Down and Dead in Dallas, page 20
“Mmm?”
“I really am sorry.”
“I know, honey. Me, too.”
“What are you sorry for?” she asked. “All you did was help a desperate woman find safety and try to protect another you thought had lost her mind. Well, her memory.”
“I’d like the chance to see where things go for us,” he admitted. “I think it could be… special. I know for fact it’s rare.”
“Me, too.” She straightened. “I’m not going to give up on us. I’m just not. After all we’ve been through, we deserve a chance—and that’s just what I’m going to tell that committee.”
“Um, I don’t think we’ll get to do much telling. I think we’ll be mostly listening.”
“Then I’ll hope for that, too.” She fell silent and stared at the sky. “The sun will be coming up soon.”
“We’d better call it a night then. See you at sundown?” he asked.
She smiled. “Your window or mine?”
“Uh, both.”
“Works for me. Sundown, then.”
Chapter 29
At sundown, Christine heard something ping at the window.
She rushed around the little table, went to the window, and opened it wide. “Hi.” Just looking at him left her breathless.
He held a rope in his hand. “Catch the end of this.” He tossed the rope to her. Something heavy and metal slid off and landed on her foot. “Ouch!”
“Sorry,” he said. “It’s a pulley. Put it back on the rope.”
“Why?”
“So I can send you over some food.” He told her how to rig the ropes and then attached a heavy pillowcase. “Pull.”
She fed the rope, hand over hand, until she could reach the pillowcase. “Hey, take-out! This is awesome, Jackson.”
He laughed. “I figure your body has had all the junk food it can take.”
“I am about out of peanut butter.”
He scrunched his face, twisting his lips.
“So what’s in here?” She peeked inside the white case.
“Chinese.” He shrugged. “I had a lot of time on my hands and little to do, so I cooked.”
“I love Chinese.” She smiled and inhaled. “Sesame chicken, spring rolls, fried rice and vegetables. It’s the mother-lode!”
He laughed deeper. “No fortune cookie. Sorry.”
“Would it be rude to eat while we talk?” She was starved.
“No, I waited for you, so we could eat together.”
By moonlight instead of candlelight, they had an intimate dinner. He, in his window, and she in hers. And they shared good conversation. Life, death and the universe conversation about things that matter. And about little, everyday nothings that didn’t matter at all.
“Jackson, I’m surprised you haven’t been snatched up by a dozen women. You cook, you understand people and what’s important in life, and you have a great sense of humor and a huge heart.”
He blushed a little and a reluctant smile curved his lips. “If you keep this up, I’m going to have a big head, too.”
“Facts don’t inflate the ego. Just flattery. I don’t do flattery.” She grinned. “Did you make dessert?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether or not you’ll share that bottle of wine I saw in your fridge.”
“Of course, I will.” She set her plate aside and crawled down from the window. On retrieving the wine from the fridge, she sent it to him in the pillowcase over the rope pulley. “There you go.”
“I need the corkscrew.”
“I’ll have to find one. Send the case back.” She rummaged through three drawers and then located it. Back at the window, she slipped it into the waiting case then sent it to him.
“Thanks.” He brought the case inside his window so she couldn’t see what he was putting inside, then attached it to the rope and sent the case back to her. “Your reward.”
She opened it and saw her favorite. “You made me brownies?”
“I did.”
Tender, she tilted her head. She’d mentioned that to him once. The first time they’d gone into the village. Once, and he had remembered it. “Thank you, Jackson.” Biting into the brownie, she murmured. “Oh, that’s good.”
“Glad you like it.”
He had no idea. “Jackson, I’m a connoisseur on brownies. Wine? What I know about it would fill a thimble. But I know brownies. They’re my turf.”
“So how do mine stack up against the competition?”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, be totally honest,” he said. “I’ve been perfecting the recipe for a while now.”
This was important to him. “How long a while?”
“Two years, so far.” He flipped a hand waving the questions away. “Just tell me how you like it—and no sparing my feelings.”
“Straight up,” she said, “these are the best brownies I’ve ever had in my mouth. On five continents, bar none.”
“Score.” He smiled. “I’m seriously thinking about marketing them.”
“You definitely should. I could probably keep you in business all by myself. Course I’d weigh nine hundred pounds and exist in a permanent diabetic coma, but it’d mostly be worth it.”
“We really need to have a serious talk about your health habits. Here you are doing everything you can to make me fall in love with you and I know better than to let myself do it.”
“Why?” Who knew what tangent he’d zoom off on now?
“You don’t eat right, you don’t exercise—hooked up with you, I’d be a widower really young.” He frowned at her. “For the record, I think I’d be ticked-off if you died and left me, Christine.”
“Well, I guess after all I’ve already cost you, that would be an awful thing to do—to make you a really young widower, I mean.”
“Glad you agree. We’ll work on it all together. I could do more myself on that front.” He tilted his head. “So what’s on your top-ten list of things to do in your life?”
“I’ll answer, but you have to answer, too.”
“Why not? We have until dawn.”
They did. And they both knew they’d talk until the very last minute before sunrise.
At dusk, the committee broke discussions for the second night and Miss Emily and Lester disappeared.
“Where are they off to in such a hurry?” Rose asked Mr. Jenkins.
He cleared his throat. The entire household was upended and edgy due to this business with Christine and Jackson. “I couldn’t say for sure.”
“But you have your suspicions,” Matthew suggested. Rose elbowed him, and he rubbed his ribs. “What? He does have suspicions. Look at his face.”
Mr. Jenkins lowered his voice. “If one wanted to find out, I’d suggest one begin looking on cottage row.”
“Cottage row?” Rose gasped. “That’s where Jackson and Christine are sequestered, isn’t it?”
“Why, yes, Rose.” Mr. Jenkins nodded. “I believe it is.”
He knew darned well it was. “Where’s Darby?”
“I can’t say.”
She was on cottage row, too.
“Is everyone there?” Matthew asked before Rose could.
“Is everyone where?” Mr. Jenkins gave Matthew a blank look. “I have no idea what either of you are talking about.”
“Come on, Matthew.” Rose headed for the door. “Hurry.”
Mr. Jenkins opened it just in time. They headed toward the footbridge in a full run.
Satisfied, Mr. Jenkins watched them go. He should man the manor house while the others were gone… He should, but he wanted to see what was going on for himself. “Oh, why not?”
Mr. Jenkins walked out the door, then eased it shut.
Rose stopped three cottages down from Christine’s. “Matthew, look.” Rose stared at the dozens of lawn chairs lined up across the front yard between Jackson and Christine’s cottages. Right in the center of them sat Miss Emily and Lester. A huge bowl of popcorn rested in her lap.
“Miss Emily?” Rose moved around to look at her. “What are y’all doing out here?”
“Shhhh!”
Half the people seated shushed Rose at once.
Miss Emily motioned for Rose and Matthew to sit down.
They dropped onto the lawn. “Why are we out here?” Rose asked again in a whisper.
“We’re watching.”
Lester nodded. “It’s like our own personal movie at an open-air theater.”
“What are we watching?” Rose craned her neck but couldn’t see much beyond the lawn chairs in front of her and the lush tree limbs beyond them.
“Wait. Any second now,” Lester said.
A creak filled the air.
The whispers ceased. “Here we go. Weeee!” Miss Emily grinned.
Rose felt as confused as Matthew looked.
A tomato went flying from Christine’s window to Jackson’s. It splatted against the glass.
His window shot up. “Did you really just throw a tomato at my window?”
“I didn’t want to break the glass,” she said. “I ran out of walnuts last night.”
“Well, I can’t throw those back. I ate them.”
“Did you make popcorn?” Christine sniffed the air.
“No, why?”
“I smell popcorn.”
“Probably the kid next door,” Jackson said. “Half the people around don’t bother with air-conditioning.”
“I don’t know how they can stand the heat. Even at night, it’s just plain hot.”
“It’s all in what you’re used to,” Jackson said. “The trees help shade.”
They helped conceal, too. Long, thick limbs, lush leaves provided a barrier. From their perspective, Christine and Jackson couldn’t see their audience. But, when the breeze stirred the limbs, the audience could catch glimpses of them. It was a cross between gathering around the radio to listen to the broadcast and an outdoor play.
Miss Emily and a slew of others, munching on corn kernels from big paper buckets, let out a collective sigh.
“Jackson, I’ve been thinking.”
Muffled groans surrounded Rose. “What’s wrong with that?” Rose whispered to Miss Emily.
A woman from the village store answered. “Every time Christine says that, you need to worry.”
“What’s she talking about?”
Miss Emily answered. “It’s a tell for our Christine,” she explained. “If you’d been here last night, you’d understand.”
Rose had no clue what Miss Emily had meant, and no clue anyone had been out here, eavesdropping last night. “You were all here then, too?”
“There weren’t as many of us,” Lester said. “But word’s gotten around. By tomorrow night, I expect we’ll be spilling into the street.”
This was their entertainment? Rose shot Matthew a quizzical look that he responded to with a half-hearted shrug.
“What are you thinking?” Jackson asked Christine.
“I knew he’d ask. I just knew it.” The woman beside Rose nudged her. “He’s a dream, that one.”
Christine hesitated, but finally answered. “If they’re going to kill us, maybe we should at least try to get away.”
“Don’t even go there, Christine,” he said. “I love these people and this place. I’ve already hurt them enough. If they want me dead, I’ll be dead, but I won’t betray them again.”
“That’s… noble,” she said. “Nuts, but noble.” A pause, then she added. “I think if I were dead, I’d still miss you, Jackson.”
“I know I’d miss you.” He grunted. “You’re a chef’s dream. You love food and you aren’t afraid to show it.”
“Is that the only reason you’d miss me?” she asked.
Rose was stunned. The militant woman who’d so bravely taken on Martin and his thugs sounded soft and vulnerable. Almost fragile. Of course, she thought the odds were high she was going to die. Rose well knew, unfortunately from personal experience, how vulnerable that could make one feel. Lost… Helpless. Hopeless.
“Of course not.” Jackson pulled out the rope. “You ready?”
“I am.”
He tossed it and they quickly set up the pulley system between their windows.
“What’s that for?” Rose asked.
“He sends her food on it,” Lester whispered.
“Chinese last night,” a woman Rose didn’t recognize said. “I can’t wait to see what he’s cooked her tonight. Been wondering what it’d be all day.”
Lester and half the rest of the people sitting on the lawn sniffed.
“Mexican.”
“Tai.”
“No, it’s Mexican,” Lester said. “I got a five that says it’s Mexican. Any takers?”
“I’ll take that bet.”
They waited for official word.
“Mexican,” Jackson finally said. “Enchiladas, refried beans and my version of the amazingly sinful burrito—all calories removed, of course.”
“You’re so thoughtful.” Christine laughed.
“Smells really good,” Matthew mumbled.
“Wish I had the recipe.” A woman tapped on Rose’s shoulder. “Down the road sometime, will you get the recipe for me?”
“Sure.”
“Shhh!”
Rose rolled her eyes. Jackson and Christine ate and chatted. “So,” Rose whispered to Miss Emily, “why are we out here watching them like we’re at the movies?”
“To see what they’re saying, of course.”
“Of course.” Rose looked at Matthew and hiked a shoulder. “I have no idea why.”
“Entertainment?” he suggested.
Lester let out a huff. “We’re watching them fall in love. Now if you two don’t hush, we’re going to have to ask to you to leave the show.”
The show? Whoa! Rose’s eyes stretched wide. “Jackson’s falling in love?”
“Where you been, girl?” Lester groaned. “Jackson’s been in love.”
Stunned, Rose looked at Miss Emily, who nodded her agreement. “He just don’t know it yet.”
“You’re kidding me.” Rose couldn’t believe it. Finally, Jackson had found his the one?
“It’s all right, hon. Don’t fret,” Miss Emily said. “Christine don’t know it yet, either.”
“But we all do.” Lester grinned.
“Yeah.” Miss Emily let out a shuddery, wistful sigh. “I sure hope we don’t have to kill them.” She took a bite of popcorn.
Lester worried at his lower lip. “At least, not before they figure it out.”
Rose’s jaw fell open. She looked at Matthew. “Are they serious?” She mouthed the words for fear of being drop-kicked off the lawn.
He nodded and mouthed back, “I’m afraid so.”
“Last night, we did bucket lists and things we love,” Christine told Jackson.
“And hate,” Jackson interjected.
“That’s right. We did things we hate, too.” She paused to chew. “Tonight, let’s do fun things.”
“Um, that’s a little problematic for me,” Jackson said. “I haven’t had a whole lot of time for fun things.”
“Me, either. I’ve been too busy trying to find my feet. Developing software is extremely competitive. Everything changes so fast.” Christine paused, then added, “Being at the Park already had made me think about that, but our current… uncertainty… has me thinking it’s a huge mistake to tell myself there’s always tomorrow and later. We might not have either.”
“I wouldn’t bet a nickel either way,” he said. “I’m guilty of tomorrow and later, too—and of after.”
“After?”
“Yeah, you know. I’ll get to that after I get out of my apartment and into a house. Or after I get my brownie recipe perfected and my product onto the market.”
“There is nothing that needs doing to your brownies, Jackson. I told you, I’ve eaten brownies across five continents. Yours are as perfect as they can get this side of heaven.”
“Five continents, eh? Wow, thanks.” He sounded moved by the compliment. “Now that I think about it, maybe doing fun things has nothing to do with tomorrow or later or after and everything to do with us feeling like we don’t deserve to have fun.”
“Bingo,” Miss Emily whispered.
Lester hushed her with a hand to her forearm.
Rose’s heart felt squeezed. Why would Jackson feel he didn’t deserve to have fun?
“Maybe so,” Christine said. “After my parents died, I thought I really had to do something stellar with my life or I’d be letting them down.”
“You had to be their legacy,” Jackson said. “I’ve always felt that way about Rose. She made a lot of sacrifices for me—to give me a decent life, I mean. I’m ashamed to say it, but then I didn’t realize how many. Looking back, I know there were times she went to bed hungry to feed me.” His voice choked. He cleared his throat. “I know she did.”
“She’s oldest, and she loves you, Jackson,” Christine said. “It’s like with me and Caro—though I’m just a few minutes older and Rose has a couple years on you. Still, when it was just us against the world… there’s nothing I wouldn’t have done for her, and I’m sure Rose felt the same about you. Probably still does. She wants the best for you—even if that means she has to do without.”
Rose couldn’t stop the tears filling her eyes from spilling. Matthew eased an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to his side.
“I know,” Jackson said. “Who can take time for fun when someone they love has done that for them. Every minute has to count. You have to be worth it.”
“Mmm,” Christine paused. “So they don’t regret their sacrifices?”
“Well, yeah.”
“I can’t speak for Rose, but I don’t want Caroline feeling like that. I want her to smell every rose in life and all their leaves and stems. I want her to know I think she’s worth it.” Christine halted. “Oh, Jackson. Oh, no.”
“What?”
“I did the same thing.” She sounded horrified.
Everyone in the chairs and seated on the ground, including Rose, leaned forward, riveted to Christine in her window and Jackson in his, shifting to see between the limbs and leaves semi-blocking their view.
“What same thing?” Jackson asked.
“I really am sorry.”
“I know, honey. Me, too.”
“What are you sorry for?” she asked. “All you did was help a desperate woman find safety and try to protect another you thought had lost her mind. Well, her memory.”
“I’d like the chance to see where things go for us,” he admitted. “I think it could be… special. I know for fact it’s rare.”
“Me, too.” She straightened. “I’m not going to give up on us. I’m just not. After all we’ve been through, we deserve a chance—and that’s just what I’m going to tell that committee.”
“Um, I don’t think we’ll get to do much telling. I think we’ll be mostly listening.”
“Then I’ll hope for that, too.” She fell silent and stared at the sky. “The sun will be coming up soon.”
“We’d better call it a night then. See you at sundown?” he asked.
She smiled. “Your window or mine?”
“Uh, both.”
“Works for me. Sundown, then.”
Chapter 29
At sundown, Christine heard something ping at the window.
She rushed around the little table, went to the window, and opened it wide. “Hi.” Just looking at him left her breathless.
He held a rope in his hand. “Catch the end of this.” He tossed the rope to her. Something heavy and metal slid off and landed on her foot. “Ouch!”
“Sorry,” he said. “It’s a pulley. Put it back on the rope.”
“Why?”
“So I can send you over some food.” He told her how to rig the ropes and then attached a heavy pillowcase. “Pull.”
She fed the rope, hand over hand, until she could reach the pillowcase. “Hey, take-out! This is awesome, Jackson.”
He laughed. “I figure your body has had all the junk food it can take.”
“I am about out of peanut butter.”
He scrunched his face, twisting his lips.
“So what’s in here?” She peeked inside the white case.
“Chinese.” He shrugged. “I had a lot of time on my hands and little to do, so I cooked.”
“I love Chinese.” She smiled and inhaled. “Sesame chicken, spring rolls, fried rice and vegetables. It’s the mother-lode!”
He laughed deeper. “No fortune cookie. Sorry.”
“Would it be rude to eat while we talk?” She was starved.
“No, I waited for you, so we could eat together.”
By moonlight instead of candlelight, they had an intimate dinner. He, in his window, and she in hers. And they shared good conversation. Life, death and the universe conversation about things that matter. And about little, everyday nothings that didn’t matter at all.
“Jackson, I’m surprised you haven’t been snatched up by a dozen women. You cook, you understand people and what’s important in life, and you have a great sense of humor and a huge heart.”
He blushed a little and a reluctant smile curved his lips. “If you keep this up, I’m going to have a big head, too.”
“Facts don’t inflate the ego. Just flattery. I don’t do flattery.” She grinned. “Did you make dessert?”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether or not you’ll share that bottle of wine I saw in your fridge.”
“Of course, I will.” She set her plate aside and crawled down from the window. On retrieving the wine from the fridge, she sent it to him in the pillowcase over the rope pulley. “There you go.”
“I need the corkscrew.”
“I’ll have to find one. Send the case back.” She rummaged through three drawers and then located it. Back at the window, she slipped it into the waiting case then sent it to him.
“Thanks.” He brought the case inside his window so she couldn’t see what he was putting inside, then attached it to the rope and sent the case back to her. “Your reward.”
She opened it and saw her favorite. “You made me brownies?”
“I did.”
Tender, she tilted her head. She’d mentioned that to him once. The first time they’d gone into the village. Once, and he had remembered it. “Thank you, Jackson.” Biting into the brownie, she murmured. “Oh, that’s good.”
“Glad you like it.”
He had no idea. “Jackson, I’m a connoisseur on brownies. Wine? What I know about it would fill a thimble. But I know brownies. They’re my turf.”
“So how do mine stack up against the competition?”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, be totally honest,” he said. “I’ve been perfecting the recipe for a while now.”
This was important to him. “How long a while?”
“Two years, so far.” He flipped a hand waving the questions away. “Just tell me how you like it—and no sparing my feelings.”
“Straight up,” she said, “these are the best brownies I’ve ever had in my mouth. On five continents, bar none.”
“Score.” He smiled. “I’m seriously thinking about marketing them.”
“You definitely should. I could probably keep you in business all by myself. Course I’d weigh nine hundred pounds and exist in a permanent diabetic coma, but it’d mostly be worth it.”
“We really need to have a serious talk about your health habits. Here you are doing everything you can to make me fall in love with you and I know better than to let myself do it.”
“Why?” Who knew what tangent he’d zoom off on now?
“You don’t eat right, you don’t exercise—hooked up with you, I’d be a widower really young.” He frowned at her. “For the record, I think I’d be ticked-off if you died and left me, Christine.”
“Well, I guess after all I’ve already cost you, that would be an awful thing to do—to make you a really young widower, I mean.”
“Glad you agree. We’ll work on it all together. I could do more myself on that front.” He tilted his head. “So what’s on your top-ten list of things to do in your life?”
“I’ll answer, but you have to answer, too.”
“Why not? We have until dawn.”
They did. And they both knew they’d talk until the very last minute before sunrise.
At dusk, the committee broke discussions for the second night and Miss Emily and Lester disappeared.
“Where are they off to in such a hurry?” Rose asked Mr. Jenkins.
He cleared his throat. The entire household was upended and edgy due to this business with Christine and Jackson. “I couldn’t say for sure.”
“But you have your suspicions,” Matthew suggested. Rose elbowed him, and he rubbed his ribs. “What? He does have suspicions. Look at his face.”
Mr. Jenkins lowered his voice. “If one wanted to find out, I’d suggest one begin looking on cottage row.”
“Cottage row?” Rose gasped. “That’s where Jackson and Christine are sequestered, isn’t it?”
“Why, yes, Rose.” Mr. Jenkins nodded. “I believe it is.”
He knew darned well it was. “Where’s Darby?”
“I can’t say.”
She was on cottage row, too.
“Is everyone there?” Matthew asked before Rose could.
“Is everyone where?” Mr. Jenkins gave Matthew a blank look. “I have no idea what either of you are talking about.”
“Come on, Matthew.” Rose headed for the door. “Hurry.”
Mr. Jenkins opened it just in time. They headed toward the footbridge in a full run.
Satisfied, Mr. Jenkins watched them go. He should man the manor house while the others were gone… He should, but he wanted to see what was going on for himself. “Oh, why not?”
Mr. Jenkins walked out the door, then eased it shut.
Rose stopped three cottages down from Christine’s. “Matthew, look.” Rose stared at the dozens of lawn chairs lined up across the front yard between Jackson and Christine’s cottages. Right in the center of them sat Miss Emily and Lester. A huge bowl of popcorn rested in her lap.
“Miss Emily?” Rose moved around to look at her. “What are y’all doing out here?”
“Shhhh!”
Half the people seated shushed Rose at once.
Miss Emily motioned for Rose and Matthew to sit down.
They dropped onto the lawn. “Why are we out here?” Rose asked again in a whisper.
“We’re watching.”
Lester nodded. “It’s like our own personal movie at an open-air theater.”
“What are we watching?” Rose craned her neck but couldn’t see much beyond the lawn chairs in front of her and the lush tree limbs beyond them.
“Wait. Any second now,” Lester said.
A creak filled the air.
The whispers ceased. “Here we go. Weeee!” Miss Emily grinned.
Rose felt as confused as Matthew looked.
A tomato went flying from Christine’s window to Jackson’s. It splatted against the glass.
His window shot up. “Did you really just throw a tomato at my window?”
“I didn’t want to break the glass,” she said. “I ran out of walnuts last night.”
“Well, I can’t throw those back. I ate them.”
“Did you make popcorn?” Christine sniffed the air.
“No, why?”
“I smell popcorn.”
“Probably the kid next door,” Jackson said. “Half the people around don’t bother with air-conditioning.”
“I don’t know how they can stand the heat. Even at night, it’s just plain hot.”
“It’s all in what you’re used to,” Jackson said. “The trees help shade.”
They helped conceal, too. Long, thick limbs, lush leaves provided a barrier. From their perspective, Christine and Jackson couldn’t see their audience. But, when the breeze stirred the limbs, the audience could catch glimpses of them. It was a cross between gathering around the radio to listen to the broadcast and an outdoor play.
Miss Emily and a slew of others, munching on corn kernels from big paper buckets, let out a collective sigh.
“Jackson, I’ve been thinking.”
Muffled groans surrounded Rose. “What’s wrong with that?” Rose whispered to Miss Emily.
A woman from the village store answered. “Every time Christine says that, you need to worry.”
“What’s she talking about?”
Miss Emily answered. “It’s a tell for our Christine,” she explained. “If you’d been here last night, you’d understand.”
Rose had no clue what Miss Emily had meant, and no clue anyone had been out here, eavesdropping last night. “You were all here then, too?”
“There weren’t as many of us,” Lester said. “But word’s gotten around. By tomorrow night, I expect we’ll be spilling into the street.”
This was their entertainment? Rose shot Matthew a quizzical look that he responded to with a half-hearted shrug.
“What are you thinking?” Jackson asked Christine.
“I knew he’d ask. I just knew it.” The woman beside Rose nudged her. “He’s a dream, that one.”
Christine hesitated, but finally answered. “If they’re going to kill us, maybe we should at least try to get away.”
“Don’t even go there, Christine,” he said. “I love these people and this place. I’ve already hurt them enough. If they want me dead, I’ll be dead, but I won’t betray them again.”
“That’s… noble,” she said. “Nuts, but noble.” A pause, then she added. “I think if I were dead, I’d still miss you, Jackson.”
“I know I’d miss you.” He grunted. “You’re a chef’s dream. You love food and you aren’t afraid to show it.”
“Is that the only reason you’d miss me?” she asked.
Rose was stunned. The militant woman who’d so bravely taken on Martin and his thugs sounded soft and vulnerable. Almost fragile. Of course, she thought the odds were high she was going to die. Rose well knew, unfortunately from personal experience, how vulnerable that could make one feel. Lost… Helpless. Hopeless.
“Of course not.” Jackson pulled out the rope. “You ready?”
“I am.”
He tossed it and they quickly set up the pulley system between their windows.
“What’s that for?” Rose asked.
“He sends her food on it,” Lester whispered.
“Chinese last night,” a woman Rose didn’t recognize said. “I can’t wait to see what he’s cooked her tonight. Been wondering what it’d be all day.”
Lester and half the rest of the people sitting on the lawn sniffed.
“Mexican.”
“Tai.”
“No, it’s Mexican,” Lester said. “I got a five that says it’s Mexican. Any takers?”
“I’ll take that bet.”
They waited for official word.
“Mexican,” Jackson finally said. “Enchiladas, refried beans and my version of the amazingly sinful burrito—all calories removed, of course.”
“You’re so thoughtful.” Christine laughed.
“Smells really good,” Matthew mumbled.
“Wish I had the recipe.” A woman tapped on Rose’s shoulder. “Down the road sometime, will you get the recipe for me?”
“Sure.”
“Shhh!”
Rose rolled her eyes. Jackson and Christine ate and chatted. “So,” Rose whispered to Miss Emily, “why are we out here watching them like we’re at the movies?”
“To see what they’re saying, of course.”
“Of course.” Rose looked at Matthew and hiked a shoulder. “I have no idea why.”
“Entertainment?” he suggested.
Lester let out a huff. “We’re watching them fall in love. Now if you two don’t hush, we’re going to have to ask to you to leave the show.”
The show? Whoa! Rose’s eyes stretched wide. “Jackson’s falling in love?”
“Where you been, girl?” Lester groaned. “Jackson’s been in love.”
Stunned, Rose looked at Miss Emily, who nodded her agreement. “He just don’t know it yet.”
“You’re kidding me.” Rose couldn’t believe it. Finally, Jackson had found his the one?
“It’s all right, hon. Don’t fret,” Miss Emily said. “Christine don’t know it yet, either.”
“But we all do.” Lester grinned.
“Yeah.” Miss Emily let out a shuddery, wistful sigh. “I sure hope we don’t have to kill them.” She took a bite of popcorn.
Lester worried at his lower lip. “At least, not before they figure it out.”
Rose’s jaw fell open. She looked at Matthew. “Are they serious?” She mouthed the words for fear of being drop-kicked off the lawn.
He nodded and mouthed back, “I’m afraid so.”
“Last night, we did bucket lists and things we love,” Christine told Jackson.
“And hate,” Jackson interjected.
“That’s right. We did things we hate, too.” She paused to chew. “Tonight, let’s do fun things.”
“Um, that’s a little problematic for me,” Jackson said. “I haven’t had a whole lot of time for fun things.”
“Me, either. I’ve been too busy trying to find my feet. Developing software is extremely competitive. Everything changes so fast.” Christine paused, then added, “Being at the Park already had made me think about that, but our current… uncertainty… has me thinking it’s a huge mistake to tell myself there’s always tomorrow and later. We might not have either.”
“I wouldn’t bet a nickel either way,” he said. “I’m guilty of tomorrow and later, too—and of after.”
“After?”
“Yeah, you know. I’ll get to that after I get out of my apartment and into a house. Or after I get my brownie recipe perfected and my product onto the market.”
“There is nothing that needs doing to your brownies, Jackson. I told you, I’ve eaten brownies across five continents. Yours are as perfect as they can get this side of heaven.”
“Five continents, eh? Wow, thanks.” He sounded moved by the compliment. “Now that I think about it, maybe doing fun things has nothing to do with tomorrow or later or after and everything to do with us feeling like we don’t deserve to have fun.”
“Bingo,” Miss Emily whispered.
Lester hushed her with a hand to her forearm.
Rose’s heart felt squeezed. Why would Jackson feel he didn’t deserve to have fun?
“Maybe so,” Christine said. “After my parents died, I thought I really had to do something stellar with my life or I’d be letting them down.”
“You had to be their legacy,” Jackson said. “I’ve always felt that way about Rose. She made a lot of sacrifices for me—to give me a decent life, I mean. I’m ashamed to say it, but then I didn’t realize how many. Looking back, I know there were times she went to bed hungry to feed me.” His voice choked. He cleared his throat. “I know she did.”
“She’s oldest, and she loves you, Jackson,” Christine said. “It’s like with me and Caro—though I’m just a few minutes older and Rose has a couple years on you. Still, when it was just us against the world… there’s nothing I wouldn’t have done for her, and I’m sure Rose felt the same about you. Probably still does. She wants the best for you—even if that means she has to do without.”
Rose couldn’t stop the tears filling her eyes from spilling. Matthew eased an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close to his side.
“I know,” Jackson said. “Who can take time for fun when someone they love has done that for them. Every minute has to count. You have to be worth it.”
“Mmm,” Christine paused. “So they don’t regret their sacrifices?”
“Well, yeah.”
“I can’t speak for Rose, but I don’t want Caroline feeling like that. I want her to smell every rose in life and all their leaves and stems. I want her to know I think she’s worth it.” Christine halted. “Oh, Jackson. Oh, no.”
“What?”
“I did the same thing.” She sounded horrified.
Everyone in the chairs and seated on the ground, including Rose, leaned forward, riveted to Christine in her window and Jackson in his, shifting to see between the limbs and leaves semi-blocking their view.
“What same thing?” Jackson asked.
