Page 122 of The Attic on Queen Street
A great roar arose from the gathered crowd at the sound of a window smashing. The roar was quickly replaced with loud applause. We turned to watch as Beau threw a chair through the large library bay window, then carried Nola through it, pivoting on the windowsill before jumping down with her in his arms.
We ran toward them, the crowd parting. Then we showered both Nola and Beau with indiscriminate hugs and kisses, and I knew that, with the exception of my wedding day and the day the twins were born, this was undoubtedly the happiest day of my life.
CHAPTER 34
It was nearly five in the morning when we returned home from the hospital with Nola, who was remarkably unscathed despite her ordeal. I imagined that healing mentally would take longer and probably require professional help, but for now she was safe and sound and tucked in her own bed.
We had all thankfully suffered few effects from the smoke. Unfortunately for Nola, this gave Jack a clear enough head to begin working on a very long and very arduous punishment that meant no friends, no phone, and no free time. Not that she didn’t deserve it, but I felt the need to mitigate some of it. At points in every parent’s career, it’s necessary to take turns being either the mean parent or the nice parent, and I was choosing now to play nice. We had come so close to losing her, and my gratitude at having her back made me never want to let her out of my sight again.
The whole ride back from the hospital, she’d been complaining about the loss of her guitar and how if Beau had just waited a little longer, she could have saved it. Her reasoning was completely irrational, but we were oddly reassured that she was going to be fine.
We stood in Nola’s bedroom watching her sleep, and I wasn’tplanning on leaving until she awoke. I kept touching her, as if to make sure she wasn’t missing any parts, until Jack gently pulled me from the room, afraid I would wake her.
“I’m too wired to sleep right now,” he said, “and I’m thinking you probably are, too. This would be a good time for us to talk. No one else is here, and Nola will most likely sleep all day.”
I already knew what I wanted, and I would have been happy to skip past any discussion and just lay my cards on the table. But that was solidly “old version of Melanie” territory, and we’d come too far for me to slide backward.
“Sure. Can I make you some coffee?”
“Only if it’s decaf. I’m afraid I’ll start flying on my own if I add to the adrenaline still pumping through me. And we’ll both need sleep when it wears off.”
My original look of horror at the word “decaf” was replaced with one of resignation. “I know Mrs.Houlihan keeps her own stash of beans in the pantry. Why don’t you wait for me in the parlor? Just don’t trip over the clock.”
My fingers shook, from either residual shock or nervousness or both, as I went through the motions of grinding beans and making the coffee, using our favorite mugs, which had been decorated by our children. I poured a hefty amount of cream in my coffee, followed by four teaspoons of sugar. I placed it next to Jack’s plain black coffee on a small tray and carried it into the parlor, the mugs clanking together as my hands shook.
Jack took the tray so I could step over the clock, and he set it down on the coffee table. We had both taken a seat on the sofa when Jack popped up again and walked across the room. He picked something up from the floor next to the grandfather clock, and I saw that he was holding Frozen Charlotte’s coffin with as few fingers as he could manage.
“What is this doing here? After her most recent escape, I put her in her little coffin and stuck it in the closet in my office behind a case of copier paper.”
I frowned. “Maybe Evangeline is just pointing out that she tried towarn us that Nola was in danger from the tall man and we didn’t heed her warning?” A shudder went through me as a brief picture of what had happened in the attic flashed through my brain. “I shouldn’t have assumed she was referring to Marc just because he was the easiest candidate—especially after the clock broke his foot. I’m so angry with myself. I’ve been given this gift, and yet I still managed to mess things up. And because of that, we almost lost Nola.”
An unexpected sob rose from my throat, shaking my entire body. Jack placed the small coffin on the coffee table before taking my cup from me and wrapping me in his arms. “Don’t, Mellie. Please don’t. You did nothing wrong. The only person at fault is Michael Farrell. The rest of us would have died if it hadn’t been for you and Jayne.”
“And Beau,” I sobbed.
At some point I would need to dissect what had happened in the attic and Beau’s part in getting us out. But not now. I had more important things to work through first.
“And Beau,” Jack agreed. “But you didn’t mess anything up. You couldn’t. You have never done anything where the motive wasn’t based on the love you have for those around you. You have quirky ways of doing things for sure, but that’s you. And I can’t change it.”
I sat up to look at him, wiping my eyes with the backs of my hands. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you need to delete your ‘new Melanie’ spreadsheet.”
My chest constricted, my heart shrinking. “Why?” I asked, even though I knew. Whether I was the new or old Melanie didn’t matter. He had found the flaw he couldn’t live with.
“Because I shouldn’t expect you to change.”
Anger yanked away my hurt and confusion, propelling me to stand and face Jack. As usual, the words poured out of me before I had a chance to check them. Everything that I’d bottled up over the past months erupted from my mouth uncensored. I no longer cared if it was spoken by the new or old version of me—it simply came from Melanie, the woman I was now.
“You know, Jack, I shouldn’t be the only one trying to change. Youhave to meet me halfway. Because did it ever occur to you that you’re at fault, too? That it’s unrealistic if not downright cruel to believe that all of my insecurities should be banished just because you said you loved me? Maybe I just needed a little more understanding. A little more help. I agree that I need to stop pushing everything unpleasant under the carpet and to confide in you more. But changing my stripes is hard all by myself. Maybe I shouldn’t have to change all of my stripes anyway. Needing to be organized and having an independent nature aren’t things that need to be fixed. They’re not addictions that need to be cured.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but I barely drew a breath before continuing. “And one more thing. You left me because you said you couldn’t trust me because I’d gone off on my own to figure out where those rubies were hidden. Because you had theflu, for crying out loud! But even still, you said it was an issue of trust. Sure, I probably should have let you know what I was doing, and I’ve learned from that. And yet here you are, creating a whole scenario about a missing half of the Hope Diamond with an assumed identity and not telling meanything. Talk about lack of trust. And, sure, I understand that your male ego has been sorely damaged by everything that’s happened in your career. You have nothing to prove to me. You’ve already shown me what love is between a husband and wife and what an amazing father you are. That’s all I have ever needed. I’m just sorry you don’t feel the same way.”
He stared at me without saying anything.
“And, yes, you’re right. I was wr—” I paused, trying to form the unfamiliar word. “I was... wrong to talk to Suzy without telling you. I’m sorry.”
I stood there, my chest heaving, waiting for him to stand and leave. And take my heart with him.
