I swallow trying to push back the huge lump that forms in my throat. “Did you get everything?”
“I picked up what I could. I had to do it quickly because he was hanging around watching.”
I clear my throat.
“I told him,” says Jamie. “He kept asking how you were. I wasn't sure if you wanted him to know, but he kind of put me on the spot.”
“It's fine.” That man can be overbearing. I know how hard it is to be around him.
“I told him it was his fault that you couldn't get to your mom fast enough because he broke your phone.”
I lift my head, feeling a sense of satisfaction. “Thanks.” I wait for Jamie to tell me more, but he doesn't say anything else. He gets up. “I'm going to cook us a nice dinner tonight.”
“I can help,” I say, getting to my feet slowly. I want to help. I need to. I have to do something to get out of this funk.
“Hey, no.” He ruffles my hair. “You don't have to do a thing. You just take it easy, Mari. I've got this.” He disappears into the kitchen only to return moments later with a bar of my favorite chocolate. He's stocked up on these, I've noticed.
“This will make things more bearable.”
I reach out for the brand new unopened bar. “Thanks.”
“I'd better get started on dinner.”
“What else did he say?” I ask him as he walks way.
“Who?”
“Ward.”
“Nothing else.”
Chapter 52
WARD
It wasn’t easy getting hold of Rob again, but after the fifth message I left for him, he finally called me back. If he was hoping for a miracle from me regarding the manuscript, he must have been sorely disappointed because I asked him to send me the work contracts he had drawn up for Mari and Jamie. It’s how I got Jamie’s address. It’s the reason why I’m on his doorstep on Monday morning.
Just as I had hoped, it’s Mari who opens the door. I’m hoping it’s because he’s at work.
She looks haggard. Her skin is pale, her eyes hollow. She seems thinner, fragile, as if she’s about to break.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I say. I fumble around, not sure what to do with my hands and wishing I had brought something. Flowers, a card, but I’m not sure of the etiquette. I’m not sure she wouldn’t throw the flowers back at me, or rip the card up in front of my face. She stands there, not letting me in, not moving a muscle. Just staring.
“May I come in?” I ask her. She continues to stare at me as if she’s in shock. This concerns me, because the sassy and in control woman, the one I later came to know, isn’t here. She’s as broken as I am.
“Please,” I beg. This might be my only chance to reach her.
She doesn’t want me to come in, and she’s too polite to say it, so I push the door open, making the decision for her. “I won’t stay for long.” I hover near the closed door, mindful of taking up her time, and invading her personal space. “I’m so sorry about your mom, Mari. I didn’t know. I—”
“I didn’t get to her on time,” she says, walking away, standing over by the window, as if she needs the distance between us to feel safe. “I missed out on being there for her because of you.” Her anger returns and spikes in an instance. “All because of you.” She jabs a finger in my direction. Her face twisting with rage. I have failed her. I’ve messed up in a way that is irredeemable. “What happened, in the end?”
“She died.”
Of what, I want to know but I don’t think she will tell me. I take a step towards her needing her to know how genuinely sorry I am. “Tell me how I can make it up to you.”
“You can get out. Leave. Never show your face here again.”
She’s angry. Lashing out, wanting to hurt me. These are feelings I understand completely.
What becomes apparent to me is that my anger vanished the moment Jamie told me about her mom. It stopped being about me, and the manuscript, and the donuts and my own funk. Hearing about Mari’s tragedy pushed me into action in the way that nothing else could have. Now that I’ve seen what a state she is in, I desperately want to help her but she won’t let me. I can try and try again until she gives in.
“You’re angry.