Page 119 of Courage, Dear Heart

He exhales slowly, his gaze softening as he lifts a hand to cover mine. “Promise me you’ll let me know if you need anything. Anything at all.”

“I promise.” My voice is steady. “Ohio is not permanent. I’ve spoken with a real estate agency and I have someone looking for a place for us. Hopefully, I can find something before Jamie’s classes start in September.”

Hope flashes across his face. “You’ll be back for sure, then?”

“I will. No idea what I’ll do, but we’ll be back. Leonora said once the fire department is done with the investigation, the insurance should kick in. I have renter’s insurance. It won’t be much, but it will help.”

“You know you two can stay with me. And Daisy, too. You can have your own space. No strings.”

“Elliott . . .”

He puts his hands up. “No pressure. I know this is a traumatic event for both of you. I know it destroyed the trust you had in me. The only thing I can do is swear to you I had nothing to do with it and do everything in my power to make it right for you and Leonora. I want you and Jamie to have your home back.”

“Even if we do, it won’t be the same.”

“No, but it can be something even better if you allow it.”

I sigh and give him a small measure of trust. “I believe you had nothing to do with the fire. But what if your father did? How can I be with you when there’s a possibility that he’s to blame? How can you live with that possibility?”

He opens his mouth and shuts it. Looks past me, an internal battle playing behind his eyes. “I’m.. .looking into it. I can’t say more than that.”

I nod. “You can’t say more than that. Got it. Looks like we both have choices to make.” My tone is shorter than I intended.

We stand there for a moment, the sounds of the city bustling around us as if my world hasn’t tilted on its axis. His thumb brushes over the back of my hand, and it hits me how much I’ll miss him while I’m away.

“I should get going.” I step back reluctantly, my hand dropping away from him. “I have to meet the fire chief.”

“Be safe, Jillian. And call me. Anytime.”

“I will.” I give him a small wave as I step back and turn to meet Sheila and Jamie waiting a few yards away. But as I go, I glance back over my shoulder. He’s still standing there, and I etch every detail of this moment in my memory, hoping the distance I’m putting between us won’t be the thing that destroys us.

SIXTY-NINE

Jillian

People talkabout going back home after many years as bittersweet. And a part of me can see that. But a greater part can’t find anything sweet about it. I stand at the door of my childhood bedroom. I wish I could say it’s the same as I remember. But it’s not. My mother changed it. The walls are painted a neutral beige instead of the sky blue of my teen years. And the beautiful mural CJ painted for me as a gift for my sixteenth birthday is gone. All the hours he put into it, creating trees and flowers so vivid it felt like I could step through and escape, now covered by desert beige paint or some other similar nonsensical name instead of what it really is. Boring and lifeless.

Everything about me in this room has been erased. My childhood toys, the corkboard from my teen years that was covered in pictures, the dresser and mirror where I learned to do makeup watching YouTube videos, my bed, it’s all gone. Replaced by new furniture.

Two white framed twin beds across fromeach other. The bedcovers in a darker tone of the same beige. A large dresser on the opposite wall. Gone is my bookshelf and all my books. The walls are bare of any art. The white gauze curtain does a poor job of blocking the light coming through the window, making sure we don’t get to sleep past six.

A room devoid of color and life. Is this what she wants for me?

Jamie takes a few steps inside the room, looks around, and wrinkles his nose. His expression says it all.

My mother pushes through behind me and enters the room. “It’s been like this, waiting for you for over two years now. So glad you’re finally home.” She’s so proud of her work.

It hits me then. What she said. Two years? Home? She means that she had this done right after CJ died? Expecting me to come home with Jamie. The two beds are for us to share. Never mind we have two other empty bedrooms in this house. The guest room that no one is allowed in and has never had a guest. And the home office that my father uses once a week to pay bills as they come. Every Monday he’d go in there and sit for hours, working on bills and who knows what else. Probably trying to get away from my mother, too.

Me and my son, confined to the room I grew up in. What did she think would happen? I’d go back home and she could resume her position trying to order me around and control everything I do? Try to do to Jamie the same things she did to me?

I fight the urge to grab my son, turn around, and head straight to the airport. Two weeks. That’s how long I’m staying. How long the fire marshal suggested they’d need to complete the initial investigation. He said that since therewere no fatalities and no one seriously hurt, and no signs of accelerants or arson so far, the investigation should go faster.

Two weeks here and we go back to the city so Jamie can start first grade right after Labor Day. Two weeks for me to figure out what I’m going to do. Even if the building is deemed structurally safe and released back to Leonora, getting insurance payouts, cleaning up, and rebuilding will take months, if not more. And her sons are pressuring her to sell it even more now. I have no idea what I’m going to do. Sheila said I can go back to her apartment. And Elliott offered his home, too. But I can’t stay with either of them. I’ve already gotten job offers from three other flower shops in the neighborhood. It won’t be a match for what I was making before, but I’m grateful for their help. And I can always put my accounting degree to use. I haven’t decided yet. Jamie and finding a stable place for us are my priority. As much as I didn’t want to be here, I think that getting away from the city will be good for Jamie. I hope. I need to plaster a smile on my face and get along with my mother. Two weeks. I can do it.

“Jillian?” My mother’s voice brings me back to the room.

“What?”

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