Sound Advice (Sensations Collection Book 1) Page 6

  “This isn’t some covert mission, Rosie. I’m serious. Nana can’t be moved that easily. Look, I know you can’t help me. I understand, but you have to help me decide what to do.”

  “I don’t have any answers, Em. You laid all the options out and none sound good, but one has to work. The only option you didn’t mention, and I hope it’s because you haven’t even considered it, is staying there.”

  “Never,” was my immediate response. It was almost an impulsive reflex, but then I thought about it for a moment longer and Jess immediately came to my mind.

  “This is stupid,” I said more to myself, but it came out my mouth, and Rosie heard me. “Never mind.”

  “Look, I’ll let you go,” I added. “Give my love to the girls and Mark, and keep me posted on the baby. Three weeks and counting, right?”

  “Right. Em, are you really okay? You know I’d be there if I could, but with three weeks until baby-day, there’s no way. I can’t fly on an airplane, let alone risk having the baby up there.”

  I wanted to retort, It isn’t the Dark Ages. There is a clinic with a medical center in Traverse City, but I bit my tongue.

  “Love you, Rosie.”

  “Love you, too, Em.”

  Unfortunately, the silence on the line signified how alone I felt.

  I PULLED INTO Nana’s driveway sometime in the early Michigan morning before dawn. I’d made the six-hour drive in a little over five hours, fueled by caffeine. Nana’s front porch looked like it had rained bodies. Sue Carpenter was seated in a rocking chair with a book, Jess Carter was lying on the porch swing, and Katie Carter was curled up on a porch step. As I walked towards the stairs, I was surprised the child hadn’t rolled off the sagging wooden step. She appeared perfectly balanced on the edge with a pile of limp flowers in front of her on the next step below. I noticed the green leaves and stalks of my grandmother’s garden, now bare of all colorful florals. I would have to trim some of the plants back to make it look less like a bad haircut.

  I bent down in front of Katie.

  “Hello, Katie,” I spoke softly, brushing away wisps of hair that had escaped her braids.

  Katie’s eyes opened and closed, then opened and closed again.

  “Are these flowers for me?”

  Slowly, she nodded her head.

  “Can I pick you up? I’ll carry you inside and put you in my room to sleep. You might be more comfortable there then on this old stair.”

  Katie did not reply, but I scooped her up anyway. As I climbed up the stairs, Jess stood and approached us.

  “I have her…if that’s okay with you?” I added quietly.

  Jess nodded with consent, and Sue opened the screen door without a squeak for me. I took Katie to my own room where the girl sprawled out her arms and legs in comfort. I covered her with the pink flower quilt and brushed back additional loose hair. I smiled to myself and returned to the kitchen to say hello to Nana. It was early, but Nana was an early riser. She looked confused, but she was dressed and Sue was offering her a cup of tea.

  “Why don’t you go out on the porch and I’ll stay here with Elizabeth,” Sue offered kindly.

  “Sue, I cannot thank you enough.”

  “No worries. Go.”

  I OPENED THE door as quietly as I could, but old screen doors are meant to screech, and I could see that Jess had laid back down on the porch swing. I approached quietly and knelt before the swing. Jess’ typical look – the bandana – had slipped and I went to push it off his head. His hand shot up immediately and he gripped my forearm with such speed that I froze in a half-kneeling position. He opened his denim-blue eyes, but they weren’t filled with his typical hardness. He looked up at the robin’s egg blue ceiling instead of at me. His eyes wore purple circles under them from lack of sleep, but the pupils themselves appeared sad with defeat.

  Jess removed his grasp and I continued to push back the bandana, brushing some stray hairs off on his forehead. I was surprised he allowed this intimate contact, and noticed a large scar above his left eyebrow that the bandana covered.

  “How are you?” I hesitated.

  “Fine.” His voice was firm.

  “Really?”

  He finally turned his full gaze on me.

  “I don’t know what to say. I don’t understand what happened. No offense, but why you? Why did she talk to you? She doesn’t know you. After all this time? And to ask you to take her? Why? I’ve lain here all night and questioned what I’ve done. Why has she never spoken to me in years?” His voice was rising with his angry frustration.

  Jess rolled his eyes upward again. He was lying flat on his back with one arm over the back of the porch swing, the other arm resting on his chest. He had one leg over the opposite arm of the swing and a foot on the floor, gently pushing it in a lolling, rocking motion.

  I held my gaze down to my own lap where my hands were clasped together as if in prayer, and I continued to squeeze my fingers together in rhythm with the swing’s movement.

  “All I can think of is that it’s because you’re from Chicago. She heard you say those words the first time in our shop and she freaked out. I don’t know if you remember? She dropped everything. But Chicago has come up before. Maybe I didn’t pay enough attention? Maybe it’s because you’re a woman?”

  “Do I look like her?”

  “God, no.”

  “Do I talk like her?”

  “No.”

  “Do I act like her?”

  “No.”

  Jess looked at me again and I felt the full force of his eyes. He squinted a little as he said, “You look different for some reason.” His eyes narrowed as they roamed over my appearance.

  Compared to my grandfather’s old clothes, I was dressed casually in a white tank top more fitted for a female body, with a flouncy, multicolored skirt and dark flip flops. My hair was a messy air-dried ponytail with shorter pieces on the side falling out to frame my face. I didn’t wear much make-up and in my haste last night, had only put on a light lipstick.

  It was Jess’ turn to reach outward and he pushed a piece of wayward hair behind my ear. Without thinking, I turned my face toward his hand, but Jess pulled back quickly.

  “I want to help you.” I returned to looking down at my hands, embarrassed by my reaction to his touch and the outburst of my words.

  “How?” he snapped. “I’ve had her looked at by pediatricians and speech pathologists, audiologists and even brain specialists. They’ve found nothing wrong with her. She can hear me. She responds. But she won’t speak. She hardly writes anything down and I’ve just grown to read her, if that makes any sense.” His voice was rising again and he took a breath to calm it. “But she can’t keep attending school without speech. She has no friends. The kids don’t know how to react to her silence. My sister was her teacher this past year and she assures me no one teased her, but I know kids can be cruel and they always wait until an adult isn’t looking.”

  This was the longest speech Jess had given me since we’d met.

  “Well, she seemed to have a reaction to me. I feel like I need to do something.”

  “We don’t need your pity.” Anger crept through his voice again.

  “I’m not giving you pity. I’m giving you help.”

  “We don’t need your help, either.” Anger definitely left his mouth now.

  “How about hope?”

  He looked at me again and I returned his intense stare. He was a stubborn man, I could tell. He was strong, dependable, and protecting himself and his child. I understood this, but I wanted him to let me in a little. I could be stubborn as well.

  “I could do something. I don’t know? Keep reading to her. Play with her.”

  “Until she is too attached and you return to Chicago for good?” Jess interrupted. “That won’t help her.”

  “Well, I’m not going anywhere for a while. I need to think of Nana.”

  “Another reason we don’t need your help. And you will return to Chicago eventually. I
t’s in your blood.”

  “What does that mean?” I said, defensively.

  “You hate it here.”

  “What? How would you know how I feel? Besides, I don’t hate it here. I love Nana and her home.”

  “Yes, but we know all about the big city writer and the glorious social life you lead. This is small time for you and you have never hidden your hatred of Up North.” He made quotation marks in the air as he spoke the words “up north.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I remember you. You look different now, but I remember you with glasses and pigtails. You and your sister always strutting around in your bikini tops and jean shorts thinking you were better than everyone up here.”

  My mouth fell open. “We did not,” I defended, but I knew he might be right. Rosie and I did think we were better than the locals, which is why we never really made friends up here. We played with each other, sometimes with George Carpenter. Mainly, though, I was shocked Jess would remember me. It had to be from other people’s memory. I would not have made an impression on a boy with Jess’ reputation.

  “What do you want me to do, Jess?” I said in exasperation. “Stay away from her…and you?”

  I couldn’t look at him. I knew he was glaring at me, but I kept my eyes diverted toward the road. For some reason, I knew I couldn’t take the intensity of his hard stare that would inevitably tell me to go away. Saving me from further torture, the porch door creaked open and I swiveled on my knees to see Katie shyly standing in the open doorway. She wasn’t looking at me, but at her father. After an awkward moment of silence, Katie must have sensed it was okay to approach him and she ran into his outstretched arms. I turned to watch Jess, now sitting up, hold his daughter in his lap, arms wrapped around her in a tight embrace. A tear ran down his face, but he did not release his girl to wipe it away. It was such an intimate moment in which I could feel the forgiveness between them, and I felt like an intruder peeping into someone’s special drawer of secrets. I pushed myself up off the uncomfortable wooden porch floor and walked into the house, leaving father and daughter alone.

  When discussing important matters, a lady should be calm and reserved when speaking. Flaring her hands or gesturing in excitement is not appropriate in discussions.

  “Matters of Manners,” 1966

  SUE CARPTENTER HAD been a huge help to me and I didn’t know how to repay her. The custom back in Chicago would be a gift certificate for dinner to a famous restaurant, but where did you find a gift certificate up here, I wondered. I needed some exercise and I decided to run to The Inn on the opposite side of the highway, the only fancy restaurant on Elk Lake. I hoped the Carpenters were not sick of the place. My heart was pumping as I ran past the small uptown area and crossed behind the shops to Bridge Street, which ran the length of the harbor. Elk Rapids was located on the shores of Lake Michigan and Grand Traverse Bay, providing for sport and leisure in the marina. Continuing down Bridge Street toward US31, a second harbor opened into Elk Lake, one of several inner coastal chain-of-lakes. I wasn’t really paying attention as I ran and after crossing the highway, found myself in front of Jess’ radio repair shop. I knew this was a bold, risky move after Jess left the morning before with Katie and without a word. I would have expected more of Jess, but not Katie and her silence, and I didn’t laugh at the irony

  Fortunately, Tom Carpenter was working instead of Jess.

  “How are the repairs on my Nana’s radio going?”

  “Well…not well.” Tom looked in the direction of the clean workstation. The radio sat on top of it in the same condition as when I brought it in.

  “Are you going to work on it?” My eyebrows crinkled as I voiced my concern.

  “Jess will. He said he wanted the job.”

  “Why?” Then I thought better of hearing an answer. “Never mind. He seems a little busy right now. Maybe you should look at it.”

  “Oh no, Jess wants the challenge. Plus he never gives up once he’s started something.” Tom raised an eyebrow at me, wiggling it up and down, and smiling with that broad friendly grin he had. I could swear there was double meaning in Tom’s words, but that was probably wishful thinking.

  “Well, I don’t think I have long here and I want it fixed for Nana. She will want to take it with her whatever we decide to do.”

  Tom gave me a puzzled look. “Well, I can’t change his mind.”

  I let out a sigh. “When do you think he’ll get around to it?” My tone had turned snotty.

  “I suppose once he comes back from the library with Katie he can get right on it for you.” Tom was snippy back, but he said it more in a teasing manner like a child would use toward a parent. I laughed to break the tension.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologized. “See you later, okay? You don’t have to mention I stopped by.”

  “The library,” Tom repeated, raising his eyebrow again. “That’s where you’ll find them…him… if you’re interested.”

  I HATED THE fact that I had already decided to go to the library in my round trip of running back to Nana’s. Now I thought it might look obvious if I showed up at the old estate home turned public library. It’s a public place, I reminded myself. Anyone could enter. Plus Jess would not know that Tom had told me his whereabouts. Oh this is ridiculous, I thought. Why am I overthinking this? Now I’m acting like a high-schooler. I turned up my iPod as I ran with greater determination toward the library.

  Elk Rapids Public Library is a historical landmark. Originally a home, it sits atop a hill above the town, overlooking the bay. I always admired the position of the classic clapboard house. My guess was the placement brought in cool breezes and a beautiful view. Now the building was closed up with air-conditioning and the landscaping surrounding the structure covered most of the coastal view. The interior of the building was hard to imagine in its original state as a home with the shelves of books, library tables, and occasional chairs placed throughout the space in a very library-like manner.

  I told myself I was not looking for Jess, but of course I found him right away. The children’s area was off to the right side of the entry in an old parlor sitting room and a few parents were milling around as kids scanned through books and played with puzzles on the floor. Jess was talking to another woman and I went down the staircase to the lower level, which housed the non-fiction books.

  Skimming the titles, I wasn’t sure what I was searching for. Sometimes I did this, just stood among the stacks and scanned the shelves, staring at each book edge waiting for the right one to jump out at me. I was browsing for titles with “Alzheimer’s” and “dementia” when something caught my eye. A pamphlet on the top of the low shelf advertised information: Making Tough Decisions: Choices for Alzheimer’s Patients. I grabbed a pamphlet, knocking over the unbalanced display and spilling sheets of paper onto the floor. Bending down to collect my mess, another book caught my attention as it lay flat on the bottom shelf. Sign Language: The Art of Communication. I reached down and picked up the book instead of the dropped pamphlets. As I stood up, still reading the back cover, I backed into someone. Jess was leaning casually against the shelf, clenching his jaw. Oh no, I thought, Tom called him.

  “Light reading?” He actually smiled, and that chiseled face looked playful and dangerous, in a good way. But I was too distracted by my findings to concentrate for long on Jess’ natural good looks.

  “Jess, this is it. Sign language.”

  His smile faded.

  “Jess, you could teach Katie sign language. Then you wouldn’t have to guess her meaning.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?” My eyebrows pinched together as I glared at him.

  “And I never said I had to guess at her meaning,” he added, defending himself. I ignored his bitter tone.

  “This is what sign language is all about. Communication. If you two learned it and maybe her teacher, she could at least communicate her wants and needs…and emotions.”

  “We don’t need this. W
e’re doing just fine.”

  “Jess, don’t you want to be more than just fine?”

  “You mean better, like you.” He had his arms crossed now as he leaned against the shelving unit. His voice was rising and someone else walked down the stairs, giving us a stern look to quiet before returning up the staircase. Jess grabbed my arm and pulled me closer to the wall at the end of the stack. His hard grip also pulled me closer to him.

  “Jesus, you’re so pushy,” I responded, trying to pull my arms out of his grasp, and in several flailing motions ended up with my own hands on his upper arms. The book was now wedged between us and I knew the hardcover was all that separated my breasts from brushing up against his chest. I was hyper-aware of my sweating skin tingling from his touch and my clammy hands gripping his muscular arms. My heart raced, and my running tank was pushed up in a way that everything squeezed together, forcing it outward at Jess.

  “No, I don’t mean better like me. I mean better, period. In life. Do it for Katie?”

  “Don’t tell me what to do with my daughter. You know nothing about us. Me or her. You don’t even have children.”

  I felt like he’d slapped me. As if any woman in her twenties, who was single, was not unaware that she did not have children. There was a reminder every time I called my sister who had almost four, and she wasn’t even thirty yet. There was a reminder each time Nana asked about my love life. And there was a reminder each time I looked at Katie.

  I released my grip on Jess’ arms and grabbed the book as it slid between us. In a move I would never take with a precious book, I threw it back toward the bottom shelf.

  “You’re right, Jess,” I said and walked away.

  “Emily, I’m….” but I didn’t hear the rest as I climbed the stairs two at a time. Reaching the top of the steps, I immediately went to the counter to check out my books concerning Nana’s dementia. As I waited to check out, Katie walked up to me with a newer version of The Little Mermaid.