Anything for You
Page 78
Instead, she leaned against her skinny father. There was nowhere else to go. Couldn’t remember the last time he hugged her. It had been decades.
Miraculously, Davey was still down at the pond with Chico. The best dog in the world, endlessly happy, always wanting to play and utterly, completely devoted.
She wiped her eyes with her sleeve.
“You know what I see when I look at Davey?” her father said, his reedy voice quiet. “I see the best kid in the world. He’s kind, he’s happy, he’s healthy. He has a good job—better than a lot of the jobs I’ve had, honestly—and everyone likes him. He grew up feeling safe. That’s all because of you, Jessie. You did that. No one but you.” Her father held her a little tighter. “It wasn’t fair, what your mother and I put on your shoulders. It wasn’t right. But my God, what a good job you’ve done! I’m so sorry you had to do it, and at the same time, I’m so glad it was you. I would’ve ruined him.”
More tears now, but these didn’t hurt as much.
The past was so heavy. Too heavy to drag with her anymore. She was so tired of being Jessica Does. So tired of being afraid and alone and taking care of everything all the time. She just wanted to be. To be normal, to be happy, to be light.
A yellow swallowtail butterfly landed on Jess’s knee and rested there, flexing its black-laced wings.
Her mother had loved butterflies.
“I’m so, so sorry, baby,” her father said. “Davey being the way he is, that’s all on me and Mom. Davey isn’t your fault. He’s proof of your goodness. Let me help, Jessie. Let me take care of Davey. Let me take care of you, even. Just a little bit.”
Her eyes welled up again. “I’m not so good at that.”
“You could be. You could try.”
Davey came lumbering up the hill, panting, sweaty and filthy, happy as peach pie. His face fell at the sight of her tears, and his own eyes filled. “Why are we crying?”
She laughed a little. “I don’t know.”
“Is it happy crying?”
She sat up and wiped her eyes. Glanced at her father. “I think it is.” She took a shaky breath. “Can I have another minute with Dad?”
He leaned down and hugged her. “I love you, Jess. Don’t cry.”
“Okay. I love you, too.” She hugged him back and kissed his cheek. “My best boy.”
He straightened up. “Come on, Chico Three! Come on! Let’s go!”
She took another breath, less shaky this time. “Okay, Dad. We’ll give it a shot. But I’m telling you, if you fall off the wagon, you never see either of us again. Ever. You have to stay in AA. I want someone to sign your time card or something. At least three meetings a week.”
“I have no intention of stopping now.”
“You get a breathalyzer for your car, so you can’t start it up without a clean reading.”
Her father smiled. “I already have one installed. Anything else?”
Her brain was soggy and tired. “Probably. I can’t think of anything else right now, though.”
He nodded and stood up, then offered his hand. “I love you, Jessica. I know I did a shitty job as a father, but I love you more than I can ever say.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CONNOR WAS THE last person to leave O’Rourke’s on Saturday night. He’d been working extra hours lately; Rafe had gone to Texas to visit his family, and the busboys were tired from a long run of packed nights at the pub. Monica and Hannah left after the kitchen closed, and Jordan had a date.
He scrubbed down the kitchen with more than his usual attention, then scrubbed down the bar, too, because while Jordan was a perfectly fine bartender, she lacked the OCD gene both he and Colleen had about cleanliness in the workplace.
He knew he was stalling. His house seemed to have grown in the past few weeks. He should probably rent out the apartment, too. “Ten more minutes, Fluff,” he said out loud, even though the dog couldn’t hear him; she was home, probably asleep on his pillow.
Thinking of his dog made him think of Davey.
He’d stopped by the candle factory the other day and practically sagged with relief at the sight of the kid, who ran over to see him. “How you doing, big man?” Connor had asked.
“I’m great! Did you hear I had a fire! And I put it out. And guess what? I have a girlfriend now. Miranda!” he called, “Want to meet my friend? This is Connor! Connor, this is my girlfriend, Miranda.”
“Very nice to meet you,” Connor said, though the girl opted not to come over. “Way to go,” he said in a lower voice.
“I made her toast on Wednesday,” Davey said. “With cinnamon and sugar. She liked it.”
“Of course she did,” Connor said, giving him a fist-bump. “So you doing okay, Dave?”
“I’m great!”
“I heard you got hurt in the fire.”
Davey held up his hands. “I got burned. But it’s better now.”
Connor nodded. “Good. Glad to hear it. Well. I just wanted to say hi.”
“Okay,” Davey said. “I have to get back to work! See you later!”
Since his mother’s wedding—it was easier than thinking since Jess had dumped his ass, or since Davey had been in a fire—Connor had made dinner for Colleen and Lucas when the pub was closed, and played with his niece, which basically consisted of holding her and seeing if he could get her to smile. He failed, but she did burp, which was pretty cute, too. He visited his mom and Ronnie in the Chicken Palace across the way. Went for a swim every day when he woke up. And even though the brewery was stalled, he spent his free time at the building, hauling out the burned floorboards and trash. May as well make it look nicer.
Anything to avoid thinking about Jessica.
The bar gleamed under the amber lights. There really wasn’t anything else he could do here. He’d go home, wake up Lady Fluffernutter and take her for a walk, avoiding Putney Street, so he wouldn’t have to see Jessica’s new house.
He went out the back door, locked it and breathed in the smell of shale and water, a little garlic lingering in the air from the pasta carbonara special.
The night was as quiet as a closed casket. Aren’t we cheerful, Colleen’s voice said in his head.
“Hey, Connor.”
He jumped. “Jess.”
She was sitting on the split rail fence between O’Rourke’s and the library courtyard, and got down. “How’s it going?”
“Uh...good.” As it had for the past twenty years, her beauty hit him right in the chest. Even now, when she wasn’t smiling and was wearing that three feet away face he knew so well.
He guessed she was here to chew him out about going to see Davey at work the other day. “How’s your new place?”
“Oh. Um, it’s nice. We moved in this past weekend.”
“I saw. You had quite a crew helping you.” She hadn’t asked him, needless to say. She had asked the rest of the fire department, more or less. “How is it, living in the Village?”
“It’s...it’s fine. It’s good. Look, I’ll get right to it. Would you like to get back together?”
He blinked. Twice.
One thing he could say about Jessica Dunn. There was no predicting her.
Miraculously, Davey was still down at the pond with Chico. The best dog in the world, endlessly happy, always wanting to play and utterly, completely devoted.
She wiped her eyes with her sleeve.
“You know what I see when I look at Davey?” her father said, his reedy voice quiet. “I see the best kid in the world. He’s kind, he’s happy, he’s healthy. He has a good job—better than a lot of the jobs I’ve had, honestly—and everyone likes him. He grew up feeling safe. That’s all because of you, Jessie. You did that. No one but you.” Her father held her a little tighter. “It wasn’t fair, what your mother and I put on your shoulders. It wasn’t right. But my God, what a good job you’ve done! I’m so sorry you had to do it, and at the same time, I’m so glad it was you. I would’ve ruined him.”
More tears now, but these didn’t hurt as much.
The past was so heavy. Too heavy to drag with her anymore. She was so tired of being Jessica Does. So tired of being afraid and alone and taking care of everything all the time. She just wanted to be. To be normal, to be happy, to be light.
A yellow swallowtail butterfly landed on Jess’s knee and rested there, flexing its black-laced wings.
Her mother had loved butterflies.
“I’m so, so sorry, baby,” her father said. “Davey being the way he is, that’s all on me and Mom. Davey isn’t your fault. He’s proof of your goodness. Let me help, Jessie. Let me take care of Davey. Let me take care of you, even. Just a little bit.”
Her eyes welled up again. “I’m not so good at that.”
“You could be. You could try.”
Davey came lumbering up the hill, panting, sweaty and filthy, happy as peach pie. His face fell at the sight of her tears, and his own eyes filled. “Why are we crying?”
She laughed a little. “I don’t know.”
“Is it happy crying?”
She sat up and wiped her eyes. Glanced at her father. “I think it is.” She took a shaky breath. “Can I have another minute with Dad?”
He leaned down and hugged her. “I love you, Jess. Don’t cry.”
“Okay. I love you, too.” She hugged him back and kissed his cheek. “My best boy.”
He straightened up. “Come on, Chico Three! Come on! Let’s go!”
She took another breath, less shaky this time. “Okay, Dad. We’ll give it a shot. But I’m telling you, if you fall off the wagon, you never see either of us again. Ever. You have to stay in AA. I want someone to sign your time card or something. At least three meetings a week.”
“I have no intention of stopping now.”
“You get a breathalyzer for your car, so you can’t start it up without a clean reading.”
Her father smiled. “I already have one installed. Anything else?”
Her brain was soggy and tired. “Probably. I can’t think of anything else right now, though.”
He nodded and stood up, then offered his hand. “I love you, Jessica. I know I did a shitty job as a father, but I love you more than I can ever say.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CONNOR WAS THE last person to leave O’Rourke’s on Saturday night. He’d been working extra hours lately; Rafe had gone to Texas to visit his family, and the busboys were tired from a long run of packed nights at the pub. Monica and Hannah left after the kitchen closed, and Jordan had a date.
He scrubbed down the kitchen with more than his usual attention, then scrubbed down the bar, too, because while Jordan was a perfectly fine bartender, she lacked the OCD gene both he and Colleen had about cleanliness in the workplace.
He knew he was stalling. His house seemed to have grown in the past few weeks. He should probably rent out the apartment, too. “Ten more minutes, Fluff,” he said out loud, even though the dog couldn’t hear him; she was home, probably asleep on his pillow.
Thinking of his dog made him think of Davey.
He’d stopped by the candle factory the other day and practically sagged with relief at the sight of the kid, who ran over to see him. “How you doing, big man?” Connor had asked.
“I’m great! Did you hear I had a fire! And I put it out. And guess what? I have a girlfriend now. Miranda!” he called, “Want to meet my friend? This is Connor! Connor, this is my girlfriend, Miranda.”
“Very nice to meet you,” Connor said, though the girl opted not to come over. “Way to go,” he said in a lower voice.
“I made her toast on Wednesday,” Davey said. “With cinnamon and sugar. She liked it.”
“Of course she did,” Connor said, giving him a fist-bump. “So you doing okay, Dave?”
“I’m great!”
“I heard you got hurt in the fire.”
Davey held up his hands. “I got burned. But it’s better now.”
Connor nodded. “Good. Glad to hear it. Well. I just wanted to say hi.”
“Okay,” Davey said. “I have to get back to work! See you later!”
Since his mother’s wedding—it was easier than thinking since Jess had dumped his ass, or since Davey had been in a fire—Connor had made dinner for Colleen and Lucas when the pub was closed, and played with his niece, which basically consisted of holding her and seeing if he could get her to smile. He failed, but she did burp, which was pretty cute, too. He visited his mom and Ronnie in the Chicken Palace across the way. Went for a swim every day when he woke up. And even though the brewery was stalled, he spent his free time at the building, hauling out the burned floorboards and trash. May as well make it look nicer.
Anything to avoid thinking about Jessica.
The bar gleamed under the amber lights. There really wasn’t anything else he could do here. He’d go home, wake up Lady Fluffernutter and take her for a walk, avoiding Putney Street, so he wouldn’t have to see Jessica’s new house.
He went out the back door, locked it and breathed in the smell of shale and water, a little garlic lingering in the air from the pasta carbonara special.
The night was as quiet as a closed casket. Aren’t we cheerful, Colleen’s voice said in his head.
“Hey, Connor.”
He jumped. “Jess.”
She was sitting on the split rail fence between O’Rourke’s and the library courtyard, and got down. “How’s it going?”
“Uh...good.” As it had for the past twenty years, her beauty hit him right in the chest. Even now, when she wasn’t smiling and was wearing that three feet away face he knew so well.
He guessed she was here to chew him out about going to see Davey at work the other day. “How’s your new place?”
“Oh. Um, it’s nice. We moved in this past weekend.”
“I saw. You had quite a crew helping you.” She hadn’t asked him, needless to say. She had asked the rest of the fire department, more or less. “How is it, living in the Village?”
“It’s...it’s fine. It’s good. Look, I’ll get right to it. Would you like to get back together?”
He blinked. Twice.
One thing he could say about Jessica Dunn. There was no predicting her.
