All the Waters of the Earth (Giving You... #3)(35)

"Mom, we just met him."

"We don't have to talk about it right now-"

Suddenly, Jake interrupted. "My nose is bleeding. Can I use your restroom? I need a tissue."

"It must be because it's so dry here," said his mother. "Do you get them often?" She pointed him to the bathroom.

"No," he said, blood dripping into his palm. "I never get them."

"Let me help you," I offered, knowing full well that Jake didn't need any help, but wanting to talk with him. I called back to her, "I'm going to make him sit down for a few minutes."

We walked quickly down another corridor and ended up in a huge, plush bathroom, with a teak bench to sit on. Looking around at the oversized bathtub and separate shower, I thought that the square, LED-lit shower head, was particularly ostentatious, given the drought conditions. There's not enough water around here for that kind of indulgence. I locked the door behind us.



       
         
       
        

"Sit. Squeeze the soft part of your nose," I ordered, handing him a Kleenex.

He obeyed, holding the tissue up to his nose, and sitting on the bench while I hovered over him. He started muttering, only partly to me, "I hoped it wouldn't be like this. It's awful out there. I can't handle it. Too many memories. I guess I reacted that way because-" He paused, took a deep breath, and kept talking. There was pain in his voice, and he sounded funny, holding his nose as he talked. "You hope that your parents change. But they don't."

"No one changes if you ask them to. People only change if they want to change and it comes from within."

He looked at me and sighed. Then he nodded.

"I never get nosebleeds," he said. "It's so dry here. There's no water. It's like there's no life. I couldn't live here."

It's not like the watery, beachy views of Santa Barbara. Home. The place where Jake and I create.

"It's pretty, though," I said, feeling the need to acknowledge the dry majesty of the area. "I like the desert."

"Some get inspired by it, I know," he allowed, "but give me water any day." I handed him another tissue, throwing away his old one. "I realize that I'm being completely stupid, but they didn't want anything to do with me when they were alive. Why would I want anything to do with them when they're dead? I just can't accept it. I'll give it to my siblings. They can buy another wing for this house."

I sat down on the bench next to him and put my head on his shoulder.

"I'm not going to tell you what to do, but think about it, okay? Just hold off until later this weekend. It could mean that you are set for the rest of your life."

"What's a workaholic going to do except work?"

I shrugged. "Maybe you want to find out."

He looked so pathetic sitting there, holding a tissue to his nose, hunky as ever, but upset. I gave him a little nudge. "How are you doing?"

Shaking his head, he admitted, "Not good. Not good at all."

"Mentally or physically?"

"Other than the nosebleed, which seems to be drying up, it's all mental." I got up, threw his tissue in the trash, and got him another one. His nosebleed seemed to have stopped.

Then I sat next to him, his warm body next to mine, just quiet. Then he turned and wrapped his arms around me, giving me a big hug, saying "C'mere, you. I don't know what I would do without you." I cuddled into his arms.

Then, as we were leaving the bathroom to rejoin the others, he turned to me and said, thoughtfully, "You know, I have an idea." 





"I'll do it," announced Jake, firmly but quietly, standing in the hallway.

"Do what?" He didn't seem angry now, or disappointed, like before. Instead, he looked calm, thoughtful, and determined. Taking my hand, he lightly traced a circle on the part of my hand between my thumb and index finger and bent down and kissed me lightly.

"Accept the money. And give equal shares to my siblings."

"Great," I said, whispering. Problem solved. I was confused, though. How did he resolve that so quickly, after he was pissed enough to want to fly back to California less than a half hour ago?

But then he took my other hand, drawing both of my hands gently behind my waist. And then he pulled me to him, holding me in the hallway, making me crick my neck to look up at his pretty face. His eyes were crinkling at me, and he looked at me very intently.

"Lucy, you don't understand."

I looked back at him, puzzled, not getting where he was going with this.

"I don't want the money for me. I want it for our children."

Involuntarily, my eyes widened, and I sputtered out a gasp. My stomach, already on a queasy, pregnant roller coaster, dipped. And I shivered, even though it was not cold. "What?"

"I don't want to touch the money. I couldn't do it. I can't do it. No matter how much it is. Those people were not family to me, and I'm not going to accept it for me. But I could create a trust for our children. I'll do it for our baby and Rob. And if we have others. I mean, we haven't talked about that . . ." he trailed off.

Oh, sweet heavens.

There were no words.

I figured this out when I opened my mouth and then closed it again. Like a fish.

"I'm gonna give the money to our kids. I'm going to break the cycle. I'm going to pass it on to our children, with love, not with guilt, and I'm going to make sure that they have lots of attention from me." He grinned. "And you."

Suddenly, a tsunami of emotions flooded my body-relief, giddiness, happiness, wariness, wonderment, shock.

And intense love for this man.

Between this announcement and the pregnancy hormones, I couldn't help it. I burst into tears, and he smiled and tugged me back into the bathroom, closing the door and sitting me back on the teak bench.

"Now it's your turn for a tissue." I nodded and took one gratefully. He sat down next to me and put his arm around my shoulders, resting his head on top of mine.

"It's going to be okay," I whispered.

"Yeah," he said. "It is."

And he kissed my tears and held me until I stopped shaking.

I'd learned before that Jake had a serious protective streak when he refused to see me, for the sole purpose of helping me with my court case. And I knew that his moral compass was set to true north because he refused to take a fortune that would make him feel inferior, or whatever it was that he was feeling. But I had also learned that he was caring, and this showed it. Ten fold.

After I calmed down, we went back out.

When Jake told his mother that he had changed his mind and would not only accept the money, but also give two-thirds of it away to his siblings like she wanted, she looked ecstatic-or at least as much emotion as her face could show. It figured. I tried not to judge, but was unsuccessful.

I also tried to like her. But I didn't. I felt sorry for her. I never wanted to find out what it was like to lose a son. Indeed, no one should have to experience that. The loss didn't excuse her behavior, however. Before the death of her son, she'd been irresponsible and that seriously messed Jake up. All parents mess up their children. But this was beyond the pale.



       
         
       
        

And then their estrangement. Watching them interact, watching how she looked at Jake, I understood it now. It was just too painful for them to spend much time together. I think that they reminded each other of hard times, all of the poverty, all of the problems, and their tragic loss. She seemed so fearful that it would reoccur. To prevent getting hurt, she'd put up walls-living in a gated community, marrying a high-earning plastic surgeon, flitting about socially, protecting herself from the past. She seemed frozen, Botoxed, scared, thin, perfect.

Never calling her son.

But it didn't really work. Even in her fortress, she was still scared. And I hoped that I never did that. I hoped that I stayed curvy, creative, and real, not perfect. And a part of my son's-and new child's-life. Forever.

The rest of our visit was fine.

Fun, even.

We learned that Veronika had a wicked sense of humor, kicked butt in videogames, and was an all-around delight to be with.

Shawn was quieter, thoughtful. Jake pulled me aside at one point, telling me that it was uncanny how much he looked like Ethan. I think it was harder for Jake to be with Shawn than Veronika.

Jake reviewed the documents that his mother had her attorney prepare, and said that they were fine. He made a few changes, but signed them. And he told me that he would draft a trust for the money when we returned to California.

When he signed the papers, he turned to his mother and said, "I don't live in fear any more, Mom. I have all that I need. I'm going to be fine."

She didn't say anything in response.

We said our goodbyes the next day. Jake had finally met his family. He hugged his siblings and his mother goodbye.

On the return trip in the plane, we held hands, not saying much. Just processing the weekend. Seeing the waters of the Pacific Ocean, the waters of the Earth, I felt like we were coming home.

When we got back, I tucked Rob into bed and then sat on the couch with Jake, talking quietly. My head was in his lap, and he gently stroked my arm, meditatively. All of the lights of the house were turned off, and we sat in the dark, enjoying the quiet.