Page 48 of The Sandover Beach Billionaire

Chapter Fifteen

Jenna had feltlike an intruder in Ethel’s house. It was one thing talking with Ethel in the matching living room chairs, and another altogether going inside without them. Especially seeing Bob’s chair turned over along with the tray table next to him. Her stomach dropped.

Had he fallen right here? Or was this from the stretcher and the team of paramedics? Somehow, she didn’t think professionals would be so careless, even in a hurry. There was a dark spot that still looked damp on the rug. Was that blood? Her stomach turned a little, but Jenna found a dish towel in the kitchen and soaked it in cold water, pressing it to the spot. The rag quickly turned pink and her stomach rolled again.

She gave up on the stain, leaving the rag in the washing machine. She needed to get Steve’s number and get to the hospital. When she told Ethel that she didn’t have his number, Ethel said she could find his work and cell on the refrigerator. Sure enough, there was a typed sheet with contact numbers stuck to the fridge with magnets made from seashells. The sight made her suck in her breath. Her mother had a similar one on the side of the fridge that neither she nor Rachel had taken down. Ethel’s sheet looked just like her mom’s: a neatly typed sheet that had been taken over with hand-written notes in various colors of pen.

Steve’s number was third, below Jenna’s mom and Steve’s older brother Jeff. Jenna saved both brothers’ numbers in her phone and started calling as she hurried through the house, turning off lights. His cell rang and rang. Hearing Steve on the voicemail recording made her jaw clench. Where was he and why hadn’t he answered his phone?

“Shoot me a text or something so I know you got this. Or call your mom. I’ll probably see you up at the hospital,” Jenna said before hanging up. She would stay as long as Ethel needed her, but she really hoped she could avoid seeing Steve.

It wasn’t just that he was suddenly unavailable when his parents needed him. Thinking back to the week before when Steve had showed up at her house sent waves of unpleasant feelings through her. A part of her had felt the pull of nostalgia, even as she felt sure she needed to keep herself guarded from him. Though if she had been reading his signals correctly, he might have been tentatively feeling her out for interest. The thought made her shudder. She was with Jackson now.

Wasn’t she?

They had spent most of the last five days together. It felt serious, which should have scared her. Especially with Rachel’s warning popping into her mind every so often. But the more time they spent together, the more Jackson started to feel like a necessary part of her life. Someone she didn’t know if she wanted to live without. And yet, he still hadn’t even asked her to be his girlfriend. Every look, every touch, every kind gesture seemed to indicate how he felt, but he hadn’t put it in words. Even the way he challenged her—albeit gently—about the way she had shut God out, even that spoke volumes about his feelings.

So why hadn’t he said anything? Maybe she had been out of the game too long. She had a terrible track record with men: Steve, Mark, and a handful of guys in college who were hardly memorable. Who’s to say she wasn’t reading all the signs wrong?

And then there was that mysterious phone call on the deck. Had he really been talking to Mercer? She had caught the genuine smile on his face and the way his body hunched, like he was trying to hide from view. When she had stepped onto the deck, Jackson had immediately gotten off the phone. Though she had missed them with Mark, Jenna knew the signs of unfaithfulness. Furtive phone calls? Sign number one. Mercer was young and beautiful and they worked closely together. Maybe their relationship was more than professional. It wouldn’t be the first time Jenna had fallen for a man who had another woman.

Now Jenna’s stomach was in knots. This was exactly why Rachel had warned her about Jackson. It was clear even after a few days that he was completely capable of breaking her heart. Because if she was being honest, she had already given it to him.

Focus. She needed to focus on the task at hand. Feeling like she was violating some kind of code, Jenna went into Ethel and Bob’s room to pack up an overnight bag. Surprisingly, the room had a minimalistic bent. Whereas the rest of the house had gold-framed paintings and upholstery and drapes, the bedroom had a simple white duvet, wooden plantation shutters on the windows with only gauzy white curtains, and a classic Oriental rug as the only real pop of color or richness.

Jenna grabbed a quilted bag in Ethel’s closet and packed up a pair of soft gray pajamas, two pairs of underwear, a few shirts, a cardigan, and a small, matching toiletry bag that she found in the bathroom, already packed with a small bottle of lotion, a lipstick, and toothpaste. Before she left, she grabbed the book that sat on Ethel’s bedside table, a cozy mystery with a cat on the front.

She tried Steve’s work number as she jogged to her car. Seeing Jackson lock up her front door, Jenna’s storm of emotion rose to the surface. He seemed like he belonged there—on the front porch of her childhood home with a key in hand. She wanted him there. Not at this house, but wherever home was. The realization sent a sharp wave of panic through her and she practically sprinted to the car, giving him a brief wave. Later. They could work this out later. She could ask him about the phone call, maybe press him for how he felt about her. No, that felt needy and desperate.

It took ten minutes to get to the new hospital. Well, new to Jenna. As of ten years before, you would have had to go by ambulance to the mainland. Now there was a very out-of-place, shiny glass box of a hospital on the main causeway, six miles south of her neighborhood. On Islanders referred to it as the Cube.

It wasn’t hard to find Ethel and Bob, and Jenna had no trouble getting back to see them. Walking through the whishing automatic doors, Jenna was hit suddenly with the loss of her mother and it almost took her breath away.

For her mother, there had been no worried hospital visits. No late nights. No talks with doctors or slow decline. No warning at all. Jenna had talked to her mom just a few days before she died—a totally normal phone call. Nothing special. After hearing the news, Jenna replayed that conversation over and over again in her mind, trying to remember if she had said “I love you” before hanging up.

When she was just a girl, her mother had spent weeks before Jenna’s grandmother passed in the hospital. Her father made frozen dinners for Rachel and Jenna, barely holding down the fort. A few times he drove them up to the county hospital Off Island where her mom had a makeshift bed set up on the plastic-y couch. Her grandmother looked terrifying, like a shell of a woman, her eyes always closed, mouth always open. She remembered her mom massaging lotion into Jenna’s grandmother’s skin and applying balm to her cracked lips.

Though she felt relieved that she hadn’t had to watch her mother waste away, Jenna felt somehow robbed that she didn’t have the opportunity to care for her mother the same way. To rub lotion on her elbows, to hold a straw to her lips with water, to read books to her, even as she slept. Jenna did not think of herself as a natural caregiver, but she would have been for her mom. She would have loved that job.

Before walking into Bob’s room, Jenna waited in the hallway until she felt like she could talk without tears spilling over her cheeks. Between worries about Jackson, frustration with Steve, and the ache of missing her Mom, Jenna’s emotions threatened to unravel her.

“He’s asleep,” Ethel said as Jenna gave her a hug. In this setting, Ethel looked much older and frailer. Bob, too, hooked up to machines monitoring all the normal things.

“What do they think happened? Is he okay?”

Ethel sighed. “Nothing’s broken, but he had a nasty cut on the back of his head. They stitched that up and are waiting for an MRI in the morning. I guess they can’t be that concerned if they’re not doing it tonight.”

That or they didn’t have the facilities or ability to do it now, Jenna thought. “I saw the blood on the rug. I did my best to put water on it, but it’s probably going to stain.”

Ethel waved a hand. “A rug is a rug.”

Jenna handed her the duffle bag she had packed. “I brought this for you.”

“Oh, you are such a dear. Thank you. I’m stuck here since I rode with the ambulance.”

“I’m sure we can get your car up here, or I can drive you home and let you bring it back tomorrow or something.”

“Steve can probably help. Did you get ahold of him?”

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