Emma ached all over. Ached to take Jayden in her arms and ease his pain. Ached for him. With him. He hadn’t killed anyone. But he’d unknowingly sent a young man to his death.
No way that wouldn’t have changed him forever.
Processing in the way she knew, she asked, “Were there any charges pressed?”
In today’s world there might have been, but back then...
“No. No one forced him to jump off that cliff. And he didn’t tell anyone he wasn’t a strong swimmer. Two other guys, who’d both had more to drink than he had, made it back. Emory didn’t even have enough alcohol in his system to be considered legally drunk. And our folks could all afford to get us the best lawyers.” He said the last word with bitterness.
“Your parents got you a high-powered lawyer?”
“They tried. I fired him. I was an adult and within my rights to do so. I planned to use a public defender. Maybe I thought it would look better. I don’t know what I thought. As it turned out, we hadn’t needed lawyers. The fraternity was disbanded, though.”
“What about Emory’s family? His parents? Did they come after you?”
“Not that I was ever made aware. I’ve always figured they probably tried. They would have to have wanted to. I apparently had more control over their son than they did...all their years of teaching, of guiding...and I, in my obliviousness, undid it all. I knew how much value he put in what I said. I should have been more responsible to that.”
Maybe. But he’d been a kid, too. Not a parent.
“You’ve never talked to them?” she asked. “Even at the funeral?”
“I didn’t go. I didn’t want to cause them any more pain...”
“And since?”
“The same.”
“You deal with people who have things to be sorry for every day of your life, Jayden. What’s one of the first things they’re told to do if they want to get right with themselves and their world?”
“Make amends.” He glanced away and then back. “No way I can bring him back,” he said. “I can’t help this one. Except, by living in such a way that I don’t cause them further pain or bitterness. Like having a family of my own when they’ll never have the grandchildren Emory could have given them.”
What he said made logical sense. But it didn’t sit right with Emma’s heart. Her own choices didn’t sit all that great with her heart most of the time, either. Not in an emotional sense. Ms. Shadow tended to have more control in that area.
“It still seems like...you’re deciding for them how they feel. What they need. Maybe you should at least try to see them. Maybe they’d welcome a chance to yell at you, if nothing else. It might help them. And if they don’t want to see you, they’ll mostly likely just refuse the gesture.” He had to at least try. It seemed so clear to her.
He didn’t respond.
Other than his own self-loathing, Jayden showed little emotion at all. She understood. That kind of pain didn’t let itself out. Didn’t let you know even a moment’s relief.
“When my baby died, I wished they’d throw me in jail,” she said, though this wasn’t about her. She just had no coping skills to share with him on this one. Sometimes the pain was so deep, the best you could do was sit in it with someone.
He glanced over at her then and the look in his eyes...she didn’t really get it. They glistened. And weren’t completely dead.
“Instead we’re left to pay a silent price for the rest of our lives.” He nodded as he held her gaze.
She got it then. The thing between them. It was a whole lot more than a fling. Way beyond business. They were like souls, meeting in the only place they ever could.
Aloneness.
They could hang out. Talk. Have sex. She could maybe even raise a child. But ultimate union? Their personal prisons weren’t ever going to allow that.
She scooted over to him. Wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head in his chest. They might not have it all, but they had something.
When his arms finally wrapped around her, too, squeezing tight, she was thankful they no longer had to be solitary in their confinements.
Standing in the shower the next morning, Jayden tried to wash off everything that was different about him and return to the person he knew. He’d left Emma’s house before she was even out of bed. Purposely. Though he’d joined her back in bed the evening before, he’d lain awake most of the night.
Was he helping her, a woman grieving for the child she’d lost when she’d been still partially a child herself, a woman who had a sizable collection of past relationship hurts? Or was he just serving himself?
Did it matter if he was getting what he wanted in being with Emma, as long as he didn’t have a family with her?
Walking away from her, once they’d caught whoever was behind the threats, didn’t seem right. And yet...finding his own personal happiness...not right, either. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t waltz out and have what he’d stolen from Emory.
There were some things that couldn’t change.
His father had taught him that.
Stopping with his head under the spray, he straightened, pulling himself out of the water completely as that last thought occurred to him. His father...who never changed. Sometimes that was a good thing.
And Jayden had witnessed times when, while it wasn’t necessarily bad, it seemed...sad somehow. Like never tasting new foods. Such a small thing. But almost seemed...wasteful...somehow, to have perfectly good taste buds in your mouth and not let them have an experience...
Shutting off the water, he grabbed his towel. Dried off as he always did. Top down. Feet last. And thought about Emma’s suggestion that he try to see the Smiths.
He wanted to hate the idea. To know in his gut that it was wrong. He’d been over the question in every way he could ask and answer it during the long night hours.
And feared that it was himself he was sparing by staying away from Emory’s parents all these years. How could he face them, knowing what he’d done?
Because, like Emma had said, if the Smiths didn’t want to see him, they didn’t need him to protect them from it happening. They’d simply say no.
It would be different if they’d ever told him to stay away from them. Then he’d be doing so for their sakes. Out of respect.
So...was it himself he was protecting?
And so thinking, how could he not at least offer to see them?
It was Saturday. A day he’d taken off because of the week they’d had. He’d planned to surf. Work out. Buy cat food.
Maybe try to get a look at the thing. And figure out what to call it. It was eating the food he left every morning. Leaving messes for him to clean.
Officers would be on Emma’s house until he returned to her house that evening. Or someone would catch a lucky break and they’d find the guy trying to shut her up. For all he knew, she’d be going into the office. She often did on Saturdays. And since she’d been working from home all week, she’d probably want to get caught up on things while the office was quiet.
That’s what he would choose to do if it were him: go to his office.
Putting on dark shorts and a casual pullover shirt, he slipped on a pair of dock shoes and grabbed his keys. The gym was open all day. He could go to the beach in the afternoon and at least get in some swimming. Maybe, that morning, he’d drive down to see his folks. To talk to his dad about trying new foods.
On his way, he made a call. Asked Leon, his sometime partner, for a favor. And when Leon got back to him with a number, he instructed his hands-free dialing assistant to make the call.
Emory’s mother started to cry when he identified himself to her. Told him he was welcome to come by anytime. And within the hour, he was sitting in her living room, holding a glass of tea he didn’t want.
She’d moved since he’d known them. Into a much smaller place. Emory had had a younger sister, he recalled, who was now married with a couple of kids and living just a couple of blocks away.
Mrs. Smith—Ms. White, now that she was divorced—lived alone.
Another nail in his coffin.
The death of a child was one of the major causes for divorce, Jayden knew from his many hours of counseling studies.
“I’m just so sorry,” he blurted out in the middle of their catching-up politeness. “I wish it could have been me, not him, Ms. White. I swear to you, not a day goes by that I don’t think of him. Every morning, I know my goal is to live in a way that would honor my having known him.”
He didn’t say Emory’s name. Found himself oddly out of sorts. Emotional. Almost weak with it.
Tears filled her eyes. She straightened, smiling. Didn’t seem weak at all.
“He adored you, Jayden. All he ever wanted was to be like you, and the sad truth was, it wasn’t ever going to happen. He’d always been a small boy, small-boned. He could build his strength, but he was never going to have broad shoulders. Or a body that could tackle other men.”
“I shouldn’t have encouraged him.”
“To the contrary—you were the one who saved him.”
He shook his head. Hadn’t she been told the truth of what had happened? Could that be possible?
“You did.” She continued, “He never had any friends. Never fit in. He told me once, in junior high, that he felt like a freak. I think that’s why he originally insisted on trying out for football. And then he met you. The quarterback. A star. You noticed him. And rather than crush his dream, you showed him a way he could be part of the team. He became a kicker, and his whole life changed. He loved high school. He dated. Went out. Had friends. You gave that to him.”
At what cost? he wondered. He’d taken so much more.
“He’ll never give you grandchildren.”
“No, he won’t. But I already have grandchildren. I babysit for them five days a week. Some people don’t get that lucky.”
Jayden didn’t buy it. She was just being nice. He shouldn’t have come.
“Emory died doing what he wanted to do more than anything else in the world,” she said softly, tearing up again. “He died becoming a brother to you.”
His vision blurred slightly. He blinked.
“And Mr. Smith...does he feel the same way?” he asked. Man-to-man, would Emory’s father let the bitterness fly? Give Jayden the lashing he deserved?
“He’s still embittered. Angry.”
Rightfully so. If it would do the man any good to berate Jayden in person, he’d stop by there, too. If she’d give him an address.
“My ex-husband blames himself for pushing Emory so hard. Wanting him to be a man. He was part of the reason Emory chose football—to find his manhood. His father had played. When Emory played his first high school game, you’d have thought his father had won the lottery. And when he got a scholarship, it’s all my ex-husband could talk about. He was being a dad. Trying to have relationship with his son.
“If Emory had chosen to go to Harvard, my ex-husband would have bragged about that, too. But he doesn’t see it that way.” She sighed softly. “He thinks he drove Emory to be something he was not. That he pushed him into choosing to prove himself yet again by jumping off that cliff. He cut me off first, certain that I blamed him. No amount of telling him different, no amount of counseling, could get through to him. When our daughter got married, he withdrew even more. He hasn’t even met his second grandchild...”
Jayden ended up spending half a day with Emory’s mother. He took her out to lunch. Told her about his career. About using every day he had left on earth to honor life. To put others first. To make up for the selfish ass he’d been.
He didn’t put it in quite those words, but he needed her to know. Her son’s life had mattered. So much so, that Jayden’s was completely shaped by it.
On his way out of town he tried to see Emory’s father, too.
The man was polite, respectful, but didn’t want to meet.
Jayden understood completely. There were days he struggled to look himself in the mirror, too, but maybe it would be a little easier, going forward. He’d failed Emory, but he’d helped him, too, even if it had been unknowingly. And he hadn’t been solely responsible for the boy’s pushing himself too hard as Jayden had previously somehow thought.
Maybe, he’d reach out to Mr. Smith again. However often it took, until he and the man could find some kind of way to forgive each other—and then themselves.
Emma was at her desk at work, organizing the coming week and trying to get everything done quickly so that the deputy standing outside her door could move on to other pursuits. Because it was Saturday, the courts regular security detail was absent, but she couldn’t be in the building without protection.
Maybe overkill. Maybe not.
At least when the officers were sitting outside her house, they were there on a first-come, first-serve basis when it came to extra pay. That was city. The court was county detail.
She almost ignored her cell when it rang, figuring she could return the call from home. But when she looked and saw it was Jayden, she picked up. As far as she knew, he was working.
Or doing whatever he did when he wasn’t.
Maybe someday she’d know what he did for fun—or even do it with him sometimes.
“I’ve been thinking about that teenager Suzie told you about,” he said. “I agree with you that there’s got to be something in it. When you were relaying what she told you, in such detail...she had to have been talking about something real. Or she’s a consummate liar. If she’s lying, she’s covering for someone else. If not, we need to find the kid. He’d be twenty-one or -two by now. He might be able to tell us something about her that we don’t know.”
Or about Bill. More likely about Bill.
“Okay.”
“I just wanted you to know that I’m heading back to talk to the neighbors again. Just to see if there’s anything at all they can tell us...”
He couldn’t do so as a parole officer. But there was no law against a guy talking to someone who was willing to talk. Private detectives did it all the time.
But the real news was not that he was working outside his normal boundaries. She suspected Jayden did stuff like that all the time. It was the risk-taker in him. The guy who didn’t just fly by what was expected of him. But rather by what he expected of himself.
The real news was that he’d called to let her know he was going back.
There’d been no professional reason for him to have done so.
And she wasn’t sure if she should allow herself to make something of that. She wanted to so badly believe there was something more than physical fire between them, even if it was highly unconventional.
But in the past anytime she’d trusted her “wants,” listened to the Ms. Shadow side of her, others had been hurt. And she had been, too.
Still, she couldn’t close the door to the possibility. She and Jayden were special. No matter which side of her she asked.