Sins of September (16 page)

For some reason my cheeks flush at the implication, but it’s probably just me reading something dirty into something perfectly innocent.

The phone rings later that evening. It’s Gram and Grandpa wanting to wish us a Happy Thanksgiving. They talk to me first, then Scout and then Jesse.

I can tell when they talk to Jesse that they’re discussing my return. I hear him assure Grandpa that my car will have the tires and engine checked before I take off for Meridian. There’s a sad tone in his voice and I’m glad that Scout isn’t around because she doesn’t know that I’m leaving yet.

The topic segues into the investigator they’ve been paying and the issue he’s having in finding my mother’s purported husband, Juan Martinique. From what I can gather, the investigator is fairly certain the man was using a fake name and fake passport. The chances are slim to none that this particular investigator has the resources to dig deeper.

“I’m not spending any more money on this, Henry,” Jesse says. “I hope no harm came to her, but we need to face the facts that if that were true, she would’ve contacted one of us by now.”

Pause.

“I understand,” Jesse says quietly. “That’s on you and Ruth but I just can’t be part of it financially anymore. It’s goin’ on four years for us, and well . . . I need to see a lawyer about getting a divorce. It’s gone on too long. I hope you don’t think badly of me for that.”

Pause.

“I’m glad you understand. I don’t ever want there to be bad blood between us.”

I’m lost to the rest of their conversation because I can’t believe what he’s just said.

When did he decide this?

He sure as hell didn’t mention it last night when he crawled into my bed half-drunk.

I leave the room and stop by Scout’s room, telling her it’s time for her to get a shower and into her pajamas. She does so with no argument just like always.

I retire to my room, sitting on top of my bed with nothing to do but think about things I don’t want to think about. I start painting my toenails, trying to clear my mind of the confusing clutter.

I mean what the fuck?

Did Jesse just come up with this
divorce
thing on the fly? Is that what he spent the rest of last night thinking about while he lay in his empty bed with blue balls?

Yeah—I’m eighteen but I understand the concept.

How am I supposed to feel about this when he flat out says he still loves Mama? Not
in love
, he says, but loves her just the same. I don’t understand the differences.

I’m an A-B student, so I feel I’m intelligent enough that I should be able to articulate what the difference is, but life hasn’t given me a whole lot of experience with love.

All I know is that I love my grandparents, I love my sister, and I love Jesse. But when I think about it, I do love them all in different ways.

I love my grandparents as caregivers; they make me feel wanted, and loved in an unconditional kind of way, and they’re protective.

I love Scout because she’s my little sister and she hangs on my every word. She looks up to me for guidance and care; she trusts that I’ll be honest with her, and look out for her, and maybe even stick up for her when she needs it every now and then. She knows that she can tell me anything and I’ll still love her
unconditionally.
It’s kind of like the way my grandparents love me—and the way that Mama was
supposed
to love the both of us.

And then I think about Jesse and the way that I love him. It’s way, way different than anyone else. I love him because of the way he loves Scout, and takes care of her, seeing to her needs before his. I love that he’s a hard-working man and even when he comes home dead-tired, he has time for her and makes her a priority. I love that he’s made sure she knows Mama’s side of the family, despite the fact that she did him like she did.

I love the man that he is—oh, not just the way that he looks and feels, though it
is
totally awesome, but also the way that he looks
at
me, and no matter how much he tries his damnedst not to give into the attraction, I have to love the way that he
is
drawn to me, and he wants it to be acceptable.

But again, I love that he puts Scout first, not wanting her to get upset by us being together which tells me for sure just how great of a dad he is, and
that
makes me love him even more! It makes me want to have babies with him and to be the woman I know that I am with him and only him always.

I love all the things that he teaches me—not just in bed, but about taking care of my car, and about football, and the praise he’s never stingy with about what I do for him and for Scout. No matter what, he’s always made me feel as if I belong, and not as a stepdaughter, but as an equal of sorts.

I shake my head with all of the conflicting thoughts, yet I realize that I have managed to put some things in perspective, so that’s a start.

My toenails are drying when I hear a soft knock on my door.

“September? You up?”

“Yeah. Come on in.”

He comes through the door and immediately I can tell he’s concerned.

“You okay?” he asks, “You been in here for a while.”

“Just thinkin’,” I reply honestly.

“Anything you want to share?”

“Maybe something I want to ask you.”

“Go on.”

He sits down next to me on the bed, but doesn’t touch me. He’s waiting for my question.

Here goes.

“When did you decide you were going to get, uh . . . a divorce?” I blurt out knowing that I am totally in his business, which he hates.

“Early this morning,” he replies, coming closer. “After I left your room and realized that you were actually the adult in that situation and I was the fucking adolescent.”

I swallow nervously, continuing to watch him because Jesse has never, ever talked to me like this.

“September,” he breathes, “I’ve been kind of fucked-up since all that went down with your ma, and the thing is, it’s because I never really dealt with it. I just put it out of my mind and focused solely on Scout and myself. I didn’t handle it, initially anyway, as an adult, and there you were at what? Thirteen? Trying to hold us together? I mean, even though you were old enough to understand what happened—unlike Scout, you were way too young to take charge the way you did as the ‘other’ adult in the house. That should’ve been me taking charge of the situation instead of burying my anger in my work—and the suds.

“When your grandparents saw what a fucking mess I was, they took you and Scout for the summer, helping me to have some time to get my shit together. And I did get it together—somewhat anyway. Then when I picked Scout up at the end of that summer, I didn’t even consider how you might’ve felt staying on with them.”

“It was fine,” I reply.

“No—it wasn’t
fine
because I didn’t bother to consider the fact that maybe
you
needed some answers, too. But you weren’t my responsibility, baby. And I always thought maybe you hated me for just leaving you and not staying in touch. I just felt like I was in over my head with Scout—having to be mother
and
father to a four-year-old.”

“Jesse—I’m not—”

“Hear me out, baby, please?”

And the fact that he keeps calling me
baby
is making my belly tingle again.

“So, let’s fast forward to four years later, and you’re here. And you’ve grown into a beautiful woman. Yeah, I noticed,” he says with a laugh. “I couldn’t
help
but notice. So, I’m starting this thing with Casey shortly after you arrive and damn if you didn’t show me that you can hold your own when you go up against a conniving bitch like that—even though, you weren’t exactly innocent of some manipulation yourself there, darlin’.”

He’s smiling; I’m flushing with embarrassment because I now realize that never for one second had I fooled him.

“But I got it,” he says—”At least I
thought
I did, as it turns out I don’t know shit about females. Here I was thinking it was something kinda alpha—you know, like dudes get? One female encroaching on another female’s territory—a show of dominance of sorts, except I’m thinking it’s Casey’s constant hovering over us that’s making you feel threatened. I mean, damn baby, it never freakin’ occurred to me that it was anything else at the beginning. Then something changed. And it changed in me. I saw you as a woman—not a teenager; someone who takes care of us and cares about us, and then my feelings became conflicted.”

“In what way?” I dare to ask, my heart beating faster now. He’s never opened up to me like this and it rocks.

“I guess I started having feelings and urges that in my mind weren’t appropriate for you. I thought for sure you could tell.”

“What?”

And Jesse gets tongue-tied and almost embarrassed as he continues. “Yeah, that night you went out with the fucking douche bag, Austin. I mean I felt like a caged animal pacing around the house and checking the clock every ten minutes. Scout even told me I was getting on her nerves,” he laughs, not looking at me because he feels weird about it.

“You just seemed pissed is all.”

“Hell yeah, I was pissed! You lookin’ all disheveled and shit.”

I flush now, because he doesn’t know all that happened that night, and maybe someday, I will fill him in but now is not the time because I know he’s not done baring his soul yet and I so need him to do that.

“And then the night I brought your car home . . . in the driveway when you were so happy and hugging me—I mean shit, couldn’t you tell I had a fucking hard-on?”

My head snaps up to look at him; I feel my eyes widen in surprise. I shake my head ‘no’ slowly, but a smile is surfacing now. “I was clueless.”

“So was I,” he chuckles softly, “Totally clueless about the feelings that you stirred up in me—and ashamed in a way, I guess. I mean, it felt—
wrong.
Until that night we spent together and then . . . you know, it felt kind of
right.
”

“It did for me, too,” I admit.

“Then don’t leave.”

“How can I stay? I mean, how will we deal with this?”

He reaches over and takes my hands into his large ones, raising one of them to his lips and he brushes a soft kiss against my knuckles.

“It’s not impossible,” he finally says. “If we behave with some discretion and self-control, we can do it.”

And now I’m kind of pissed. “I don’t want to live that way,” I hiss. “I’m not like . . .
Shayla.
”

He cocks an eyebrow at me, clearly puzzled by the last part of my statement, which I hadn’t meant to verbalize.

Too late.

“What?” he asks.

“Never mind. It’s not important.”

“No—you don’t understand,” he continues, “Not forever—just until you and me figure things out for the future and are sure that this is the right thing to do . . . for everyone.”

“You mean, Scout, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I’d never do anything to hurt her,” I blurt, looking over at him.

“I know that. This is just fucking complicated.”

It
is
complicated,” I agree, scooting closer to him now. He pulls me closer, and wraps an arm around me possessively. “How will this work?” I ask.

“Well, you need to finish out your senior year here,” he says, “And you need to think about college now. Make inquiries because you’re smart and I want you to get as much education as we can afford.”

And when he says ‘we’ my heart flutters again.

“I’m not sure you remember this, but when I met your ma, she was walking downtown. I’d seen her before, walking from the parking lot across the street down the block to that same building every day. She was going to cosmetology school. She was dead set on becoming a hairdresser. She wanted a career she said. More than anything she wanted to be independent, to not have to depend on your grandparents for support. I liked that about her.”

“What happened?” I ask.

“I happened,” he replies, a look of regret washing over his features. “I fell in love with her and the very thing that I’d first liked about her, I managed to take away. Her need to feel independent.”

“I don’t understand. How did you take that from her?”

“By dominating her, trying to make up for my own insecurities about being younger than she was I guess. She didn’t finish her training; instead she made me the center of her universe because that’s what I wanted. And she grew to resent me for that over the years. Guess I can’t blame her much.”

I’d never known any of this. “I never knew,” I say softly.

“I mean, what were
your
plans after high school?” he asks me, “Before you came here, I mean.”

I’m ashamed to admit that I hadn’t thought about anything but leaving Meridian.

“Getting the hell out of a small, southern town,” I reply honestly. “I know that’s not much in the way of plans, but it’s what I hoped for.”

He looks at me and I can see he’s deflated. “Well, I guess Fort Smith fits into that same category then doesn’t it?”

“What is it you want from me, Jesse?” I ask. “Tell me so that we can discuss it. I’m a bit freaked out at the moment.”

He smiles. “I want you here—with me. I want us to see how this all shakes out because it’s not insignificant, this thing that we have. I don’t want to ignore it either. But I want it to be right between us.”

“What about Scout?” I ask.

“Well, I figure we need a little bit more time before we clue her in to our relationship. She needs to feel secure in the fact that you’re here to stay, I mean if that’s what you want.”

I smile at Jesse. He’s given this so much thought.

He gives me a rare, dazzling smile. And my belly does flip-flops
again.

“Now as far as the rest of . . . our relationship goes, I still think we need to practice total discretion for a while anyway. And that’s not so much for Scout, but for nosey neighbors with wagging tongues. I don’t want anyone making our love seem ugly or like some . . . uh . . .
Jerry Springer
shit. I don’t want anyone hassling you at school either.”

He’s very adamant about that and I totally agree and tell him so.

“How long is a
while?
” I ask pensively. I need to see how far ahead Jesse has made plans.