The Heart - Kate Stewart Page 0,26
since it had consumed me. I’d been a fool to think I was free.
Suddenly aware I was crying and Jack was the one consoling me, I pulled away and wiped my face. “God, I’m sorry. I must’ve had a dream.”
Jack looked down at me, concern written all over his features. “I don’t know much about you, Rose Whittaker, but I do know without a doubt I hate seeing you cry.”
“I don’t even know where this came from,” I said, trying to gather my dignity.
“Well,” he said, pushing my hair behind my bare shoulder and staring at the newly unveiled skin, “Maybe you needed it. Sometimes the body has a way of ridding itself on our behalf.”
I was stunned by Jack’s words and their depth. We stared at each other for a long minute, me still shaking slightly as I pulled my knees up in the chair and hugged them to me, him sitting next to me, rubbing my shoulders before he slid them down my arms in a soothing manner. I did my best to shake off my emotion and the lingering effects of my dream. Jack stayed quiet, a calming presence while I gathered myself. I found myself thankful that he was there. Something about his strength and confidence put me at ease.
“You really were raised by more women than men, huh?” I said, admiring him again. He was freshly showered and in a dark blue dress shirt, jeans, and the same shiny black boots as the night before. His smell hit me next as I appreciated the mix of gold and sand in his hair. All I could think as I watched him watch me was: were the girls right?
What if?
I gave him a small grin despite the sick but dissipating feeling in my gut. “You are quite the gentlemen, Jack.”
He returned my grin as he removed his hands. I felt their absence immediately, their warmth gone.
“I try,” he said, surveying me once more with concern. “You okay?”
“Yes, I’m okay. I’m embarrassed but okay, thank you.”
“Nothing to be embarrassed about, but it must have been some dream.”
“It was,” I replied, not meeting his eyes. His voice soothed me as I took a deep breath, finally able to shake the rest of it off.
I looked toward the driveway, expecting to see his bike but came up empty. “I thought we were going for a ride?”
“We are,” he said, jutting his chin out toward my Tesla.
“Oh,” I said, a little relieved I wouldn’t have to fight his Harley again for my dignity. “Okay, I’ll grab the keys.”
I walked inside the house, shivered from the coolness of the air conditioning, and caught my reflection in the mirror. I was flushed and my cheeks were tear stained, but I was smiling. I couldn’t believe the sight in front of me. It was me, but not the me I was used to seeing when I looked at my reflection. This was a version of me that I hadn’t seen in years. She was a little more loose and carefree, even with the recent emotional outburst. I grabbed the keys and met Jack back on the porch. He was leaning against the deck railing on his forearms, his back to me.
“There’s something special about this place,” he said, studying the ducks as one by one they took their turn getting into then gliding across the still water in a perfect pattern, leaving ripples in their wake.
“I know. It’s the perfect place for the center, don’t you agree?” I asked with pride.
“One hundred percent,” he said, still immersed in his surroundings. I approached him and stood next to him as he spent a few moments looking around. I loved that it had that effect on people, on Jack. He wasn’t immune to its charm. I sent a prayer up, thanking God once again for my father’s quick work in ensuring it was mine after Grant’s death. Losing it would have been my biggest mistake. And now, years later, what I’d initially thought about the land and the serenity it brought was reaffirmed over and over by the people who came to visit it. Soon it would bring healing to hundreds, hopefully, thousands. Even though there would never be a justifiable reason in my mind for his untimely death, I knew deep down Grant being a part of my life, sharing this place with me, was not in vain. It was always supposed to be the home of where I’d leave my legacy. I knew that