Page 122 of Courage, Dear Heart

I want to protest and stay behind. Protect her from my father, but her resolute expression tells me she won’t let me stay. As I walk by her, she motions me over. I lean in to hear what she has to say.

“Call your mother. Prepare her.”

I nod and leave the room, the last one out, and make eye contact with my father before I close the door. I don’t say anything, but he understands me all too well. The warning in my gaze is clear. Do anything to hurt her and all this shit will be the least of his problems.

SEVENTY-ONE

Elliott

I ringthe bell with a shaky hand. I have no idea how she’ll receive me. If at all. She may shut the door in my face as soon as she sees me. I’ve prepared myself for it. But I’m not giving up that easily.

Someone’s shadow is visible through the glass insert on the door. I take a few steps back, give whoever is coming space.

When the door opens, a woman I don’t recognize stands there, impeccably dressed, full makeup and hair done like she’s going to church or a business meeting. But I know Jillian’s mother is retired, and it’s not Sunday.

“Yes, how may I help you?” Her voice is polite but cold.

I swallow. “Mrs. Heart?”

She holds the door as if ready to shut it on me. “That’s my name.”

“Is Jillian here?”

Her face turns even more austere. “Who are you?”

The sound of running steps comes from inside the house and the door is yanked open from her grasp.

“Jamie!” she calls after him as he bursts through and runs to me.

I lower myself and catch him mid-leap. His little arms go around my neck and squeeze, and I lift him in my arms. “Hey, buddy. I missed you.”

“Jamie!” she yells again. Not a hint of warmth comes from her. “Put that child down right now.”

I don’t. I hug him tighter and face her.

“Mom? Jamie? What’s going on?” Jillian’s voice comes from somewhere inside, and a moment later, she, too, is at the door.

She’s a vision. I drink her in, wanting to capture this moment forever. She’s the complete opposite of her mother in her pink T-shirt with the wordsGardening is my superpower, the cotton shorts, and her bare feet.

Her eyes widen and her mouth drops open. “Elliott?”

Her mother clears her throat. “Jillian, who is this man? And why is he holding your child?”

We stare at each other—me holding Jamie still, his little hands fisted on my shirt as if afraid to let go—and her, with trembling lips and misty eyes.

“Jillian!” Her mother’s voice is shrill.

Jillian drags her gaze away from me to look at her mother. “This is Elliott, a friend from New York.”

Friend.The word hurts, but what did I expect? At least the door is still open. “Can we talk?”

“Yeah, sure.” She steps back and motions me to follow her.

Her mother steps in the way and faces Jillian. “Excuse me, I haven’t given you permission to invite strangers intomyhouse.”

Jillian looks at her for a long moment, puts a finger up for me to wait, and disappears inside the house with her mother calling after her.

A minute later, she’s back, wearing flip-flops and carrying a small purse. Her mother follows, still calling, her voice getting louder and louder until Jillian shuts the door in her face, takes Jamie from me, and walks down the steps.

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