Chapter Four

Scott

She’s just standing there in front of the bar—a tiny, delicate thing. Her hair, which is the color of pennies, cascades down around her face and shoulders like waves of liquid copper. And her eyes… My God…those eyes that lock on mine from all the way across the packed pub. I barely notice the people standing around me, cheering for something I’m not interested in—because I can’t take my eyes off this woman. And it’s not just because she’s beautiful, although she is.

There’s something so familiar about her…and about this entire scene—a sense of déjà vu so strong that it makes me gasp out loud. I’ve been here before. Looking at her. But how? And when? No way I’d forget a girl like that. Hell, no way I’d lay eyes on a girl like that and let her out of my sight ever again. I’m sifting through the backlog of faces stored in my memory banks, trying to age them backward by ten years. Classmates, colleagues, friends, neighbors…

Oh. Oh…no. No, no, no. I feel myself flush awkwardly, embarrassed by the direction my thoughts were headed until I recognized her. And maybe just a little bit after that, too.

I’m looking at my brother’s wife. And she’s looking back at me.

As the light of recognition dawns on her face, she starts to close the distance between us, throwing her arms around me in a big hug.

“Scott!” she says, her voice muffled by my jacket. “I was worried you might not come.”

I keep my arms out to the side, refraining from returning the embrace. Holy crap. If she had any idea what I was just thinking about her…

“You probably don’t remember me…” she’s saying as she separates herself from my chest.

Looking down at the smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, I have the very unique experience of remembering someone who I’ve never really forgotten. Does that even make sense? Not in words, I don’t think. But in this creepy déjà vu thing going on here, it makes perfect sense.

I fumble to get my equilibrium back.

“Uhhh…no, of course, Jameson, of course I—I remember you. I’m sorry I couldn’t get here sooner. I had to fly out of a cornfield, and customs thought I was a drug mule, and then I hitched a ride with a woman and her iguana…”

As I hear myself, I realize I must sound crazy to her. She’s probably thinking I’m a user of the drugs I’ve been suspected of transporting. But then she throws back her head and laughs—and it’s like nothing I’ve heard before. It’s the sound of wind chimes and church bells and singing birds all rolled into one.

Wait. What? Where did that come from? I shake my head, trying to clear the bizarre Disneyesque thoughts from my head. I’m exhausted, and I’m getting a little punchy.

Yeah, that must be it.

“Uh, so what’s all the fuss about?” I ask, eager to move onto more neutral ground—and fast.

“Oh! Bailey—you remember my youngest sister? She’s just been crowned this year’s Princess Mary.”

My mouth drops open. “Bailey? Little Bailey? Isn’t she like ten or something?” I ask incredulously.

And there’s that laugh again. “Oh! Oh, goodness, you have been gone a while, haven’t you? No, Bailey just graduated from Mayhem High. She’ll be eighteen in a few weeks…” Suddenly, her face turns serious again. “I’m sorry, you’re probably wondering about your father, and here I am chattering away about my sisters…”

“No, no, it’s nice,” I assure her, already missing the smile of just a moment ago. “It’s nice to get caught up a little, you know? I’ve missed a lot…”

“Well, plenty of time to catch you up on everything later. Let me get you up to speed on your dad. I’m not sure how much they told you before you left, but Big Win had a stroke yesterday morning, and he’s been unresponsive ever since. His vitals are good…but things could go south at any time. So right now, we’re just kind of waiting to see what happens. He might wake up and be fine. He might wake up and be impaired. He might not wake up at all. We should know more—one way or the other—within the next week or so.”

I take this all in, hearing it and filing it away to be processed later, when I’m alone. Which really should be soon because I’m starting to feel as if I might just fall over any second now. “Do you think… I mean, should I go to him now? I was afraid he might not make it…”

When she shakes her head, the waves of hair swing back and forth with a hypnotic motion.

“No, no, he’s fine for the moment. But good Lord, you must be exhausted. I was thinking you could sleep at Big Win’s house—well, I mean, your house—tonight, and I could come by in the morning to take you to the hospital.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to put you out, especially with the baby. How is the baby, by the way? Maybe Win could just swing by on his way to work or something?”

“Okay, first of all, you’re not putting anyone out. And Jackson’s doing great. He’s walking around calling you ‘Unca Sock.’ It’s adorable! My sister—you remember Hennessy, right?—she’s going to meet me at your dad’s place tomorrow to watch him so I can go with you to the hospital. Now, as for your brother…well, you know how he can be. We’ll see what kind of mood he’s in tomorrow.”

“Sounds like Win’s as temperamental as always,” I note with a chuckle.

Jameson nods. “You could say that. Now, let me run you over to the house. Just give me a second to grab my purse…”

Before I can think better of it, I put out a hand and touch her arm. “I really can’t thank you enough, Jameson. For everything.”

A lovely blush rises from her collar to her cheeks.

“Don’t be silly, Scott. We’re family.”

And there it is, like a bucket of ice water over my head—my not-so-subtle reminder to back off. This woman is spoken for in a big way.

“Yes,” I have to agree, “we are.”

…

The dream is so vivid. I’m standing outside, under the punishing midday Mexican sun, when I look up at the sky. Suddenly there is rain—big, sweet, cool droplets falling on my face and forehead. But then it turns into more of a stream of liquid. And it smells surprisingly like apple juice. Apple juice?

“Jackson Winston Clarke! You stop that this instant!”

I’m wide awake now, staring up into the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen—eyes with a wicked little gleam the likes of which I’ve never seen before. It’s not sinister so much as…impish. Yes, definitely naughty in nature. This impression is further bolstered when he shakes his bright red sippy cup over my head, sending a tiny waterfall of apple juice raining down upon me.

Jackson, I presume.

“Hey there, big guy,” I mumble as I blink up at him and wipe the sticky dampness from my cheeks.

“Unca Sock!” he squeals before chortling and running away on chubby little legs.

I’m about to hoist myself up into a sitting position when the scenery changes abruptly. Suddenly I’m looking into those same green eyes…except they’re attached to the most beautiful face I’ve ever come across in nearly three decades on two continents in a half-dozen countries. And I’ve seen a lot of beautiful faces.

“Jameson?” I croak as I struggle to sit up.

She looks down at my dripping face in horror. “Oh, Scott, I’m so sorry! I was sure you’d be sleeping in one of the bedrooms. It never occurred to me you’d be right out here in the living room…and on the floor. Why are you on the floor, by the way?”

“Uh…I tried…but I’m really more comfortable on a hard surface. I’m not used to a soft bed anymore. So I just grabbed the pillow and blankets and moved out here.” I pull myself up off the brown shag carpet and to a standing position, mindful to take the sheet with me, lest I pose for my sister-in-law in nothing but my underwear. As it is, she politely averts her eyes from my toga-clad form.

“Let me throw on some clothes and we can talk properly,” I suggest and make my way down the hallway to my old room, where I’ve stashed the duffle. When I emerge in jeans and a T-shirt a few minutes later, I find her in the kitchen.

“Hi,” I say from the doorway of the kitchen. And then she spins around, and I swear my breath catches in my throat. Her smile is nothing short of spectacular. “I…uh…” The words I was about to utter have abandoned me. Just gotten on a bus and left town, leaving me standing here looking like an imbecile while she looks…stunning.

“Coffee?” she asks. I nod dumbly, and she turns back to what she was doing. “Again, I’m really sorry about waking you like that. And about the apple juice. Your nephew is a bit of a handful.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine, really. Where is the munchkin?” I ask, concerned that he’s nowhere to be seen. Maybe he’s off setting the garage on fire or something.

“He’s on your dad’s bed watching cartoons. My sister Hennessy is going to come by and pick him up in a few minutes so you and I can go to the hospital to see your father. I checked in this morning, and he’s doing about as well as can be expected. We’re still in that fifty-fifty window, though.”

I sit at the kitchen table and breathe a sigh of relief that things haven’t taken a turn for the worse overnight. “Well, I know I said this last night, but it bears repeating—I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’ve taken care of everything until I could get here.”

Jameson sets a cup of coffee down in front of me, gesturing to the cream and sugar already on the table, and joins me with her own mug. “Let’s just say I’m glad you’re here now. Someone needs to be able to make the big decisions in case…in case his condition should start to deteriorate. And, as honored as I am that Big Win asked me to look out for his interests, I’d just as soon not have that responsibility.”

Speaking of which…

“So will my brother be meeting us at the hospital?”

She gives me a sidelong glance as she fixes herself a cup.

“Uhhh…I’m not too sure about that. When I picked up Jax this morning, he seemed to be getting ready for work. But you never know what Win’s going to do.”

Something isn’t computing here. I put the coffee cup back down on the table and wait for her to join me.

“I’m sorry—what do you mean ‘when you picked up Jax this morning’? Wasn’t he at home with you and Win last night? He’s a little young for sleepovers, isn’t he?” Jameson’s lovely face scrunches up into some expression I can’t immediately identify. Concern? Maybe confusion? Whatever it is, I immediately regret being the one to put it there. “I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?”

She wraps her small hands around her mug, using it like an anchor as she leans forward across the table at me.

“Scott, didn’t Big Win tell you?”

Oh, hell. I do not like the sound of this. Whatever this is.

“Tell me what?” I ask slowly.

All at once she closes her eyes, rubs the bridge of her nose, and shakes her head. “Well, I suppose it was my news to tell. Mine and Win’s anyway… You should know that your brother and I are recently divorced.”

I must’ve heard the expression “the world shifts on its axis” a thousand times, but until this very moment, I’ve never truly known what it meant. From one moment to the next everything seems to change and flip and reverse and sway.

What I thought was true thirty seconds ago may not be true now. Or it may. All I know for sure is that the world has shifted on its axis and everything is different now.