Page 71 of Every Heartbeat After

“He didn’t tell me anything.” Her hand flattens over her heart. “Thoughouch,you told Mo and not me?”

I grimace. “It wasn’t a planned thing. He caught me at a vulnerable moment.”

“Ah, I see. I can accept that.”

“If Mo didn’t say anything, how did you know?”

When our gazes meet again, there’s a sad crinkle to the edges of her dark brown eyes. Not pity, exactly. More like regret.

“You’ve seemed different this year. And not just because you brought along a guest for the first time since your grandparents passed.” She nods toward Kit, who is now on his feet, giving Mara a self-defense lesson from the looks of it. Or perhaps he just likes to be kicked in the shins. “I don’t know if you’ve realized, but every year you grow more and more subdued. Alex and I were getting very concerned, actually. It was like we could see the light inside you dying out.”

Now it’s my turn to say ouch.

Her hand curls around mine, soft from the cocoa butter lotion she applies religiously. “I don’t mean that to hurt you, Tess. I only say it because lately I’ve been catching more and more glimpses of the old you, in the moments where you forget to be sad.” She tilts her head, catching the fluorescent light from the kitchen on the sharp curve of her delicate jaw. “Where he reminds you how to be happy.”

“I’ve been happy,” I say in an attempt to come to my defense, but the words are so hollow it does the opposite. “Or, I haven’t been sad. I’ve been mostly numb, I guess.”

Her lips thin and she nods her head sympathetically. “I’m not sure that’s better.”

My throat grows dry. I force a painful swallow. “I’m not either.”

“Did you know that I have a baby sister?” Jenna’s looking at Mara with sparkling pride, but there’s a wateriness to it that tells me where this story is going before we’ve even begun the journey. “She was the light of my life. My hero. Most of my friends wanted nothing to do with their little siblings, but I loved Carmen fiercely. We did everything together.

“She died of an undiagnosed heart condition when she was only seventeen. I was away at college. When my mother called, I couldn’t believe her. I’d just seen my sister the day before.” A tear slips down her cheek, but it’s caught by a watery smile. “You see, every Friday after class, I’d drive an hour to meet her at this little diner halfway from my hometown to the college I was attending at the time. It was our tradition. A way for us to stay close, back before cell phones and Facetime and all that.

“After she died, I still made that drive every Friday. It confused Alex when we first got together, because he could never take me out on a Friday night. I’d come home exhausted and weepy and shut myself in with a boxed-up order of her usual that’d never get eaten.”

I picture Jenna at Mara’s age, carrying the burden of grief that I know so well. I’m shocked I never noticed it on her shoulders.

“Part of it was habit. Part of it was my silly attempt to keep her here with me for longer. Even though all it really did was remind me she was gone.” She releases my hand to wipe at her cheeks with the ball of her palm. “When Alex and I got serious about starting the resort, I had to make a decision. I knew it was time. That she’d understand.

“And what a gift it has been. This place that I love so deeply. That she’s very much a part of, even if she’s never seen it. It has brought me immense joy, and I’d have none of that if I’d stayed stuck in that old routine, never allowing myself to move forward.”

I open my mouth, not entirely trusting my voice to be there when I reach for it. “That’s beautiful, Jenna.”

I never once questioned where the resort’s name came from. I guess I assumed it was a grandmother’s name, or maybe Jenna’s middle. Perhaps just a place somewhere that Jenna and Alex loved. But Carmen was someone who mattered, whose life ended too soon. And in creating this place, Jenna has allowed her legacy to be more than just the sum of her years. It’s every memory made here, each trip that became tradition. Her legacy is me and my family. Both the one I’ve lost, and the one I’m realizing I have here, with the Ortizes and even Kit, if only for the time being.

None of that would exist without Carmen. And I tell Jenna exactly that. Seeing her, but also seeing my past and all my possible futures, I smile at Jenna. “Thank you for sharing her with me. With us.”

In the quiet that follows my words, I realize that Kit and Mara have given up on sparring. Mo and Alex are snoozing in their chairs. Kit’s gaze drifts to mine, surprise flitting across his expression, like he hadn’t realized I was watching this entire time. His brow furrows, and I quickly shake my head to let him know I don’t need him quite yet, but I’m sure I will soon enough.

He relents, but the tension remains in his shoulders like he’s ready to come for me the moment I call.

“Moving forward doesn’t mean moving on,” Jenna says.

My brow crumples. “What do you mean?”

“They’ll always be with you, just as my sister is with me.” She squeezes my hand one final time, then lets it go. “And wherever you go in this great, big world, just know that my crazy little family is there with you, too.”

I smile, remembering Mo said something similar that night by the pool. It makes that great, big world a lot less terrifying, when I know there are people somewhere in it who love me. Who are rooting for me.

“Did you ever go back?” I ask because I can’t resist. “To that restaurant?”

She brushes a strand of hair from her cheek with the back of her hand and nods. “Yes. Many, many years later. I wanted Xiomara to meet hertia.” She laughs self-consciously, ducking her chin. “I know that sounds ridiculous, but it felt right at the time.”

Our gazes meet, and I shrug. “Makes perfect sense to me.”

She nods. “I thought it might.”

---