With things feeling a bit more hopeful, of course my brain does that thing it does where it sucks me right back into the things that frustrate me and bring me down. I start thinking about other problems and spiral into the vortex of disappointment and frustration I've felt over this whole situation with Emily.
I've spent three weeks avoiding her, because facing up to the idea that she could have been lying to me for years is too painful. But Leah's words keep circling back no matter how many times I push them away. I know she thinks Emily never stopped loving me, but how could someone who loves you do something so cruel?
If Mercy is mine, then she's been growing up without me for seven years. She doesn't know my name or that I exist, andif I keep hiding behind my anger, she never will. I've already missed her first steps and her first words. How much more will I miss out on if I stay mad and stew in the hurt? Emily may not be worthy of my forgiveness, but if that little girl is mine, she doesn't deserve to feel hurt by my anger at her mother.
I think about what Dad told me the night I showed him the foreclosure letter. Get proof before you do anything stupid. Don't go making accusations you can't back up. He was talking about Mercy then, but it applies to everything. Langford, the bakery, Emily, all of it. I've been swinging at every problem with my fists and my temper and it hasn't fixed a single thing. The Langford situation needs patience and evidence. The situation with Emily needs something I'm not sure I know how to give, which is grace.
I pick up the phone at a red light on the outskirts of Jacksonville and open my messages. Emily's name is right there at the top of the thread, the last message between us dated weeks ago about the bakery repairs. I type quickly and read it back twice before I send it.
Jaxon: 4:47 PM: I think we need to talk. After the festival on the boardwalk. Dinner at seven at the Taco Tent? I'm calling a truce. For Mercy's sake…
Then I set the phone down and watch the light turn green. She might not respond, and I wouldn't blame her for that after the way I acted at the farmer's market. But I have to try because the alternative is spending the rest of my life wondering what would've happened if I'd put my pride down long enough to show up for my kid.
One of us has to be the bigger person, and I'm guessing that's me.
20
EMILY
Ialmost deleted his message when it came through. My thumb hovered over it for a good thirty seconds before I set the phone down and walked away from it, and then I came back ten minutes later and read it again. When I read the words,I'm calling a truce. For Mercy's sake. Jaxon got me. Otherwise, I'd have blocked his number out of fear of what he might want to talk about.
The women at church told me to offer him grace, and I couldn't bring myself to erase those words knowing how much it must have cost him to write them. I never replied, but I'm here now, standing on the boardwalk at ten minutes past seven, watching him through the open front of the Taco Tent. He looks nervous, chewing his nails and shifting in his chair, glancing toward the entrance every few seconds.
There's a small bunch of wildflowers on the table next to his water glass, purple and yellow, tied together with a piece of twine. They're my favorites and I'm sure he remembered, though I'm not sure what he thinks they'll mean to me. We're way beyond the flowers stage, but at least he's not so mad at me thathe just wants to confront me and tell me off. He wouldn't have brought flowers if that were the case.
I don't even know why I came. I've been back and forth on what to do all afternoon. My brain has swung from the extreme of selling my bakery and moving far, far away from here to wanting nothing more than to sit across from Jaxon and hear him tell me he forgives me and still loves me. I'm so confused, and with the stress of running my own business, raising a daughter as a single mom, and fighting to keep my income alive, I'm not sure I'm even thinking correctly. I could be making a very bad decision right now.
But I take a breath and walk in. He sees me before I'm halfway across the floor and stands up so fast, he bumps the table and the water glasses wobble. He steadies them with one hand and picks up the flowers with the other, holding them out to me without saying anything at first. I take them with a small smile and nod.
"Thank you," I say. "They're beautiful."
"I remember you used to pick them off the side of the road on the way to the beach." He pulls my chair out and waits for me to sit before he takes his own seat across from me. "I wasn't sure you'd come."
"I almost didn't." It's so strange that despite having so much anger and frustration, fear and insecurity, I still feel absolutely comfortable and at home with this man. It's like he has a part of my soul that whenever I get near him feels like home. I'm not sure what to make of that.
"I figured." He picks up his water and takes a drink. "I appreciate your being here, Emily."
The server comes over and we both stare at the board behind the counter for too long. Jaxon orders fish tacos and a water. I order the shrimp plate because it's the first thing my eyes land on. She brings a basket of chips and a dish of salsa and disappears, and then it's just us. It's a comfortable sort of awkward, but I'm not hating it yet.
Jaxon picks up a chip and turns it in his fingers. "The boardwalk looks good. They put new planks down near the pier." His stab at small talk is weird. I know he wants to jump into some deep topics, but he's holding back. I guess I feel the same way. I want normalcy, not conflict. I just don't know how we get there from here.
"They did that last fall. Karen and I could hear the hammering from the bakery for two weeks straight." I roll my eyes and grin, but it doesn't even get the corners of his mouth to tug up.
He nods and eats a chip then reaches for another one. I pick one up too and break it in half and dip half into the salsa before popping it in my mouth. We're two people who used to share a bed and now we can't get through a sentence. It feels stiff, almost stifling.
"How's the bakery doing?" he asks. "With the repairs, I mean. Danny said they're almost finished." It's a sore subject. Jaxon was supposed to be there daily to make sure they were getting done right, not that I don't trust the others. But it felt like an insult that he stopped showing up. Though, I can't blame him. I wasn't exactly making him feel comfortable.
"They're almost done. Danny and Russ finished the ventilation hood last week. The back door frame is solid. It should pass the inspection whenever they schedule it… Just the plumbing thing left, I think…" I crunch on another chip, but this isn't really goinghow I wished it would go. I'm not sure what I was expecting, exactly, but it wasn't this. I sigh and swallow, ready to break this frigid chill between us, but he speaks first.
"That's good." He takes a drink of his water. "I'm sorry I wasn't there to finish the job myself."
"You had your reasons." Again, no opening into something deeper, but at least he's apologizing for now. Jaxon being on the offensive is infuriating and a little scary. He has a big temper I'm not sure I want Mercy learning about.
"Yeah." He sets the glass down and turns it slowly on the table with one hand. The condensation leaves a wet ring on the paper placemat. "I had a lot of reasons for a lot of things. Most of them weren't good enough."
I wonder for a second if that's his way of opening up and trying to explain why he didn't call home or at least write, but I don’t say anything. I don’t want to make him angry with me. It's obvious he knows how much he hurt me now. I think tonight is supposed to be focused on how I hurt him. I just don't feel like apologizing. I made every choice I made because I felt like it was the right one for my little girl.
If I had to do it again, I'd do the same thing.
