Gabe gave her a fresh start and a chance to remake herself into a better person—and she’d taken it, as if changing her name would change the person she’d been inside.

  “Jenny? What did you want out of life? You loved journalism,” Mom prompted.

  Jenny blinked. She had loved journalism—she’d sold a wonderful article on Steve to People magazine. That’d been nice, but all she’d really wanted was to be successful and feel good about herself. “To be a great wife and stepmother.”

  “And you were, but before Gabe. Who were you before him?”

  Jenny frowned. She didn’t want to remember those days—didn’t like that person very much. “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do.” Mom patted her hand again. “What would you love to do? Right here. Right now.”

  “Have Gabe’s baby.”

  “Something doable, honey. Something that involves just you. For you.” Mom smiled encouragingly. “You’re not a wife. Not a stepmother. Just Jenny. What would feed your soul?”

  She’d been so intensely focused on being the best wife and stepmother, it’d been years since Jenny had really thought about herself. She couldn’t even think of herself in that context. Besides, she was still a stepmom. “I…I don’t know.”

  “What have you always wanted to do, but never made the time for? Travel? A hobby? Going back to school? Volunteering?”

  Jenny blinked. Travel? Hobby? Too many choices. “I don’t know.”

  “Sure you do. You have all the answers in here.” She gently tapped Jenny’s temple. “And here.” She pointed at Jenny’s heart.

  “Not helpful.” Jenny rolled her eyes up as if looking into her head. “Nothing’s there.” Her brain and her heart were empty.

  Mom smiled. “It’s there. You just have to find it.”

  “Don’t you have to pick Michael up?”

  Mom looked at her watch and jumped to her feet. “Yep.”

  Jenny walked her to the door and whistled for Ritz. She gave her mom a brief hug. “Thanks for lunch and the clean kitchen, Mom.”

  “You’re welcome. See you at Michael’s soccer game, tomorrow? It’s home. Four o’clock.”

  “Today at four?”

  “Nope, tomorrow. It’d mean a lot to him.” She held Jenny’s gaze. “He really misses you.”

  Determined not to let the big age difference deprive either of them of a close sibling relationship, Jenny had always made time for her little brother since the day he’d been born. She religiously attended Michael’s home games, but with Gabe’s death, well, she’d missed a few.

  Way to pull the guilt card, Mom. Though she had every intention of making more of an effort to get to her brother’s games, she didn’t appreciate her mother usi
ng Michael to get her out of the house.

  She wiggled her fingers in a wave. “Bye, Mom. You’re going to be late.”

  She closed the door. That was one pushy Irishwoman, but she was well-intentioned and she’d made a good point. Volunteering? Hmm. As she leaned back against the door, a kernel of an idea tickled Jenny’s brain.

  Chapter 12

  Sunday morning, Jenny woke to the rumbling of her garage door opening. She sat up and looked at the alarm clock. Eight-thirty. She cocked her head at the click, click, click of Ritz’s nails as she trotted across kitchen floor. Then the back door quietly clunked shut. Jenny threw the covers back and tiptoed into the hallway. She peeked over the balcony railing. “Steve?”

  She couldn’t imagine Ritz allowing anybody else into the house without sounding an alarm. Rrr. Rrrr. A lawnmower purred to life, then the engine revved before it droned off across the front yard. Jenny hurried to her bedroom window and yanked the shade up just as Michael swung the mower around to cross the yard again.

  Michael was cutting their grass? How come? Why wasn’t he at church or soccer? Jenny jogged downstairs. In the kitchen, a small white pastry box from East Detroit Bakery sat on her island countertop. She flipped the box open. Glazed, Bavarian cream, chocolate, and sugar doughnuts—all her favorites. Jenny smiled at the strip of white receipt paper and the simple note scrawled across it: “Love you, Dad.”

  She picked up her phone and texted, Thanks for the doughnuts, Dad.

  That was so like her dad, unobtrusive, yet there if she needed him. Snatching a chocolate doughnut from the box, she threw a jacket on over her PJs and slid her feet into flip-flops on her way out the back door. Michael’s bike rested against the brick next to the open garage door.

  Her phone chimed with the eerie Harry Potter music Michael had downloaded and chosen as her text alert. Jenny looked at the message. Eat, little girl. Mother says you’re wasting away.

  Mom would enlist Dad’s help. He was probably on his way to China; he had to go there for work just about once a month. She texted a smiley face. Safe travels.

  Seconds later, a smiley face popped up on her screen. No reprimands, no guilting her into being happy, just gentle acceptance—that was her dad.

  Across the lawn, Michael, earbuds in place, trudged behind the lawnmower. Her eyes teared up at her sweet little brother cutting her grass. Not so little anymore—At nearly fourteen, Michael had just shot up six inches and was closing in on six feet. He was tall, lanky and skinny and had become endearingly shy as if uncertain in his new bigger body. With shocking blue eyes and dark brown hair, there was no doubt she and he were related. He pivoted the mower and set off across the yard again.

  What was he doing here? He should be out enjoying his weekend, hanging with friends and flirting with girls at the football games, not cutting his sister’s grass. Jenny frowned. Was this because she’d ignored his calls? She just hadn’t been up to putting up a happy front, so she hadn’t called Michael back. She didn’t want to scare her baby brother with her tears.

  Michael started high school a few months ago—maybe he’d wanted to talk. Maybe he had a crush on some pretty girl. Maybe he couldn’t decide which classes to take. Maybe he was being picked on. Maybe he needed her and she’d selfishly ignored his calls. She hadn’t been a very good sister lately.

  Michel turned at the far end of the yard, cutting one last strip. Naw…he wasn’t being picked on; her cute brother had always been well liked. Being a good-looking jock eased a kid’s way in school.

  Michael paused when saw her standing there. He pulled the earbuds from his ears, leaving them to dangle down the front of his shirt as he pushed the mower over and turned it off. His shy smile renewed her guilt for not making more of an effort with him lately.

  Jenny forced a smile. “Hey. What’re you doin’?”

  He shrugged. “Your grass was gettin’ long.”

  “Mom know you’re here?” Mom was always complaining that Michael constantly had to be reminded to do his chores. She wouldn’t be pleased that he was here working in Jenny’s yard if he hadn’t done his work at home.

  “It was her idea.”

  Her idea? Wow, Mom was worried. “You don’t have to. I…” she could get a service, but then again, it didn’t take a genius to cut a little grass. “I was going to get to it.”

  Michael shrugged again, then looked away as if embarrassed. “I don’t mind. We went to the bakery, then Dad dropped me off on his way to the airport.”

  She held out the doughnut she’d brought him.

  He shook his head. “I ate mine.”

  “Since when do you turn down a chocolate doughnut?”

  “You eat it.”

  She cut it in half and held out both hands. “I split, you choose.”

  Michael looked like he’d refuse, but she raised her eyebrows and tilted her head, letting him know she wouldn’t tolerate any refusal. He reached for the one that was fractionally smaller than the other.

  “Sorry I didn’t make your game yesterday—I was catching up on work. How’d you do?” Jenny hated that it sounded like the hollow excuse it was.

  Michael polished off the doughnut in two big bites. “One goal and two assists.”

  “That’s great.” She beamed, then suddenly felt sad to have missed it. “So what’s it like being at the bottom of the food chain again?”

  “All right.” Michael shoved his hands deep in his pockets as if he didn’t know what to do with them. “Look, Jen, I know Mom’s bugging you about comin’ to my games and everything, but it’s okay if you don’t. I get it.”

  Jenny cocked her head. “Get what?”

  “That you’re sad. Gabe was a good guy.”

  “Yeah, he really was.”

  “At first, you marrying my doctor was a little weird, but he was cool. He treated me like one of his kids. Helped me with my topspin and slice.” He looked away at the road, then down at his shoes. “I figure if I miss him this much, you must really miss him.

  Jenny nodded. “I do.”

  “Mom’s always bugging Dad about calling and visiting you. She wants to bring you food and stuff, but Dad says you need time.” He looked away. “When I screw up during a game or have a bad day, I’m so pissed off, I just want to be left alone.” He looked at her. “It’s not the same as someone dying, so you probably need more time.”

  Jenny swallowed a lump and blinked back tears.

  “But I figured it’d be okay if I cut the grass or did some weeding. I could brush Ritz and walk her once in a while. She probably misses him too.” He crouched down to pet the dog. “Don’tcha girl?” Glancing back at Jenny, he added. “I won’t bother you. Okay?”

  Jenny nodded.

  “Oh,” —he smiled and stood—“and don’t let her make you feel guilty about not coming to my games. You’re not missin’ anything.”

  Liar. Michael made the varsity team as a freshman—that was huge. He’d scored a goal and she’d missed it. Starting high school was a big deal. She was the adult. She should be supporting him, yet here he was cutting her grass, brushing her dog and lying to spare her feelings. She didn’t want to embarrass him with a sloppy display of emotions, so she ran a hand beneath her nose and took a deep breath. “So what’s her name?”

  “Who?”

  “The girl you’re showing off for at soccer games and don’t want me to meet.”

  Michael grinned and turned away. “Come on, Ritz. Where’s the ball? Find it.”

  There really was a girl? She’d just been teasing. “Is she pretty?” Jenny hurried after him. “Is she older?”

  Michael blushed and walked faster. He scooped up a tennis ball from the asphalt and sent it sailing across the driveway deep into the backyard. He swiveled his Detroit baseball cap so the bill pointed backward and pushed the lawnmower behind the racing dog.

  My God, he’s such a good kid. Her parents were doing a great job raising him. Hopefully she’d be as good a parent to her and Gabe’s baby. Jenny
returned to the house and glanced at the clock on the oven. Just enough time to call Alex and see how she was doing before her afternoon match with Steve and Annie.

  Jenny was impressed with how well Alex was handling her father’s death—Ted too. They’d returned to school soon after the funeral, and Alex called weekly to check on Jenny. Ted was a little less communicative, but then he was a boy. Jenny would call him after Alex. Even though he was a young adult, Ted and his dad had been close and losing a father couldn’t be easy for a son at any age.

  That Ted and Alex were so protective of her was sweet. Jenny had really lucked out that they’d worked out any resentments about their father marrying a younger woman early on and became friends. A slow smile lifted Jenny’s face. Cookies. She’d make them their favorite peanut butter surprise cookies while she talked to them. If she hurried, she could make a double batch and send some home with Michael.

  Energized for the first time in days, she jogged up the stairs to get dressed. It’d been months since Jenny had sent the kids care packages. Every college kid loved mail and her kids deserved a little extra pampering.

  * * *

  Late that afternoon, Jenny headed through the hedges to Steve’s. It’d been several weeks since operation “Trojan Annie,” and Steve had apparently noticed Jenny’s efforts at distancing herself from the couple. Her reasons for turning down his repeated invitations were starting to sound like excuses.

  To avoid an awkward confrontation, Jenny accepted the invite to hangout with Steve and Annie. To be honest, she’d missed Steve. Missed his company, his conversation, and the way he teased her out of a bad mood. No matter how hard she worked or what projects she took on to keep herself busy, life without both Gabe and Steve was lonely. Really lonely.

  Jenny gave a token knock as she twisted the doorknob and entered Steve’s house. In the kitchen, bare feet and a jean-clad butt greeted her as Steve leaned into the refrigerator. An untucked, faded polo shirt completed his ensemble.

  “Hey, Grant, ready to play?” Jenny looked around the room. “Where’s Annie?”