Things I Never Told You, page 4
Zach recoiled as if I’d slapped him.
“It’s nice to have influential parents, isn’t it? Keeps certain facts out of the papers.”
“Look, Payton, I didn’t come here to rehash what happened that night.”
“Sounds to me like you only want to talk about selective details.” In an instant, my sister’s sixteen-year-old face flashed through my mind. No. I couldn’t think about Pepper. “I didn’t come to work this morning expecting you to show up here with some sort of self-righteous agenda—”
“Payton, I admit I had a couple of beers the night of the crash. I’ll even admit it to your parents. But Pepper was the one who caused the accident—”
“Oh, you don’t want to rehash what happened, but you’re okay with passing the blame? You think the crash wouldn’t have happened if someone else had been driving the snowmobile? If I’d been driving—?”
“That’s not what I’m saying!”
“I don’t know why you’re here.” I stood, shoving the table away, causing the pens to roll over the edge and onto the carpeted floor. “You can’t just show up and start talking to me about the night my sister died!”
Zach rose to his feet. “Payton, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to upset you—”
“What did you think, Zach? That we’d have a nice chat about Pepper and the night you killed her?”
That shut him up.
Zach stood in front of me with his head bowed, staring at the carpet. Maybe he’d forget this whole idea of talking to my parents.
He ran a hand through his black hair, a sigh shifting his shoulders beneath the jean jacket covering his plain cotton T-shirt. When he looked at me again, the shadows had reappeared in his gray eyes. “I imagined this conversation for years. Prayed about it. And I never thought it would be an easy one.”
“I’ll give you credit for that.” I didn’t even attempt to hold back the sharp words.
“I’ve never forgotten that night.” He held up his hand, fending off my reply. “I’m not comparing my pain to yours, Payton. I just wanted the chance to talk to you. To your family. The chance to say I’m sorry.”
“Well, you’ve talked to me. That’s going to have to be enough.”
He straightened his shoulders. Took a deep breath. “Won’t you at least think about telling your parents that I’d like to see them?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Will they be at the ceremony?”
“If they are, I don’t want you anywhere near them.” I backed away from this unwelcome visitor from my past. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work.”
“If you change your mind and want to get in touch with me, I’m on Facebook—”
“I won’t.”
Zach nodded.
If he expected me to say something like “Thank you for coming,” or “Have a good life,” that wasn’t going to happen. I escaped into the back room without even saying good-bye, holding my breath until I heard the soft chime indicating the front door had opened and Zach had left.
Both Bianca and Kimberlee tried to act as if they hadn’t been waiting for my return. I restacked a pile of invoices on my desk and shook my head. “Don’t ask. Not work-related.”
“Are you okay?” Kimberlee seemed ready to come give me a hug, so I slipped into my chair and rolled it close to my desk.
No, I wasn’t okay. I hadn’t been okay for years. What would she say if I admitted that?
“I’m fine. An unexpected interruption. We’ve all dealt with those.”
“Nash doesn’t have some unknown competition he should be worrying about then?” Kimberlee waggled her eyebrows.
“Hardly.” Zach hadn’t been my type in high school, and we had nothing in common now.
Except for the night my twin sister died . . . something that would forever link our lives together.
4
JILLIAN LEANED AWAY from the table as the waitress set a plate in front of her. Strawberry-vanilla stuffed French toast. Yum. Her blood sugar would skyrocket and the scale would groan, but her agenda for today’s family breakfast warranted good old-fashioned comfort food.
Just because she had to be a grown-up today didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the kind of breakfast she’d indulged in as a kid.
The table became a veritable advertisement for IHOP as the waitress served the rest of the family. Geoff, who loved breakfast more than any other meal, had chosen the sampler. Her parents split a pancake and egg combo. Payton requested more coffee and would probably pick at her bowl of oatmeal with almonds and walnuts or let Nash eat it when he finished his scramble. And Johanna, ever vigilant about her calories, had opted for a veggie omelet and fruit.
If her yet-unspoken announcement hadn’t been lurking in the back of her mind, Jillian could have gotten lost in comparing this morning to childhood weekend visits to IHOP to celebrate report cards. Or a sports victory. Or just because their parents thought breakfast at a restaurant sounded fun.
As she reached for her glass of orange juice, her engagement ring, set off by her French manicure, caught her eye—a sure sign she wasn’t just the middle Thatcher daughter anymore. In less than a year, she’d be Jillian Hennessey, a married woman. If choosing to say, “I do” to forever with someone didn’t mean you were grown up, facing a cancer diagnosis did.
Of course, cancer had nothing to do with age. Children battled cancer every day.
“Jill.” The sound of Geoff’s voice brought Jillian’s focus back to the present. “Honey, your mom asked if we wanted to talk about the wedding.”
“Oh, sorry. My thoughts wandered for a moment.”
“I imagine between work and planning a wedding, you’ve got a lot on your mind.” Her mother transferred some of the scrambled eggs from the plate in front of her father to a smaller plate, adding a slice of crisp bacon.
“Yes.” Beneath the table, Geoff clasped her hand in his, intertwining their fingers and caressing her skin with his thumb. She was tempted to scoot closer to him and rest her head on his shoulder. Savor his closeness.
How was it that when she was with him, she didn’t think about her weight? It wasn’t that she felt beautiful. No. She didn’t know if she’d ever feel beautiful. But Geoff loved her. That she did know. When he looked at her, he didn’t compare her to other women. He never looked at other women when they were together. She was enough for him.
The only other man who had accepted her so completely was her dad.
“One day, Jilly . . . One day a guy is going to look at you and say, ‘You are exactly what I want in a woman.’ And you’ll believe him.”
Every time her father had told her that when she was growing up, she’d thought he said it because, well, a dad had to say those kinds of things to his daughter. But when she met Geoff, she was finally able to tell her dad that he’d been right all those years.
With Geoff next to her, she could face her family and say what she needed to say. Telling him about her cancer ahead of this family get-together meant at least one person would remain calm when she revealed her secret. Why wait until after breakfast to share her news?
“I’ll admit juggling work and the wedding is interesting.” Jillian paused. Sweat slicked her palms, but she refused to let go of Geoff’s hand. Her pulse beat at the base of her throat and her words seemed to tumble over one another. “And then something else came up that has added a bit more pressure.”
Now she had everyone’s attention. She’d practiced what she wanted to say, talking it through with Geoff—once he’d recovered from the shock of her news himself. Once he’d understood why she hadn’t told him sooner about her diagnosis. He’d had no hesitation in taking time away from work for Sunday breakfast. She’d even rehearsed the words in her head as they drove to the restaurant.
Quick, like swallowing bad-tasting medicine. That was best.
“I’ve been diagnosed with breast cancer.”
Her father stilled, his brow furrowing. Her mother’s mouth formed a silent O, even as her eyes filled much too fast with tears. Payton’s spoon clinked against her mug, shattering the sudden silence that shrouded their table, as Nash put his arm around her. Johanna seemed to assess everyone else, her face a mask against her emotions.
Johanna spoke first. “When did you find this out, Jillian?”
“I got the initial diagnosis the night of my engagement party.”
“What?” Her mother’s gasp was laden with tears. “And you didn’t tell us?”
“There was nothing to say, Mom. I met with Dr. Sartwell that Monday and got more information—”
“What do you know?” Again, Johanna spoke.
“My doctor is optimistic we’ve caught this early.”
“When do you have your next appointment?”
“I’ve already seen the breast surgeon Dr. Sartwell recommended.”
“Jillian!” Her mother’s fork clattered against her plate. “Why didn’t you say anything before now?”
“I wanted to have something specific to tell you.”
Geoff drew her closer as if the physical action would remind her that she wasn’t facing her family alone. “If it makes you feel any better, Mrs. Thatcher, Jillian didn’t tell me anything until after she’d had her preliminary visit with the breast surgeon five days ago.”
Had she ever heard Geoff sound so serious?
“Like Geoff said, I met with Dr. Williamson last Wednesday. Dr. Sartwell said she’s one of the top surgeons in town.” Jillian forced herself to slow down. “We discussed what needs to happen next. I’m scheduled to have an MRI this Tuesday morning—”
“You mean . . . the day after tomorrow?” Her mother’s voice quavered.
“Yes. And then I’ll wait for results. Like I said, Dr. Sartwell is optimistic.” Jillian infused her voice with confidence. Maybe if she kept repeating the word optimistic, her family would finally hear it. “The lesion was only the size of a grape—a small grape.”
“When will you have the complete results?” Johanna had abandoned her breakfast and taken on the role of interrogator.
“I’ll see Dr. Williamson the following Monday.” In some ways, Johanna was making this easier. All Jillian had to do was answer her sister’s questions. “Mom . . . Dad . . . I’m going to be okay.”
“You don’t know that.” Her mother’s tortured whisper scraped Jillian’s nerves raw. “I can’t . . . I can’t lose another daughter.”
Across the table, Payton’s face whitened, but she remained silent.
Her father wrapped his arm around her mother’s shoulders. “Jillian said the doctor has given her a good prognosis, Heather—”
“I know that’s what she said, but we don’t know . . .”
Maybe her decision to share this with her family without more positive information had been wrong. “I’m sorry. Maybe I should have waited—”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Jillian.” Johanna negated Jillian’s apology. “Of course you had to tell us. We’re your family. Did you do any research on this Dr. Williamson?”
“No. I trust Dr. Sartwell’s recommendation.”
“Really? Don’t you know anything about taking charge of your health care?”
“It’s her choice, Johanna.” At last, Payton spoke up, but only to take on Johanna. Of course.
“I’m just saying she should have gotten a second opinion—”
Payton’s response was quick and sharp. “Let it be, will you? Please?”
Nash leaned over and whispered something into Payton’s ear, causing her to wrap her hands around her mug of coffee and look away.
Jillian stared down at her plate of food, the whipped cream collapsing and puddling into the syrup covering her French toast. How was she supposed to fix this? Johanna and Payton were on the verge of another quarrel, and typical or not, she wasn’t up for it. Her mother was about to fall apart at the thought of her dying like Pepper. And her father was once again going to have to reassure everyone. So much for the idea of choosing a public place and maintaining some sort of control over the situation. She’d been fooling herself.
She’d known her announcement would upset her family. But was it wrong to want someone to ask her how she was doing? For her sisters to stop fighting and focus on her for once? To see her? To not want her mother to compare her cancer to losing Pepper, but just let this moment be about her?
Was it so wrong to need her family?
“Jill, is it all right with you if I say something?” Geoff lowered his voice so only she could hear his question.
“I guess so.” Jillian pressed her fingertips against the pressure building behind her forehead. She closed her eyes, blocking the sight of the breakfast in front of her, the rich confection unsettling her stomach.
Geoff slipped his hand from hers, but only so he could place his arm around her waist and pull her even closer. “I’m certain we all have our opinions about how we would have handled this situation. But Jillian did what she thought was right.”
Jillian wanted to twist and stare at her boisterous fiancé who had gone so somber on her, but she remained still. Maybe Geoff could handle her family. She certainly couldn’t.
“I admit I would have liked Jillian to tell me about everything sooner. I hate the thought of her going to the biopsy appointment by herself.” Geoff paused for a moment. “But like I said, that was her choice. We all know now. The most important thing is that we support Jillian however she wants us to.”
Geoff’s words helped Jillian straighten up and face her family again. She had to remember she wasn’t alone in this.
“You’re right, Geoff.” Her father nodded. “We’re all just a bit shocked by this news.”
“I know, sir. I was, too. I wish there’d been some way to prepare you better, but there’s really no good way to say this . . .”
“Well, it’s been said. Now we have to deal with it.” Her father offered her a smile. “We’re here for you, Jilly.”
His words caused tears to threaten. Instead, she forced herself to smile in return. “I know you are, Dad. I promise to let you all know as soon as I have the MRI results.”
“Do you want me to go with you? I can take off work.” Johanna was already pulling up her calendar on her phone.
“Thank you for the offer, Johanna, but there’s no need for anyone to take me to the appointment.”
“I wanted to be there with her, but Jillian insisted I not miss work because of the deadline we’re dealing with.”
“The appointment’s scheduled first thing in the morning, so I’ll be back at work almost on time.”
“If you change your mind, you know any one of us would go with you.” Her mother offered an almost-normal smile.
Jillian shifted away from Geoff, picking up her knife and fork and slicing into her French toast. If she took small bites, maybe she could stomach the too-sweet dish. “I appreciate that. Now that everyone knows, maybe we can get back to our breakfast?”
“But I think we should discuss some things—” Johanna raised her voice enough that several people at nearby tables glanced at her.
Jillian gathered her strength to respond to her sister, but Geoff spoke first. “There’s really nothing to discuss until after we get the final report from the surgeon. What Jillian wanted to do this morning was to inform you of her diagnosis and tell you about her upcoming appointment. Why don’t we talk about something more pleasant, like the wedding, okay?”
And just like that, Geoff had done it again and come to her rescue. That was sweeter and more comforting than any amount of French toast topped with a lavish amount of strawberries and whipped cream could ever be.
I was almost alone. Almost. Just a few more steps and I would be inside my town house. By myself. Able to begin processing Jillian’s startling announcement earlier this morning.
“Nash, please, just go home.” I leaned against the frame of the front door, which seemed to be the only thing holding me upright.
“But I’m worried about you.” Instead of leaving, Nash snaked an arm around my waist and pulled me close. “You’ve been so quiet all day.”
“I just found out my sister has cancer. What do you expect?” I rested the palm of my hand against his chest. “I’m trying to process all of this.”
“Let me help you process.” He pressed his lips to mine, lingering for a moment. He was too close. The scent of his aftershave too heavy.
“I don’t think ‘processing’ is what you really have in mind.” Nash’s kisses, usually so enticing, sparked no response from me. Well, not the kind of response he was hoping for.
“You can talk . . . I can listen. I could even run you a bubble bath . . .”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “A bubble bath? Me?”
“Just trying to help you unwind. Would you like a back rub maybe?”
When he kissed my neck, his breath hot against my skin, I shrugged out of his arms. What part of “not interested” did the man not understand? I didn’t want to talk . . . or do anything else. I’d already let him convince me to go see some sci-fi movie I didn’t care about, followed by an early dinner at a Mexican restaurant. I didn’t remember how the movie ended or what I’d eaten.
“I just want some time to myself.” There. That was as plain as I could say it, other than my “just go home” statement, which he’d already ignored. “It’s been a long day. I’ll probably go to bed early so I’m ready for work tomorrow.”
Nash backed off. Finally. If I didn’t look in his eyes, I wouldn’t see how hurt he was to be kicked out. Not that I’d even let him in the door tonight. It wasn’t his fault he wanted more of me than I was able to give him. How did I explain that it wasn’t him, it was me? A romantic cliché that had ended all of my adult relationships, yes. It’s not you, it’s me. But just because I’d said those five words over and over again in one form or another didn’t make them any less true.
My capacity to love, to be close to someone else, had been wounded ten years ago and never healed.
But how was Nash supposed to know that when I barely mentioned Pepper to him or to anyone else? A decade after my sister’s death, most people didn’t even know I had a twin.
