But then she whispered, “You love her,” and emotion rushed to her eyes. “That’s why.”
This proclamation a new assault striking me square in the chest, I held still as I worked to shove down the ancient regrets and sorrows her statement unleashed.
She wasn’t finished. Her chin wobbled, her gaze holding both accusation and understanding as Cletus wrapped his arm around her. “You love her. And that’s why you want what’s best for her, even now. That’s why you stayed close but never intervened. You love her, and that’s why her happiness matters more to you than what you could’ve gained as her father if you’d made it known.” She shrugged, but each of her words cut me like a razor. “You love your daughter, Jason,” she said, using my real name, which made everything worse.
Pulling in a raggedy sigh, I stared at her, giving her my attention and nothing else. For some reason, this information about me had clearly made a huge difference to Jennifer. Tears leaked from her eyes, but she no longer looked at me with distrust. Something within my chest relaxed and a tightness eased even as worry—about and for Jessica—twisted in my gut.
But I couldn’t think about this at present. Maybe Jennifer would tell Jessica, maybe she wouldn’t. I hoped Diane’s daughter would do the right thing and keep it to herself. Regardless, it was out of my hands.
Diane and I would be leaving tonight. I’d take her to safety, places the arm of US law held no sway. We’d be together, and that’s all that mattered. For now.
Chapter Twenty-Five
*Diane*
“To be half a century plus is wonderfully exciting, because I haven't lost any of my past, and I am free to stand on the rock of all that the past has taught me as I look to the future.”
Madeleine L'Engle, A Circle of Quiet
“Are you sure you have everything you need?” Jennifer paced to the open closet again, inspecting the sparse few garments remaining on the hangers.
Jason had shopped for me: luggage, clothes, toiletries, a book to read on the plane, everything. He’d even purchased hair dye, ten different brands of it. Luckily, Jennifer knew which shade would match my new fake ID and how to apply it without turning my hair green. I’d only ever had my hair fixed at a salon. If she hadn’t helped me, I would’ve been lost.
But now we were done with my hair, the packing, and everything else. All that remained was saying goodbye.
“I have everything, I’m sure,” I said, working to keep the turmoil and emotion from of my voice. Poor Isaac had let me cry quietly on his shirt without complaint. I would not do the same to my sweet Jennifer.
With a wistful sounding sigh, she turned from the closet and folded her arms, her eyes landing on my designer jeans and traveling upwards.
“You don’t look like you.” Her voice cracked, her focus stalling on the luxurious black cashmere sweater I’d pulled on over a black long-sleeved shirt. “You never wear black, or jeans. You always said farmers wear jeans.”
“Oh baby, come here.” I opened my arms for her. She all but leapt into my arms. Holding my sweet girl tightly, I pet her hair and kissed her cheek. “I’m not supposed to look like me, baby. I’m supposed to look like Elizabeth Blake.”
Jennifer heaved a watery sigh. “I know you have to go. I want you to go, and I want you to be happy. But I wish you could stay.”
An essential something within me bent, maybe even fractured, at the despair in my darling girl’s voice. I found myself convulsively swallowing, glaring at the ceiling while I wrestled with guilt and fear and sadness and a trembling chin.
I will not cry. I will be brave in these last moments with my daughter. I will be the source of strength for her now that I couldn’t be as she grew.
“You know I love you, right?” I asked, kissing her cheek again. “You know, no matter where I go and what I’m doing, you have my heart.”
“I know, Momma.” She held me just as tightly, sniffling, no longer trying to hold back the tears. “And I love you. And I know you’ve always wanted to travel, so maybe I just need to think of this as an extended vacation.”
We both chuckled at her reframing of the situation, and she pulled away. I gripped her arms to keep her from going too far. “This isn’t forever. I refuse to believe that. I will see you and hold you and kiss your beautiful face again.”
Nodding, Jennifer wiped at her eyes. “I know. Cletus said he’d talk to Jason about finding a way for us to safely communicate. Maybe we can come visit you wherever you are.”
“I’d like that,” I said, but uncertainty spun like a top in my head and stomach. I didn’t know where we were going, or for how long, or how we’d pay for it. I’d decided to trust Jason, and I would, but the not knowing ate at me.
As soon as we were in the car, I’d extract more details from that sexy man of mine. I’d probably have to get a job wherever we went, and even though I had no idea how to manage applying for a position under an assumed identity, I wasn’t at all afraid of hard work. I’d been working since I was fourteen; I’d worked while raising two kids (three if you counted my man-child husband); I could do most jobs at the Lodge. Maybe I’d be a maid. There’d always been something about cleaning up messes and seeing everything set to rights that soothed me.
“He loves you, you know.”
I blinked my girl back into focus. She was no longer crying.
“Jason. Mr. Repo. He loves you.” A smile broke out on her tear-stained face. “In fact, I think he has it pretty bad.” She laughed again.
I didn’t laugh and my stomach swirled something fierce, and I couldn’t help but wonder at myself. Here I was, on the run from the law, a fugitive, feeling nervous about a man I liked—a man I loved—and his theoretical feelings for me. We’d been apart for so long during this ordeal, what if he—
No. No. I wouldn’t entertain the thought.
But I would say this: I didn’t wish to be a burden to him. My whole life, I’d bent over backwards for a man who never loved me, who used my inexperience and vulnerability against me like a weapon. Both Kip and my father had wielded my insecurities masterfully. I wouldn’t—couldn’t—be in a one-sided relationship ever again.
As my late friend Bethany Winston used to say, If you don’t want someone to get your goat, don’t let them know where it’s tied.
I’d thought, after leaving Kip, I would do her one better: If you don’t want someone to get your goat, don’t let them know you own a goat. Make them think you’re goat-less. Besides, goats are messy. They eat everything and poop everywhere. And yet, I do like their cheese.
But then I’d met Jason, and not only did I let him know I had a goat, I’d handed it right over.
Therefore, if at any time he grew tired of my company, I’d figure things out on my own. I would not stay where I wasn’t wanted, suffering with unrequited feelings. Fugitive or not, life was too short to waste time loving someone who doesn’t have common sense to see my beauty and strength enough to love me back and treat me well.
And that was that.