“This is it,” Jenna told Callie and Brandy as she set the box on one of the tables at Sweet Somethings. The bakery had closed up shop over an hour ago and the place sat empty. “Everything James Harlin kept hidden away at the house.”
Hidden because their granddad hadn’t been a man to show his feelings. He hadn’t liked feeling, period. Not since he’d lost his precious wife all those years ago.
He’d hurt so bad after the loss that he’d retreated into a bottle and while Jenna had been too young to understand what he’d been thinking at the time, it was more than evident now.
James Harlin Tucker had been determined to numb himself. To keep from feeling ever again so that he didn’t have to go through the same pain that had nearly destroyed him when he’d buried his beloved.
And so he’d kept his distance from any and everyone after that, particularly the three little girls who’d invaded his home, and his heart.
She knew that now after uncovering all of the small things hidden away in the back of his dresser drawers and the empty spaces under his bed and the deep recesses of his closet.
And it was high time her sisters knew as well.
She watched as Callie reached into the box and retrieved a faded drawing that sat on top. “I did this at Vacation Bible school back when I was eight.” She eyed the red crayon depiction of their house, along with the barn out back and the old man sitting in his rocker on the front porch. “I thought he threw this away.”
“He didn’t throw anything away,” Jenna told them. She grabbed a small baggie filled with some dried up wildflowers that had long since withered and faded, and handed them to a stunned Brandy. “You gave these to him on his birthday. You remember that?”
The shock turned to soft wonder as her sister’s eyes brightened. “I don’t understand.”
“He wasn’t a jackass because he couldn’t help it. He was a jackass because it was easier. He didn’t want to feel anything for us.”
“But he did,” Jenna pointed out. “That’s why he kept all of this stuff. Because it meant something. He just didn’t want to admit it. To feel it.”
“To hurt,” Callie added. “Mama used to tell me how much he cried at grandma’s funeral. I never believed her. He was always so cold and stoic, except when he was drinking. And then he was just a downright jerk.”
“Being a jerk kept us at arm’s length,” Jenna said. “It wasn’t the right thing to do, but that’s what he did. The important thing is that we know he loved us.”
Brandy reached into the box and retrieved another drawing. This one depicting a birthday cake she’d done for him ages ago. “He did. In his own way, he did.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Callie said. “It doesn’t change what an asshole he was.”
But it did.
Jenna could see it in the softness of her eldest sister’s eyes, the small smile that played on her lips when she retrieved a tiny braided key chain she’d made as a Christmas present for him back when she’d been in the second grade.
It changed things for Callie, all right. And Brandy, as well, who sniffled as she stared at the stack of recipe cards she’d given him for yet a different birthday with all of his favorite foods written in green crayon and the promise to one day make each and every one for him.
“I never thought he cared about any of this.”
“He did. James Harlin cared about us,” Jenna said, retrieving the miniature American Girl doll from one of the McDonald’s Happy Meals he’d bought for her. “He loved us.”
And for the first time, the three Tucker sisters actually believed it.
* * *
He wasn’t going after her.
Hunter steeled himself against the nearly overwhelming urge and watched as she disappeared inside the motel room. While Jenna had decided not to demolish the house, she’d still had to move out for the reconstruction.
She’d moved in right next door to the Dairy Freeze, directly across the street from the station and so he’d seen her each and every day since he’d returned to work last week after being released from the hospital.
The longest week of his life as he’d wrestled with his feelings and the truth—that he wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Jenna Tucker. Not now.
Not ever.
He’d finally decided to stop with all the pleasantries and tell her that he still wanted her. That he didn’t want to want her, but he did, and there it was.
She hadn’t been nearly as receptive as he’d hoped.
“Are you kidding me?” she’d demanded. “You want to pick up where we left off?”
He’d meant it to sound much more romantic, but when she’d repeated his words back to him, he’d realized how fucked up it had all sounded.
That’s not the only thing he wanted.
The door shut and the lights flicked on inside and still, he didn’t move.
It’s over, buddy. She said so. You said so. Get over it.
He wanted to.
He wanted to turn and walk away the way he would have with any other woman.
But this was Jenna.
She was different. Special.
The truth rumbled from down deep, stirring a rush of denial as fierce as the emotion himself. Special? Hell, no. She was no such thing. She was like any other woman and no way did he actually love her.
* * *
Love wasn’t in the cards for them any more than it had been for Clara Bell and Shorty.
Shorty had been a sucker. Loving a woman who’d loved another. Loving her for so many years even though she didn’t love him back.
As much as he wanted to condemn Shorty for being so foolish, he couldn’t.
Because he knew how the old man felt. He knew what it was like to want to make someone else happy.
He fought the truth and turned on his heel. He didn’t love her and she didn’t love him, and that was good.
Easier.
He held tight to the thought, climbed into his SUV, and headed back to work.
If only he could shake the feeling that he was about to make the biggest mistake of his life.