Calamity Jena (Invertary Book 4) (34 page)

“I’ll explain everything when you want me to. You only have to ask,” Grunt said against Claire’s soft blonde hair.

She shook her head. “Matt told me everything already.”

Well, hell. He lowered himself to sitting. And right there, on the Donaldson doorstep, in the bright Scottish sun, he held his woman and gave her a safe place to grieve.

35

The funeral took place three days later on a warm Friday morning.

The Presbyterian church was filled to capacity as people came from all over to attend. Jena could have sworn the whole town was there to support the Donaldsons. The old building had been decorated with bunches of blue and white flowers. Someone played soft piano music. People were quiet.

Heather sat in the front row, flanked by the twins. Grunt sat beside Claire, sombre in his black form-fitting suit. Jena sat beside Megan, holding her hand while Matt walked to the front of the church. He was so handsome in his black suit, pristine white shirt and black tie. It made Jena’s heart ache to see the sadness in his eyes.

Matt nodded to the minister, took his place at the carved wooden lectern and looked out over the crowd. Jena gave him a tremulous little smile and watched his eyes soften.

“Dad was a great believer in accepting circumstance and doing the best you could with it.” His voice was strong. Jena wrapped an arm around Megan’s shoulders as she sobbed quietly beside her. Matt had wanted Jena seated with the family. He wanted her with him. And Jena was happy to give him what he wanted.

“He was also famous for his dodgy sense of humour, which often came out in the face of adversity. When he was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s he had these T-shirts made,” Matt said with a sad smile. There were titters of laughter throughout the church. People who obviously knew what he was talking about. “The one he had made for me said: ‘I’m with stupid.’ The one he wore said: ‘Who the hell are you?’” There was more laughter. “He followed that up with a shirt quoting Popeye on the front—‘I am what I am.’ And on the back it said: ‘Who was that again?’” More laughter.

Matt looked down for a minute before he carried on. Jena felt her throat tighten as she fought the tears that threatened. Heather sat in the seat along from her, tears streaming down her cheeks, but a wide smile on her face. Proud of her son. Devastated by her loss. Overwhelmed by all of it.

“I was lucky.” Matt smiled at his mother. “I
am
lucky. I grew up knowing some things for certain. I knew my family loved me. I knew they loved each other. And I knew my mum and dad were devoted to each other.”

Claire made a strangled little noise and Grunt wrapped her in his arms. She buried her face in his chest as her shoulders shook with silent tears.

“My dad was my example in all areas. He taught me how to be a man. He taught me that life wasn’t always easy or fair, but you accepted it and lived it as best as you could. He taught me that forgiveness was more important than revenge. Facing your fears more important than courage. And loving a good woman, having a family and helping your community were goals worth living for. He led a full life. He loved hard. Laughed hard. Played hard. Worked hard. He said if it was worth doing it was worth doing right. And he did it
all
the right way. Even his illness and now his death. He died the right way because he didn’t leave his family alone now he’s gone. We have the love for each other that he helped us build, we have the friendships he helped forge and we have a lifetime full of memories to make us smile while we wait to see him again. My father, my dad, will not be missed. Because he will always be with us.”

Matt strode from the lectern and took his place beside Jena on the pew. She wound her fingers through his and held on tight—thanking God, and Bruce Donaldson for the man his son had become.

Most of the mourners went from the graveyard to Heather’s house. Claire clung to Grunt, who looked like he wanted to punch someone for hurting her. His helplessness at her distress was a painfully beautiful thing. Megan busied herself playing hostess so her mother wouldn’t have to, although she stopped frequently to hug Matt. It was as though she was topping up her reserves of strength by taking from him. Each time he held her tight, kissed her hair and said something to make her smile.

Matt’s cousins, Harry and his soccer-playing brother Flynn, took turns checking on the twins and Heather. They patted Matt on the back when they passed and made sure no one was alone in grief. His aunt and uncle sat with Heather, one on each side, lending their support. It was a family united in grief. A family loving each other and holding each other up. It was the kind of family Jena had longed for.

As the house emptied, Jena helped clear up. Grunt had taken the twins home and Heather had refused her relatives’ offers to stay with her. She wanted to be alone with her memories, she’d said.

With the house clean and nothing else to do, Jena went in search of Matt. She knew it would be hard for him to leave his mum, and she was prepared should he demand they spend the night in Heather’s house. She found him standing in the hallway outside his mother’s bedroom. The door was ajar and Jena could hear voices. Quietly she walked up to him, wrapped an arm around his waist and rested her cheek on his chest. She could almost taste the pain and weariness emanating from his body. She’d hardly seen him since his father’s death, and knew the grief had taken its toll.

He swallowed hard as he wrapped his arms tightly around her.

“She’s watching his videos,” he said quietly.

Jena turned her head to see what he was talking about. His mom was sitting in a huge armchair with her back to the door. On the TV in front of her, a younger version of the man Jena had seen in the hospital was talking.

“So,” Bruce was saying, “I’ve been told I’m going to lose my mind.” He laughed. “It’s a miracle there’s any of it left after dealing with my wild wife and children all these years.” He cleared his throat as emotion robbed his speech for a moment. “I’m making these movies for you, my love. I know in the days, months, years to come that times will be harder for you than they will be for me. I won’t suffer looking at your face and knowing the pain of not being recognised, of not knowing I’m loved. But you will be loved. I can promise you that.” He sniffed and sat up straighter. “I have a lot to say to you before this disease robs me of my mind and memories, but I wanted to start with the most important stuff first.” He leaned towards the screen. His handsome face a hint at what Matt would look like in the years to come. His eyes softened with the love that poured from him. Tears gathered in Jena’s eyes and her throat clenched in pain.

“Heather, my darling,” Bruce said, “I might not remember you, or recognise you, but I want you to be certain of one thing. In my soul, I will
always
know you. My soul will always recognise yours. It might not be obvious, but don’t you ever doubt it. The love I have for you is soul deep, darling. It will never change, or fade, or disappear. It only grows with each passing year that you return my love. You have made my life perfect in every way—even when you made me mad.” He gave a sad little smile as he reached out. His fingers touched the screen as though he was trying to reach his wife. “Soul mates, my darling. We’re soul mates. It may get to the stage where I don’t know you in this life, but I’ll know you in the next. When our souls are reunited, you will never doubt that I always loved you. That I kept you hidden in the parts of me this disease couldn’t steal. So when things get tough, remember that. Remember I still recognise you in my soul. I still love you with all of me. Nothing can take you from me. Not this disease. Not death. Nothing at all.”

Jena turned her face into Matt’s shirt as sobs escaped her lips. He held her tight as he pulled the door shut on his parents.

“Let’s go home,” he whispered against her hair.

Jena nodded. She wasn’t sure if he meant her house or his, and she didn’t care. Home had become wherever Matt happened to be.

She wiped her eyes as he led her down the stairs and from the house.

36

Matt took Jena to his house. Not because it was home, but because he needed to see her there. Without her presence, the rooms were empty and sterile. And that was something he couldn’t bear any longer. He wanted to be surrounded by life, not by pristine organisation. He wanted the place to be full of colour and music. He wanted it to be full of Jena.

She didn’t say anything when he led her into his home. Although he was sure the characterless box the police force had provided for him made her lips curl in distaste. He could almost hear her thoughts. She would replace the ugly orange dimpled glass in the windows for sure. Then she’d get rid of anything even remotely beige. She’d fill his neat, lifeless rooms with colourful cushions and potted plants.

She’d make it a home.

Matt found himself longing for a home. A home with Jena in it.

As soon as the door closed behind them, Matt turned to Jena, backing her into the wall. Her wide eyes looked up at him, but she didn’t protest. He gripped her hips through the plain black dress she wore and buried his face in the curve of her throat. Jena. She smelled of springtime, of new beginnings, of hope. He breathed her in as her gentle hands stroked his back.

“I need you.” The words came out as a growl against her skin.

She tightened her hold on him. “Then I’m yours.”

The rightness of that sentence made him want to roar. He wrapped his hand tight in the hair at the back of her head, angled her face up towards him and took her mouth. It wasn’t a kiss. It was more. Part of him wanted to absorb her into him. Make her a part of him in a way that would never change.

She moaned into his mouth, making his blood heat. He used his weight and size to overwhelm her. He wanted her to feel all of him. To
know
all of him. Her breathing turned to panting as she yanked his jacket from his shoulders. He released his hold on her long enough to let it fall to the floor.

With desperation, he plundered her mouth. Drinking in her desire. Stealing her sanity. Possessing her need. She tasted vaguely of honey. Warm, delicious honey. Her slender hands fumbled over his tie and shirt. She growled with impatience and then tugged. Hard. Buttons popped. She sucked in a deep breath.

“I’ll buy you another one,” she muttered against his lips.

He didn’t care. All he cared about was the fact Jena’s hot hands were now running over his skin. A growl of possession escaped him as his hand found the zip at the back of her dress. He yanked it down, then unclasped her bra while he was there. He pushed the dress and bra to the floor before hooking his thumb into the side of her panties. He tugged. They ripped and fell away, joining the dress on the floor.

“We’re even now,” she said.

Her words barely registered. Matt’s need was driving him. His rational mind had given way to pure instinct and lust. He couldn’t get close enough. Couldn’t eliminate the distance between them.

Hands on her hips, he lifted her. Her legs automatically wrapped around his waist, as her arms wrapped around his shoulders. Sharp little nails bit into his scalp as her fingers grabbed hold of his hair. Matt reached between them, unzipped his trousers, pushed them and his underwear over his hips, and found her entrance. With one smooth thrust, he was inside her.

He swallowed her groan as her legs clenched around him. Their kiss was relentless. Wild and desperate. Matt felt the restlessness within him settle. At last the distance was gone. There was only Jena.

He moved against her in a slow rhythm at odds with the frenzy of their lovemaking. He wanted to know every inch of her. He wanted to possess her. To be possessed by her. To have them merge into one.

Gasps. Sighs. A pant. A moan. Muscles strained. Fingers clenched. Tongues tasted. He was in a spiralling freefall. Clinging to Jena as though she could save his life, his heart.

With a shuddering cry, Jena arched into him. Her head against the wall, her eyes closed. In the dim light from the window, Matt revelled in her flushed cheeks and swollen lips.

“Matt.” His name was a gasp. “Matt.”

He kept moving. He wanted more. He wanted all of her. He felt it. The force of her climax as it crashed through her and into him. With a growl, Matt followed. The two of them tumbling together, into bliss.

Jena was limp in his arms. Her breathing heavy, her heart pounding hard against Matt’s chest. He felt a smile curve his lips as he watched her. Holding her tight lest she slide to the floor.

Soul mate.

The words reverberated through him.

Slowly, languorously, her eyes opened. She licked her lips as she looked up at him, dazed and sated.

Yeah. She was his soul mate. And he was never letting her go.

“This is
definitely
a relationship,” he told her. He was firm. Serious. He wanted there to be no doubt.

Jena smiled widely as she blinked up at him. Her chest began to shake, and with a giggle she snuggled into him. With a shake of his head, Matt carried his giddy woman up the stairs. Tomorrow, he’d explain that he was never letting her leave him. But first, he really wanted to get her in a shower that had hot water. With a slow, wicked grin, Matt kicked open the bathroom door. The heaviness he’d been carrying around for years was gone. He’d found the purpose he was looking for. He’d found it in Jena.