Again, I settled into a small routine as the construction workers settled in. I would get up and go for a run and then spend the rest of my day avoiding the work crews. Stella or Lanie called periodically to check in on the progress and see how I was doing. Lanie asked if I had started writing in my journal and I ignored her question. One particular morning, after completing an eight-mile run, I returned home to find the workers had not yet arrived. A quick check of my phone revealed a message from Jeff that none of the workers would be there that day because of the weather. After taking a quick shower and eating some granola, I found myself walking around the house. Over the previous few days I had ignored the last couple of boxes that needed unpacking. Finally, after stalling for about an hour, I turned my iPod on and let the jazzy sounds of Sinatra fill the house, which was normally filled with the sounds of hammering, talking and objects being slammed around. I settled in with the few remaining boxes. The first box was the easiest. It held books that Jay and I had collected over the years. He had told me that he was sending them to storage. Apparently, storage had been code for “I’m shipping them to the beach house of our dreams.” I had one more box to go and then I would be officially unpacked. The thought of being done gave me a renewed energy, which quickly faded as I tore open the last box. It was filled with most of my scrapbooks and many loose photos I often had floating around the house. All my memories were staring back at me, haunting me. Not being able to stop myself, I started to pull out the pictures and sort through them.
Time seemed suspended as I made my way through the box. I didn’t know if I had sat there for minutes or hours, staring at the wide array of glossy photos. Tears streamed down my checks as I looked into the eyes of my parents. There were photos from my parents during the good times, their wedding, my birth and every milestone in my young life; pictures of Stella and Lanie; and of course pictures of Jay. When I couldn’t stand it anymore, I threw the photos down and ran outside, thick tears now streaming down my face. I shimmed down the makeshift staircase the workers had created while they tore apart the deck. I was on the sand and had started running toward the beach when my foot got caught on something and I fell to the sand.
“Son of a bitch,” I yelled as pain shot through my foot. I got up and kicked the board out of my way. I could feel the anger building inside me and I didn’t know where to turn. From the corner of my eye, I could see that part of the deck had yet to be torn out. I walked over and picked up a hammer and crowbar and started working on the remaining boards. The tears continued to fall and anger overflowed.
“Sure. Mom and Dad bring me into this world only to screw it all up. Dad, you just couldn’t resist any type of drug, could you? Just couldn’t stay away. Where did that leave you? Jail! Mom, you said we would beat cancer. You said we would beat it!” I was screaming now as I tugged and pulled at those boards, throwing each one to the ground and working on the next. I was screaming at the ghosts of my past.
“And Jay, do not get me started … till death do us part … Well, now what? Now what? We had a plan, a future!” I was crying so hard I was having trouble breathing as I kept swinging the hammer. I was no longer pulling boards up. I was just swinging the hammer and repeatedly hitting the boards.
“Now what?” I shouted again.
Somewhere in the middle of my meltdown the rain had started to come down and soak my clothes, but I didn’t care.
“Lady, lady.” I could hear the shouting in the back of my head, but it didn’t register. I was angry and uncontrolled as I continued to shout and yell.
“Lady.” Someone was shouting much closer now, and before I knew it, a pair of arms wrapped around me from behind and held me tight.
“Let me go!” I yelled, kicking and struggling to break free. “They all let me down and now they are all gone and what about me?” I shouted again.
“Lady,” he said again, more gently this time. But he didn’t loosen his grip. I was still thrashing about and yelling. “Lady, calm down, please,” he whispered one more time in my ear. I tried to fight him one more time and slowly the fight left me. The tears continued to flow, and I finally gave into the strong arms wrapped around me.
“They all left me… What if it’s me, my fault?” That was all I had the energy to say as I slumped over and dropped the hammer, which hit the deck with a loud clatter.
“I’m going to let go now,” he said and slowly released his grip on me. I didn’t know what else to do. I spun around and buried my face into the shoulder of this stranger and cried until I couldn’t cry anymore. I didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. I felt my feet get swept out from underneath me and a strong arm under the small of my back. I was being carried around the house, up the front stairs of my own house and in the front door. He placed me gently down on the sofa, and I sat there in a comatose state.
“Um … is there someone I can call?” he gently asked me.
“There’s no one left.” As I said the words, I could hear the hollowness in my own voice. I folded over and lay down on the sofa, closing my eyes and drifting off to into a dreamless sleep.
CHAPTER 24
I
t was dark when I woke up. I could see a soft glow of light coming from the kitchen. I struggled to sit up as the room spun and my head was killing me. A blanket that had lain on the back of the sofa now covered me up and a cup of tea sat in front of me on the coffee table. I reached for the tea. My hands were shaking. The tea was still warm. I took a long sip and steadied myself. Somewhere not too far away I heard a soft guitar melody. Standing up and wrapping the blanket tighter around my shoulders, I followed the music.
Rounding the corner into the kitchen, I saw a shaggy blond, barefoot guy, sitting at the table and strumming the guitar. He was wearing a pair of jeans and white T-shirt. When the song came to an end, I stood there a minute or two longer, observing him. He lifted his eyes to mine and I gasped as I stared into a set of pale green eyes. They seemed endless as they searched mine.
“Two things,” I stammered. “Who are you? And I’m so sorry you had to witness that.” He paused a moment or two longer and finally replied, “Are you okay?”
“That’s a complicated question.”
“Shouldn’t be,” he commented quietly. He put his guitar to the side, stood up and walked toward me.
“My name is Ross Powers. I work for Jeff Powers. He’s my uncle.” He extended his right arm.
“Jill,” I said sheepishly as I shook his hand. As he stood there in front of me, I had a better chance to look at him. He was much taller and younger than I had initially observed.
“What were you doing here?”
“I was bringing by paint swatches.” He nodded his head toward a booklet that sat on the kitchen table. “I came to the front door, but no one answered, and then I heard the yelling. So I came around back to investigate, and I found you.”
We both knew the scene he had happened upon.
“Thank you. You didn’t have to stay.”
“Um … I was kinda worried. I don’t really come across scenes like that often. No one seemed to be around and I didn’t just want to leave.”
“Often?” I teased, trying to lighten the mood.
“Okay. Ever.” He gave me a shy smile and I couldn’t help but smile back.
“Can I make you something to eat or drink?” he said.
I couldn’t help but let out a short laugh.
“Let me let you in on a little secret. I live here and I should be asking you those questions.” I smirked.
“Right,” he said and turned to pick up his guitar. “I really should be going. You are going to be okay, right?”
“I’m going to be fine,” I lied with a smile. “Where are your shoes?” I wondered out loud.
“Oh, I left them by the front door. I didn’t want to track mud into your house.”
“It was raining, wasn’t it?” He turned and looked at me, lifting an eyebrow in a question mark. “Didn’t you notice?”
“Apparently not.”
“Did anyone else on the crew witness my meltdown?” I asked quietly, forgetting that Jeff had already called to tell me no one would be coming by because of the bad weather.
“Nope. Just me—”
“Lucky you.”
“Your secret is safe with me.” He winked at me and made his way toward the door, pulling on a pair of worn Converse sneakers.
“Seriously, Ross. Thank you.”
He shrugged his shoulders and turned to leave. Halfway down the stairs, he paused and looked back.
“See you tomorrow, Jill.” He flashed a wide grin and turned and left.
I carefully shut the door and walked through the dark house, turning on the occasional light and locking the doors. I made my way upstairs and there in my bedroom sat the large pile of pictures that had started my tirade. I brushed them out of the doorway, moved across the room and turned on the bedside light. My phone sat on the nightstand and when I glanced down, I saw I had three missed calls, one from Stella and two from Lanie. They were probably wondering what was going on with me. I was wondering the same thing as I rolled over and tried to drift off to sleep before the nightmares started.
I woke up later than usual. I could hear the Powers crew already at work, banging and hammering. I rose slowly as my head continued to pound from the night before. Just then, my phone rang. Wearily, I reached for it.
“Hello?” I rasped.
“Jill, are you okay?” Lanie shrilled.
“I’m fine.”
“Don’t give me any of that ‘I’m fine’ BS. You haven’t called in days,” She was practically yelling into the phone.
“Well then, honestly, I feel hung over,”
“Have you been drinking? That is really unhealthy … to do alone,” she ranted.
“Lanie!” I cut her off before she could go any farther. “I wasn’t drinking. I just had an … an … emotional night,” I stammered.
“Do you need me to come there?”
“If you need another trip to the beach, you just need to ask. You don’t need to make any excuses.”
“Jill, you know that is not what I mean,” she replied.
“Lanie, I appreciate the offer, but I’m okay … I was just going through a box of photos and everything kinda caught up with me.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth.
“That sounds reasonable,” she commented.
Did it?
“But I am going to let you go. My head is killing me and the construction and hammering isn’t helping.”
“Oh yea, I forgot. How is the house coming along?”
“Really well, but I will be happy when they are all done.”
“I can’t wait to see it. Oh, and Jill?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t think you are getting out of this conversation. I’m letting you go for now.”
“Not in a million years,” I said with a slight frown.
“Okay. Talk to you later.”
“Bye.”
My body continued to ache and my head continued to pound. I skipped the morning run and instead opted for a day on the beach. The kitchen clock said it was after 10 in the morning and the sun was streaming in through the windows and I could already feel the heat of the day. After making my way slowly through the house and out the front door, I headed toward the beach. I glanced around at the workers as I made my way around the house. A few waved and said good-morning, but no one looked familiar. I was beginning to think that maybe I had dreamed the entire incident the previous night. Maybe I was finally losing my mind.
I settled in on the beach and stretched out on the towel, the soft sound of the waves crashing down soon lulled me to sleep. I woke with a start. I was disorientated and unsure of where I was. The sun was much higher in the sky and I could feel the sweat sticking to my body. Slowly opening my eyes, I found myself in the same position I had fallen asleep in. Several families had congregated around me, and I wondered how long I had been asleep. My head no longer pounded. I smiled and sat up.
“I was starting to worry that someone needed to check your pulse, see if you were still alive?” a voice said behind me. Startled, I turned around and came face to face with those pale green eyes from yesterday.
“Ross, what are you doing down here? I thought you said you worked for your uncle?” I was confused.
“I do. But I try and catch the waves during my lunch hour,” he explained.
“Of course you do.” It was only then I noticed he was sitting on a brightly colored surfboard.
“I was just finishing up my lunch anyway. Didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said, holding up his arms to show he meant no harm.
“What time is it anyway?” I asked.
“A little after two,” he replied.
I had been asleep for almost four hours.
“What do you do for your uncle?” I asked, changing the subject. He didn’t seem like the roofing type.
“I usually run errands, some office work. In return, he lets me stay at his place here on the beach.”
“And what do you do when you’re not surfing or running errands?”
“I hang out, write music, chill.”
Could this kid be any more of a hipster? I stood up and brushed the sand from my legs.
“I’m going to go down for a swim.” I felt the need to explain my exit.
“Cool. I’m sure I will see you around.” He stood up and grabbed his board. “Oh wait! Did you have a chance to look at those paint colors?” he asked, pausing to look back at me.
“Nope. I forgot about them to be honest. I’ll look at them this afternoon and let Jeff—”
“You can just let me know. I’ll be around here somewhere most of the day,” he said and strolled off.
“I’m sure,” I said out loud to no one in particular as I headed down to the surf.
“Stella, I can’t understand what you are saying. Slow down.” I had come back up to the house and showered when I noticed I had three missed calls. I was now sitting at my kitchen table, with a large cup of coffee, staring at the paint swatches Ross had brought by the previous evening.
“Jill, he left it all to you.”
“Left what? Who?” I still wasn’t following Stella.
“Jay. He left it all to you,” she stammered.
“Tell me something I didn’t know. You were there when Paul Wellon explained all that the first time.”