Page 58 of Courage, Dear Heart

Jillian raises a fist up in the air. “Down with the patriarchy.”

TWENTY-NINE

Jillian

I can’t believeI’m doing this. Or how fast the weeks sped by. And how used I grew to seeing Elliott multiple times a week, talking to him, texting every day, going on very innocent lunch dates.

He’s giving me time to get to know him on my terms, and I’m grateful for that. I can’t imagine that many men would be as patient as him.

I gasp as we come around a bend and clear the tall evergreen trees. The view is breathtaking. The sun burns low in the sky, casting a golden and pink glow on the ranch as we pull up to the main house. Everywhere I look there’s intense color. Wildflowers grow untamed among the rocks and foliage, made to look like it was created by nature and not the expert hands of a landscaper. Dots of red, yellow, orange, and violet pop among the vivid green of grasses and bushes. I wish I had the artistic skills of CJ so I could replicate all the colors in a painting. I can almost hear his voice, whispering the colors he’d select to capture each shade and hue.

The car comes to a stop as Elliott parks in front of the large log home. It looks like something you’d see on a ski resort. Huge windows reflect the setting sun, a porch wraps around the front, and rocking chairs wait with a silent invitation to take a seat and unload my troubles.

I open my door, and Jamie follows my lead and runs around the bumper to take my hand. His eyes wide as he takes everything in, a huge smile on his face. This is good. I made the right choice in accepting Elliott’s invitation. Jamie will love this place. Who am I kidding? I’ll love this place too. Already do.

I inhale deeply, taking in the scent of freshly cut grass, wildflowers, growing things, and other scents I can’t quite name. The call of birds and the rustle of wind through the trees complete this postcard-perfect image.

Elliott grins at me from the other side of his car.

Jamie tugs at my hand, pulling me closer to Elliott.

“This place is beautiful. You only come here for the holidays? Gosh, if this were my home, I’d never leave.”

An older woman coming down the steps leading to the porch waves at us. “That’s exactly how I feel.”

Elliott takes three long strides and embraces the woman, lifting her in a hug. “Grandma. I’ve missed you.”

“Oh, put me down, you big slug.” She smacks his shoulder while laughing. “And introduce me to your friends.”

Elliott sets her down, and with his arm still around her shoulder, gestures to me and Jamie. “Grandma, this is Jillian and her son, Jamie.”

Through the open doors of the car comes a screech.“Daisy.”

“Oh, my.” His grandma places a hand to her chest. “Who is that?”

“Daisy. Daisy. Daisy.”

Elliott goes back to the car, talking over his shoulder. “It’s the parrot, Grandma. Remember I told you they had a pet parrot?”

I take a step toward his grandmother. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Foster. Daisy hates being left out.”

She takes my hand in both of hers. “Call me Grace, please.”

The name fits her. She’s tall and elegant without trying to be so. Her clothes are simple but expensive-looking. And her hair is snow white and frames her face with perfect layers. She’s beautiful now, even at her age. She must have been a knockout at a younger age.

“Daiiiiiiiiisssssyyyyyyyyy.”

Grace bursts into laughter. “Let’s meet this bird. I have a feeling we’ll get along like chocolate and peanut butter.”

Elliott brings out Daisy in her transport cage. The bigger one is folded in the trunk of his car. “Jillian? Can you take Daisy? I’ll grab the luggage and her crate.”

Daisy tilts her head, taking in the open space and all the trees through the bars of her cage. She circles inside the carrier as if to take the full view and then flaps her wings in excitement.“Daisy happy.”

Grace peers into the cage. “Oh, my. What a smart bird you are, Daisy.” She takes the cage. “I’ll take her inside. Follow me. I have the perfect place for her.”

I grab my purse from the car, and Jamie signs that he’ll stay with Elliott. There’s no hesitation in his steps as he walks around the car to meet Elliott at thetrunk. I watch as Jamie holds his left hand out, palm up, and places his fisted right hand on top, his thumb up. The sign for help. My heart squeezes with some unnamed emotion. My little boy is growing up.

Elliott grabs Jamie’s backpack and the small carry-on Jamie insisted on packing himself. “Yes, you can help me, Jamie. Thank you.”

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