She nodded. “She was a sweetheart from day one. Not sure where she got that from.”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that so I asked instead, “Are you getting enough to eat in here?” She still looked too thin to me.
She shrugged. “The food is shit but I’m fine. It could be worse.”
She could be dead. She didn’t need to say it; we let the unspoken words hang between us.
“I signed the papers,” she continued, referring to the fact that she’d signed over her parental rights, the last hurdle in our adoption of the kids.
“I know,” I replied softly.
“I know you’ll take good care of them. You were always good with them,” she continued, her thumbs twiddling in a nervous gesture I recognized from when we were kids.
“We will,” I promised. “I love them, Jan. Cal loves them. We got married,” I added, for some reason wanting to tell her despite knowing she wouldn’t want the details.
As I expected, she simply nodded, shifting restlessly in her seat. “I figure it’s the best thing I ever did for them—giving them up. Being in this place… I see that clearly,” she shared in a rare moment of vulnerability.
“I never wanted this for you, Jan. But I love those kids like they’re my own,” I assured her.
“I know.” She nodded stiffly before her gaze met mine. “I was jealous,” she admitted. “You got the hell out of town the first chance you got. You never looked back. You made something of yourself. You teach my kids that,” she asked, the plea barely restrained in her tone. “You teach them to be strong. You teach them to be good.”
My eyes filled with tears as I nodded emphatically.
“All right.” She nodded, rising to indicate that she was done. “I appreciate the visit but you don’t belong in this place. Move on with your life. Take them with you,” she murmured as she looked down at me for what I realized might be the last time. “And if they ever ask about me—you tell them the truth. You tell them who I am, you tell them the choices I made. Maybe it’ll keep them from making the same fucking mistakes.”
“I will,” I agreed. “I’ll also tell them that their mama makes the best raspberry pie I’ve ever tasted. I’ll tell them when Billy Upton tried to kiss me in first grade their mama came at him with a punch strong enough to make a grown man cry.” I was smiling now through tears as I continued. “I’ll tell them their mama gave a lot up so I could eat—so I could survive, and I used that opportunity to be the more that I want them to be.”
“Yah,” she rasped. “That sounds good, Jilly. I’ll see you.”
It was good-bye wrapped in a see you later. But it was easier to swallow, for both of us.
“See you later,” I agreed.
When I walked out of the visiting area I’d never been more grateful that Cal had gotten his way. I couldn’t have imagined making that drive alone.
He stood when he saw me, his blue eyes watching my progress as I made my way through the room to him.
I was going to fall apart before I even reached him. I knew it, but luckily he knew it too. He cut the distance between us, his long strides making their way to me before his strong arms enveloped me in an all-consuming embrace.
I burrowed into his chest, sad that it was over and feeling guilty that I was relieved at the same time. He didn’t ask for me to explain, didn’t need me to. Instead, he wrapped an arm around me, shielding me with his strength. He led us out of the prison—leaving the moans of anguish and hollers of dispute behind us.
We drove home in silence as I processed the convoluted blessing my sister had offered. With Cal’s large hand splayed on my thigh, I watched the landscape shoot by and grappled with the responsibility I’d taken on in raising her children. A responsibility I welcomed, one I couldn’t wait to get home to.
“You’re not goin’ back there.” Cal’s growl broke the silence between us, his tone and insistence surprising me. “I’ve had to watch you confront two of the people who’ve hurt you most. I’m not doing it anymore. I let you say your piece with that ex piece of shit.”
I noticed he’d never say Tim’s name out loud. I didn’t blame him.
“And I get the need to have a last word with your sister, but baby, I amdone. We’re moving on. You’re moving on.” He emphasized with a gentle squeeze of my thigh.
“Yeah,” I agreed wholeheartedly, turning my head to watch his handsome profile as he navigated the road ahead. “That’s why I needed to do this now. I needed the closure. Because I’m ready to leave it all behind. More than.”
My gaze returned to the landscape shooting past in a blur outside my window. I was ready to be a mother of three, ready to be Cal’s wife and to stand beside him as the prez’s old lady.
“Do you think the kids will want breakfast for dinner? Chocolate chip pancakes as a treat maybe?” I mused, looking over at him. That life I was moving on toward? I was ready to get to it, and that included making chocolate chip pancakes for the kids, putting them to bed, and then, if I was lucky, having my man to myself for a few hours.
I loved the lines that crinkled at the corners of his beautiful blue eyes when he smiled, as he was doing now. “Yeah, baby. I’m sure they will. As for me, I’ll skip the chocolate chips and have my dessert later.” The deep rasp of his voice had heat coursing through my veins.
This life of mine, it was beautiful.
