I’d always been curious about what happened to Jack after his arrest.
“You can ask,” he assured me, still grinning. “I’m sure whatever rumors you’ve heard are way worse than what actually went down.”
I winced. “Military boarding school?”
He snorted. “Try community service and a GED. Reverend Price dropped the vandalism charges senior year. I got lucky with the judge on the breaking-and-entering stuff and everything that came after. The house arrest rumor wasn’t too far off. But afterward, I traveled around a bit. Got my head on straight. Came back and took some online classes. Figured out what I wanted.”
I listened to him explain the past, watching for agitation or disquiet as he ran through a laundry list of youthful misdeeds. But if he was nervous about revealing his history, I couldn’t detect it. His gaze remained steady, fingers tapping the base of his water goblet absently.
Yet, there was something in the set of his shoulders that made me think he was bracing himself, waiting for me to pass judgment. If that was the case, he’d be waiting a long time.
“And what was it you wanted? What did you figure out?” I asked softly, curiosity to know this man beating out all my peacekeeping politeness.
“That I was wasting my life and hurting the only person who mattered. The only person who’d ever cared about me. I was tired of hurting Lia, my grandmother, and it took a while, but I finally grew up.”
He’d mentioned his grandmother a few times now. From the way he spoke, it was easy to see he cared about her. No one ever talked about Jack’s parents. As far as I knew, they’d never been in the picture. But that was more than I was willing to ask. No sense in dredging up painful memories when we could have a nice lunch instead.
Just then, a server came to take our drink order.
After she’d walked away, I said simply, “I don’t think I’ve met your grandmother. What’s she like?”
He took a sip of his water, and, distracted, I watched the long column of his throat work. “I don’t imagine your paths cross very often. She does grandma things.”
I smiled. “I love grandma things.” Jack grinned and rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Does she knit? Have a garden?” I leaned forward dramatically and whispered, “Does she can things from that garden?”
He laughed, and I felt like I’d won a prize at the deep rumble of his amusement.
“She would absolutely eat you alive,” he said.
That had me throwing my head back. “What? Why?” I finally managed.
Jack shook his head a little, still amused. “You might have similar hobbies, but you’re both so different. She’s hard in a way I don’t think you could ever be. We’ve never been good at being affectionate or open. Lia’s been on her own so long. She’s tough. Made herself that way. There wasn’t a lot of room left over for softness.”
“But she loves you.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Yeah, she does.”
“And you think I’m a marshmallow,” I accused, but sanded the edges down with a small smile. He wasn’t wrong. I felt more vulnerable now than I ever had in my life. I wished I was tougher, like his Lia. But when you’d had the rug pulled out fromunder you, it was hard to regain your balance or to trust that the rest of the rugs in the house wouldn’t upend you the next time you walked by.
That was what made Danny’s infidelity and the end of our marriage so difficult. I’d been blindsided, completely caught off guard. As a result, I had a hard time trusting my instincts, and if you couldn’t have faith in yourself, then courage was hard to come by.
“I didn’t say that,” Jack replied flatly. “I just said you were different. It wasn’t a judgment. Lia’s a gruff old woman who’s set in her ways. You work with kids every day. You’re patient and kind and generous with your time. And you have this big family that you’ve devoted yourself to. Lia only has me.”
I glanced down at the tabletop. It was nice of Jack to leave out all my bad qualities.
“But,” he added, as if reading my mind, “you’re also stubborn. So maybe you do have something in common with my grandmother after all.”
“I am not stubborn,” I argued. I was totally stubborn.
His hazel eyes sparkled. “If you say so.”
“I’m not,” I insisted.
Jack grinned and opened his menu. His attention was focused on the list of food items when he said, “Stubborn isn’t a bad thing, Clyde. It’s easy to see that you’re dedicated to your students, your family, and your friends. Stubborn just means that you don’t give up on people. You hold on.”
My stomach did a back handspring at his matter-of-fact words. The simplicity and certainty there. Jack was right, but myinclination to hold on wasn’t necessarily a good thing. I’d stubbornly refused to give up on my marriage until it blew up in my face. I’d taken all my hurt and betrayal and held on to that, too. I used to think blind devotion was something to be proud of. Now I knew the truth. Something had better be worth your time and effort. It should be deserving of your love before you went all in.
“You’re a glass-half-full person,” Jack was saying. “An optimist. You trust and love freely, and you care about other people. You see the beauty in the world around you.” He gestured to the mountain view I’d been mooning over since we got here.
