She broke the silence as Robert drove down the lane to the house. “You can have tonight’s vases. I’ll glaze them in a few weeks. What color do you want?”
He put his truck into park and looked at her. By the light of the front porch, she saw him smile. He reached over and slid his hand into hers, lacing their fingers together.
“Whatever color you think will look best.”
Jessie couldn’t think about colors or anything else right now because of the zings of electricity shooting up her arm. She curled her fingers around his and tightened her grip on his hand.
“Jessie, I hope you will let me pay you for the vases.”
“You don’t need to do that. You have given me so much already. I’m the one who needs to repay you.”
“No, you don’t.” He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb, sending a warm tingling sensation across her hand. “I’d like to think of the things I’ve done for you as an investment.”
“An investment in what?” Was he expecting her to become some world-renowned artist?
Robert’s hand loosened and slipped from hers. “If you don’t understand what I mean, then there’s no point in me explaining.” He faced forward, jaw set, and put both hands on the steering wheel.
Jessie didn’t understand what he expected from her, because she didn’t even know what she expected of herself. The sting of tears pricked her eyes, so she kept her mouth shut and opened the truck door.
She slid out with a mumbled, “Good night,” and hurried into the house.
She probably should have apologized, but she wasn’t sure what for.
* * *
Jessie settledinto a table across from her mom at their favorite Italian restaurant in the Tri-Cities area. They’d spent the morning shopping and were now getting lunch. Well, her mother had shopped, and Jessie had spent the morning telling her mom she didn’t need maternity clothes or all the baby paraphernalia yet.
It had been three weeks since she realized she was pregnant, and she’d finally told her mom last week. Her mother had shared Jessie’s concern about how this would affect her ability to distance herself from Patrick, but she’d been so excited for Jessie.
Sylvia stared at Jessie after they placed their orders. Her brow furrowed.
“What?” Jessie asked.
“You tell me?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been quiet and sullen all day. What’s going on?”
Jessie wanted to say “nothing,” but she couldn’t. Despite walking and talking with Emily every morning and working through much of the trauma she’d suffered, she still felt like there was more wrong in her life than there was right. She’d started painting again, but she didn’t know where it would lead her. She had no direction in her life. But she had a baby on the way, so she needed to find her purpose soon.
Jessie chewed on her fingernail for a moment before speaking. “Do you think me getting my hair done with money Robert gave me is giving him control over me?”
She’d thought a lot about what Robert said the other night, about everything he’d done for her being an investment. And she wasn’t sure if she should feel offended or flattered. Offended because it made it sound like he viewed her as someone he could own. She’d been there, done that, and refuse to travel that road again.
Or flattered, because maybe he felt like making her happy was something that might ensure a happy future for the two of them. If that was the case, then she needed to understand exactly what Debbie meant to him. She still hadn’t asked him about her. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.
“Is that how you feel?” Her mother’s brows furrowed. “Do think Robert is trying to control you. Like Patrick did?”
“Not necessarily. I mean, I think he’s just trying to help me find myself but...” She shrugged, then rambled on, hoping that verbalizing all the thoughts tumbling around in her head would help her make sense of them. “He gave me money and told me to get my hair done, and I did. He gave me an amazing, expensive art kit and suggested I paint, and I did. He gave me a phone and asked me to keep location sharing on, and I am. And he’s taken me to the ceramics lab at the school twice now to throw pots, and I have.”
Despite the tense discussion with Robert concerning the vases she made this week, Jessie smiled as she recalled how pretty they had turned out.
“I know he’s just trying to help me find myself. But I don’t know if I want to find the old me.“
“Was there something wrong with the old you?” Her mom frowned.
“No, but what if I’m not content to stay here in Providence? The old me felt so trapped in this small town.”
