Authors: Dawn Atkins
“I’m armed.” Jonah waved a thick stack of paper. “Internet
research.”
Rosie looked over at them. “Go home, Jonah.”
“Not until you listen to what we found out,” he said.
Rosie huffed a breath, but she stayed in her recliner, legs up,
hands clenched on the armrests like stubborn royalty. Cara and Jonah took the
beanbag chair and fuzzy mushroom ottoman, subjects at her feet.
“The doctor told us that with chemotherapy and radiation, the
long-term survival rate is eighty percent,” Jonah said.
“That’s drug company PR,” Rosie snapped.
“No, it’s not. I looked it up.” He put the printouts on her
lap. “Read it.”
“No need.” She handed it back.
“You are a stubborn old goat.”
Cara cleared her throat. “What Jonah means is that he loves you
and doesn’t want to lose you.”
Jonah looked chagrined. “Right. That’s right.” He exhaled.
“You’re all we’ve got.” He paused. “Do it for Evan. He’s barely sober. You croak
on him and he’ll sink into booze.”
“Don’t you dare play the booze card.” Rosie slammed down the
footrest and stood. “It’s too late. Don’t you get it? They opened me up. That’s
lighter fluid on a bonfire. I’m done for.” Her voice shook. “This is my life and
I’ll end it with dignity. Now leave me the hell alone.”
“Good-luck buns for dessert!” Beth Ann’s cheery voice from the
kitchen doorway made them all turn. She walked to them and held out the plate of
four rolls. “Everybody take one.”
The adults glanced at each other.
How much had Beth Ann heard? “Honey, we were just talking
about—”
“Rosie has cancer and she won’t get it fixed. I heard you.”
Once again, Cara had failed to protect her daughter from hard
truths.
“Take one and check your fortune. I already buttered them.”
There was nothing to do but pick up the rolls, so they did.
The smear of cold margarine disguised a rip in her bun, Cara
saw. When all four held good-luck clovers, she knew Beth Ann had made sure the
charms matched.
“Wow!” Beth Ann said with feigned surprise. “That’s good luck
times four. You’ll be safe for sure, Rosie.”
Cara’s heart squeezed. Her daughter was trying to help.
“First off, you rigged the rolls.” Rosie slapped hers back on
the plate. “And second, luck won’t fix me.”
“Because you don’t need luck,” Jonah said. “The odds are in
your favor.”
“Like poker odds?” Beth Ann asked. “Does she have the odds of a
full house? Or three of a kind? Or—”
“More like a pair,” Jonah said.
“You said any idiot can draw a pair, Rosie.”
“You’re too smart for your britches, young lady. I’m going to
bed.” Rosie stomped off.
Beth Ann’s face crumpled. When Cara reached for her, she gave
her the plate and ran down the hall.
“Go talk to them,” Jonah said. “I’ve done enough damage for one
night.”
“Rosie just needs more time,” she said.
“I hope you’re right. Call me if there’s anything I can do that
won’t make it worse.”
“I will.”
He looked at her for a few seconds, then pulled her into his
arms. “I’m sorry we dragged you into our mess.”
She felt better just being in his arms. “I’m sorry there’s a
mess in the first place.”
“If there’s a hope in hell of fixing it, you’re the one who can
do it.” With a last comforting look, Jonah left.
Cara found her daughter sitting up in bed, Bunny held tight,
eyes full of worry.
“Did I make her so mad she won’t get fixed?” Beth Ann
asked.
“She’d not mad at you. She’s scared about being sick.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” Cara sat beside Beth Ann with her back against
her daughter’s pillow. “She’s just scared. She needs time to decide to get
treated.”
“Oh.” Beth Ann sighed with relief, surprising Cara by resting
her head against Cara’s shoulder.
Cara brushed a strand of hair from her cheek. “I’m proud of you
for trying to help her. You have such a big heart.”
“I do?” After a pause, she added, “Jonah says you have one,
too.”
“Yeah?”
Beth Ann shifted to look at Cara’s face. “He said you would
always forgive me, no matter what I did.” Wary hope flickered in her blue
eyes.
Cara’s breath caught in her throat. “He’s right. I always
will.” She paused. “Is there something specific you mean?”
Beth Ann thought for a few seconds, then said, “Not really. But
what you said, the night I cried, about how I felt when you almost died?”
“Yes?” Cara held her breath. Beth Ann had never spoken of this
with her.
“I did feel like that. Scared and mad at you. And that night…I
felt that way again. My brain went, like, black. It was dumb. I acted like a
scared baby.”
“It wasn’t dumb. And you weren’t a baby. You experienced a
trauma. Doctors know that trauma stays with people for a long time. You’re very
grown-up and brave, Beth Ann. Almost too brave. You hold in so much.”
Cara swallowed before continuing, “I know I let you down. Maybe
you’re not sure of me yet, but I want you to trust me, to talk to me about what
bothers you.”
Beth Ann studied her. She didn’t speak, but there was relief in
the way she lay back against Cara’s shoulder. This was a breakthrough. Beth Ann
had talked for the first time about what had happened. Cara swallowed back the
tears that would spoil the moment.
“Did you tell Jonah that I cried?” Beth Ann asked abruptly,
turning to look at her. “Does he think I’m a baby? Is that why he won’t talk to
me anymore?”
“What?” That made no sense. “What exactly did Jonah say?”
“He said to talk to you not him about personal stuff. He said
he’s not good at it, but that’s not why. I know it.”
As her daughter spoke, it all became clear. Jonah had heard
Cara’s concerns about Beth Ann not confiding in her and tried to fix it in his
own clumsy way. “I think what Jonah was trying to do was help you and me talk
about our feelings more. Like we did just now.”
“What?” Beth Ann wrinkled her forehead, confused.
“He likes you a lot. He likes talking to you, but he feels like
you talk to him more than to me. He wanted to help us.”
“That’s dumb,” she said. “Are you sure?”
“Almost positive.” Cara’s heart seemed to break open in her
chest. “But I’ll go talk to him and be certain.”
“Will he get mad that I tattled?”
“Absolutely not. I’m sure of that.”
“Okay.” Beth Ann sighed. “I’m tired now.” She scooted down
under the sheet, ready to sleep.
Cara kissed her forehead. “If you wake up and want to talk, you
can call me at Jonah’s. The number’s—”
“In Rosie’s book. I know,” she said sleepily. “Good night.”
“Sleep tight.” At the door, Cara looked back at her daughter,
lit by the softly glowing peace sign—one more gentle gift from Jonah—and
smiled.
Then she ran to Jonah’s trailer and knocked on the door.
He threw it open. “Did something happen? Is it Rosie?”
“Rosie’s the same. Something happened, but it’s a good thing.
Beth Ann and I had a breakthrough and it was because of you.”
“Because of me?” He looked puzzled.
“You told her I had a big heart and that I would always forgive
her.”
“I said that, yeah.”
“Because of you, she opened up to me for the first time in a
long time.”
“So I didn’t step in it for once.”
He seemed so relieved she almost laughed. “You spoke from the
heart. And no one’s heart’s bigger than yours. Don’t doubt that.”
He turned red. “Thanks, I guess.”
Standing there on his porch, she realized how much she cared
for him.
And wanted him. This was more than desire. This was
yearning.
She
had
to be in
his arms again, to feel what she’d felt before.
Cara had stopped them because she thought she was hopeless, and
because of Beth Ann, but she knew better now. She could hold Beth Ann in her
heart and still be with Jonah.
“I want to try again,” she blurted, not thinking it through
first. “You gave me hope. I don’t want to lose that or give up.”
“You want to… I gave you…what?”
Her words weren’t sinking in for some reason, so she went to
kiss him, but he caught her arms. “We can’t do this. You were right to end
it.”
“But I thought you wanted…”
Me.
She
couldn’t say it. Hot shame poured through her, making her want to melt into the
deck.
“I did. I do, God help me, more than ever. But it won’t work.
It sounds simple, but it won’t be. There will be snarls. It would kill me to
hurt you.”
Cara stared at him, stunned, unprepared to argue, not sure she
should. Was he right? Would this be a mistake? Did she really know him? She’d
been wrong before. Dangerously wrong.
“Have a glass of water with me.” He held the door for her and
she followed him to his tiny kitchen while he poured their drinks. The moonlight
made the water glisten and turned the ice cubes to silver.
As she accepted the glass, her glance landed on his windowsill,
where two yellow hearts glowed up at her from circles of red. The good-luck
charms from three weeks ago. “You kept these?” She put them on her palm.
“Didn’t seem right to toss them.” He smiled faintly.
“Because it would be bad luck?”
“I think people make their own luck, so no.”
“Why then?”
“Because you got so embarrassed when they matched, had to
explain that they’d
clumped.
”
“I was afraid you’d think I set it up, that I wanted us to fall
in love.”
“That would have been crazy. You were on the way out of
town.”
“But I didn’t go.”
“No. You stayed for Rosie.”
“And I was glad to see more of you.”
“Same for me.”
“Despite the din…and the disruption?”
“Maybe because of that.” Jonah’s eyes held hers close, as if
understanding her was all that mattered to him in the world. Shadows made his
strong jaw stronger, the bones of his face crisper, his straight nose
straighter.
Cara studied the hearts glowing in her palm, and her doubts
melted like the ice in her glass. She wasn’t wrong to try again. She knew this
man. She’d seen him with Evan and Rosie and Beth Ann. He could be gruff at times
and clumsy, too, but he did his best for the people he cared about. And he cared
about her. He’d told her so. And she believed him.
Cara set down her water glass and locked gazes with Jonah. “I
do
believe in luck. I believe we’re lucky to
meet at this moment in our lives, when we’re both coming out of—what did you
call it, a rough patch? We can help each other.”
“Yeah?” He put his water glass beside hers.
“I don’t want to waste this good luck. We can keep it simple.
We won’t be together long enough to hit any snarls.”
“Damn, I hope you’re right,” Jonah murmured, “because I’m only
human and you’re too damn close and you smell too damn pink for me to resist you
one second longer.”
He leaned in and kissed her. She met his tongue with her own.
This time when the wave came, she let it take her, tumble her, make her tremble.
She pressed her hands to his back, letting the gummy hearts drop to the floor.
They’d served their purpose. They’d reminded her of Jonah’s good heart, of their
good fortune.
Cara was determined this time, sure she could power past her
doubts and fears on the strength of her feelings for this man and his feelings
for her. If she weren’t half his size, she would have carried
him
to bed.
Instead, she backed him into the living room, down the short
hall, so narrow they bumped both walls, then to his bed. He turned her at the
last second and lowered her first, lying at her side, looking down at her, eyes
burning.
She would think only of Jonah, a man who respected her, cared
for her, even admired her. A man she cared for and respected.
He edged his fingers under her shirt, stopping at her bra,
waiting for her signal. His jaw was tense, his muscles tight. He was holding
back, following her lead. He would go slow, touch her first, patiently wait his
turn.
But she didn’t want that this time. She didn’t want to be
fragile or tentative or nervous. She didn’t need to be. This was Jonah, not
Barrett. He would never trap her or try to own her or make her act against her
better judgment, let alone against her will.
“I want you with me,” she said. “I want us to be together.
Let’s get undressed.” They took off their clothes and Jonah pulled the sheet
over them, which made her feel less exposed.
He shifted his leg so it was between hers, the soft friction of
his hair delicious against her thighs, the pressure on her sex just right. She
felt him, hard against her stomach.
Jonah cradled her head in his hands and lowered his mouth for a
soft kiss. “I thought I’d never have you like this again.”
He deepened the kiss, his tongue more insistent, and she kissed
him back the same way. He shifted on top of her body. Bad memories teased at
her, but she forced them back.
Be here. Feel this. Jonah.
This is Jonah.
She gripped his butt with both hands, feeling the
curve of muscle, noticing how she ached for him, her body rocking toward him,
wanting him, ready for him, as he was ready for her.
This is good…so good…
She was doing
fine until Jonah stopped moving and reached past her. “Condom,” he said, giving
her a quick kiss.
It was only a few seconds, but it was long enough for her focus
to slip. Now he loomed over her, so heavy, so much stronger than she was. He
could overpower her so easily. Panic made it hard to breathe, and she knew it
showed on her face. She was glad Jonah was looking elsewhere, parting her legs,
easing into her body.
Cara had wanted this so much, longed for it, but her body had
gone numb.
She closed her eyes to fight her way back.
You want this. This is Jonah. Forget Barrett.
Barrett’s gone forever. Think about Jonah, only
Jonah.