“I won’t let you walk away from me again.”
“Who walked away from who?”
“Whom. But I’m not letting either happen again.”
I open my eyes. I want to make him happy, really I do. He has been a godsend to me since I’ve been back, and I do love him. But I loved him before, and it wasn’t enough. “Your way or the highway?”
“Not this time. If you can’t live here, I’ll move to New York.”
For a minute, I don’t know what to say. Then, just shy of stammering, I protest, “You can’t do that. You have a business.”
“It’s called a practice,” he says with a trace of humor, “and don’t tell me New Yorkers don’t have pets.”
Of course, they do, and of course, he could find work there. But I can’t evenbeginto imagine what a Jack-in-the-city life would be like. Maybe he was right when he said my life in New York was about control. The unknown terrifies me.
“Jack,” I sigh.
“Mal,” he sighs back.
Don’t overthink it,Paul advised,tentimes easier said than done with so much at stake.
“Slow,” I suggest.
His frown lines deepened. “What does that mean?”
“It means this is happening too fast. I’ve been here five days. That’s not enough.” Five days is too short a time to make a major life decision.
“I agree,” says Jack, but he takes my words differently. “Five days isn’t enough. I want years. You’ve been missing from my life, Mallory.”
Sliding my hand down his throat to his chest, which is warm with texture and broad under my palm, I beg, “Slow? Please?”
He tries. Really, he does. Jack’s version of slow is simply not talking about it. But he’s there even when he isn’t, hovering in the back of my mind. When Margo and I muster the courage to enter Dad’s room, spot Mom’s dressing table, and remember the way she let us play there, I share Jack’s memories of Elizabeth and feel all the worsefor his loss. Just at the moment when Joy and her cousins are trying to decide how to spend the afternoon, Jack comes from work like a knight in shining armor, collects the three, and drives them back to the clinic to help socialize a litter of King Charles Spaniel pups. Dan and Margo insist on discussing Jack’s obvious devotion, and when I call Paul for advice on what to do with Dad’s books, he asks if Jack is behaving.
On the plus side, the truce with my sisters holds. Anne is better being at work than not, although she is subdued, clearly grieving. She also looks exhausted, which may have to do with the baby, or with Bill, or simply with having us all here.
Naturally, Jack is with us for dinner. We’ve decided to purge the fridge by eating whatever friends brought that is still fresh, and the extra mouth helps. Naturally, he hangs around afterward. Naturally, he walks Joy and me back to his house when the others begin to yawn. Naturally, we feel like a family of three.
It would be cruel, if it weren’t so nice. Same with our lovemaking that night. Though I sense a desperation in his stamina, he doesn’t ask if I’ll stay.
Joy does. By Friday morning, she is mentioning it more and more. We’re having a late breakfast at Sunny Side Up—Margo, the boys, and me. Joy is serving, but each time she stops at our table, she ups the ante. If she isn’t sneaking extra donut holes to her cousins, she’s telling them howawesomethe town beach is or howcoolit would be ifallof them had red BAYBLUFFhoodies—and,Mom, would that be the craziest photo ev-ver?Finally, I wander into the kitchen to see how Anne is doing and casually raise the issue. When she lights up at the prospect of having Joy stay on, I’m sunk.
I can’t stay, myself. Aside from the fact that two people have cleared their Saturdays to assist me, I owe it to this particular broker.
She’s my top referral source,I explain when Jack oh-so-tactfully asks if I’ve made a decision.I don’t want to lose her.
Say it’s a family emergency.
She’s a businesswoman. She wouldn’t understand.
Try her.
I don’t reply other than to say,Taking the kids into Waverley. Anything special we should see?
Wilcox Park. And bookstore.
Though the bookstore is new since I left, I remember the park. It proves to be an amazing photo trove for both statues and kids, and the bookstore—well, Joy and I are likely in higher heaven than Margo’s crew, but we know how to wreak the most damage in the shortest time. We are at the checkout counter with our arms full, when Jack texts.
Will Joy stay with me?
