“But…how do you know all this?” Sam stared at her, confused. Meg had spoken as if she’d been right there in Jake’s house, observing him and taking notes. This was all so weird.
"Well, you haven’t denied anything I’ve said so far, have you?” When Sam didn’t answer Meg chuckled. “A lot of it was just speculation but I was right, wasn’t I?”
Sam could only nod.
“Okay, so now you know what you have to do. Talk to him and after that I don’t want to see you with a long face around here. You’ve done enough moping to last all year.” With that, Meg got up and gave her a quick hug. “Now let me go check on your father. It’s way too quiet in that kitchen.”
Sam raised an eyebrow. “He probably fell asleep.”
Meg responded with a grunt. “You know him well.”
When she was gone Sam stared at the computer screen. She was giving serious thought to Meg’s suggestion.
The problem was, that conversation would require a whole lot of courage.
******
Jake was back in Long Island and it was all because of Samantha Fox.
He’d been surprised when, after several days of silence, she’d called him on the phone. He’d been more surprised when she brought up the subject of his wife. And then she’d floored him with the most bizarre suggestion he’d ever heard. According to Sam he needed to say a proper goodbye to Jessica. Only then would he be able to heal. Most important, though, he was to ask Jessica’s forgiveness. And that was why he was here.
Jake climbed the grassy bank to the little knoll where Jessica’s grave lay. His heart heavy, he approached the little mound then stood looking down at the headstone with the angel, its arms spread wide as if to welcome him. “Jessica Layne McKoy” the headstone read, “1974 – 2009. Loving daughter, wife and friend. May you rest in peace.”
Rest in peace. Were there any words sadder than those? His heart breaking, Jake swallowed hard, fighting to keep his emotions in check. He lowered his head and sank to his knees in the grass.
“Jessica,” he said, his voice mere whisper. “Jessica.” That was as far as he got.
His heart swell inside him and he felt like it would burst from his chest. It was such agony, kneeling there at her feet, knowing that she was lying beneath the ground – but it was not her. Not really. The real Jessica, the one he’d known and loved, the true essence of who she’d been, had departed three years ago.
Since the funeral Jake had been back to Jessica’s grave three times but this trip was hardest of all. Each time before he’d told her he loved her but now he couldn’t speak. There was a lump in his throat, choking him as he fought hard for control.
But it was no use. He slumped forward, his forehead pressed into the grass, and for the first time since the funeral the tears came.
Jake dug his fingers into the grass, his shoulders heaving as he gave way to the waves of grief that washed over him. Jessica, dear sweet Jessica was gone forever, and no amount of self-torture or denial would bring her back. It had finally sunken in. He had to say goodbye.
“Jessica.” His voice was a broken whisper. “I'm sorry. So sorry. Please…forgive me.”
The ache in his heart burst and spread through his body and he moaned in pain that was almost physical. But then a gentle breeze came floating over his back like a soft caress, somehow soothing his tortured soul. Dared he think it was a sign? Could he be forgiven? For a long time Jake stayed there, as still as stone, his thoughts going back to the wonderful times he’d shared with Jessica. Those years he’d had with her were a gift he would cherish as long as he had breath.
“Thank you,” he whispered, “for all the love you gave me. I will never forget you.”
Later, much later, as he walked back down the hill and toward the cemetery gate he drew in a deep, cleansing breath. He now knew what he had to do. There was only one way he could make things right in his soul. The thought had come to him as he bowed there on his knees.
Now he had a plan - and a purpose - and he was ready to move.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Not the moping again.” Meg stepped into the office and slammed the door behind her. “What a rain. It felt like God was up there throwing down buckets of water.” She shook out her umbrella and leaned it in the corner then unbuttoned her raincoat and shrugged it off. She hung it on the coat rack then turned to Sam. “So what are you doing here so early in the morning? It’s not even eight o’clock yet.”
“I had some charts I wanted to print off before I hit the road.”
“And I bet you haven’t done it yet.” Meg patted her bun and paused to give her an accusing look.
“What? Printed the charts?”
“No, silly.” Meg waved a hand as if in exasperation. “Called the guy. Remember our talk?”
“I remember,” Sam said quietly. “And I did call him.”
Meg’s eyebrows shot up. “You did? How did it go?”
“I’m…not sure.” Sam began stacking papers, trying to look busy. She didn’t want Meg to see how nervous she was. “We spoke on the phone and he seemed to understand what I was trying to say but then…it’s been a week. I haven’t heard from him since.” She lifted her eyes from the papers and looked at Meg. “Do you think I should call again?”
“Of course you should, child. As long as your conversation ended on a friendly note there’s no reason not to.”
Sam pulled at a lock of hair that had slipped out of her scrunchie. “I don’t want him to think I’m stalking.”
“That’s not stalking, that’s being proactive. Listen,” Meg gave her a conspiratorial look,” “men don’t know what they want half the time. You have to prod them along. If I had waited for your father to make up his mind on his own do you think we’d be married today?” She gave her trademark snort. “I’d probably still be waiting for him to pop the question.”