Page 56 of The Space He Left
"What about Emma's father? Is he involved outside of these appointments?"
"He has regular visits. He's very good with her."
Dr. Sanderson made notes in Emma's chart. "That's important for her development. Consistency and reliability from both parents, even when they're not together."
On the drive home, I thought about Dr. Sanderson's words. Consistency and reliability. Jack had been both of those things in his relationship with Emma, even if he'd failed spectacularly at them during the last few months of our marriage.
I was so lost in thought that I almost missed seeing Jack's truck parked outside Willowbrook Market. I pulled into the parking lot and waited.
Through the window, I could see him talking with Mr. Reed at the checkout counter, both men looking serious. As I watched, Mr. Reed handed Jack what looked like a receipt, and Jack nodded before shaking his hand.
When Jack emerged from the store a moment later, without a single bag in his hand, I had my answer. It was him. He was the one paying for my groceries.
He stopped short when he saw my car. For a moment, we just looked at each other through the window. Then I rolled down my window.
"Jack."
"Harper. How's Emma?" he asked, then added more softly, "And you? Are you doing okay?" He immediately rushed to add, "You don't have to answer that. I know the rules - Emma only. Sorry."
The second question, and his immediate retraction, sent a strange jolt through me. It was the first time he'd asked about me directly since... well, since before. I knew instantly why he'd always kept his questions strictly to Emma. It wasn't that he didn't care; it was because my lawyer's letter had been a steel-trap of conditions. He hadn't been neglectful in his silence; he had been obedient.
"She's fine. Good checkup today. And I'm... managing." I paused, studying his face. "Can I ask you something?"
Jack approached my car cautiously. "Of course."
"Are you the one who's been paying for my groceries?"
I watched him consider lying, saw the moment he decided on honesty. "Yes."
"And my car maintenance? The utilities?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Jack was quiet for a moment, looking down at his hands. "Because you shouldn't have to worry about those things while you're taking care of Emma. It's my job to take care of my family, even if I'm not... even if we're not..."
"Even if you're not living with us."
"Yeah."
I felt a complicated mix of emotions – gratitude, frustration, confusion. "Jack, I don't need you to take care of me from a distance. If you want to help, you could just... help. Directly."
"You asked for space, and I'm trying to respect that while still doing what I can for you and Emma since I did a lousy job of taking care of you both before Emma was born."
His honesty was disarming. This wasn't the grand gesture I might have expected from the old Jack, the man who'd thought dramatic displays of devotion were required to fix broken things. This was quiet, practical support given without expectation of gratitude or recognition. I had asked for space, and I'd made sure he knew I'd let him know when, if, I ever felt ready to talk.
"How long have you been doing this?"
"Since Emma was born. I couldn't stand the thought of you struggling with basic necessities because of my choices. It wasn't all me - Sam helped."
"Sam knows?"
"Sam knows some of it. Not all." Jack shifted uncomfortably. "Since I couldn't come to the house, if something needed fixing, I'd buy what was needed, and Sam would fix it for you. I asked him not to tell you. I wanted you to focus on Emma and healing."
I looked at this man who'd devastated my life and was now quietly working to repair what damage he could without expecting credit. It was a side of Jack I wasn't sure I'd seen before – selfless action without the need for recognition or gratitude.
Of course, I'd seen him run himself ragged for this town before, but it was always out in the open, a source of shared pride. A leaking roof for the widow Mrs. Gable, organizing the fundraiser after the library fire, plowing the entire street's driveways after a blizzard. Jack spread himself thin, but he was always rewarded with public gratitude.
