But Tim was adamant. “Well?” The lighthearted lilt to hisvoice was accompanied by a giggle, and I had a feeling he was expectingsomething completely different than what he was about to get.
Sighing, I sat at theedge of my bed. “Okay, so … Do you remember the way Grandma used to talk aboutmy grandfather, Maury? Like he was here?”
“Oh, well, that’s notat all what I was expecting,” he stated, proving my assumptions correct. “But,um, okay. Yes. I remember.”
“Do you, um …” God,this was insane, I realized. Absolutely crazy. “Do you think it’s possible thatshe was really talking to him?”
“Tess, are you askingif I really think your grandmother was communicating with the spirit of herhusband in the final weeks of her life?” Tim asked the question gently,treading lightly. His tone suggesting some concern for my well-being, like I mightofficially be off my rocker and in need of some care of my own.
I rolled my eyes—athim, at myself, at the wholefreakin’ world, andquickly answered, “Never mind. I knew it was ridiculous. I was just—”
“I don’t think you’recrazy, honey,” he interjected softly and slowly. “My answer is, I don’t know.I’ve seen a lot of things during my time in this business—God, it makes it seemlikeall ofthe folks I’ve worked with were just a jobfor me. I don’t mean it like that, I swear.But,Ihaveseen a lot, Tess, and I can’t tellyou for certain if Margaret really was talking to her husband or not. However,in my professional opinion, if you have proof that she was, then what the hell,go with it.”
“Well, that’s thething.” I kept my gaze on the open doorway and the dark hall outside, as thoughafraid I’d conjure the ghosts of my grandparents just by talking like this. “Idon’t really know. I don’t know if I’m just grasping onto this one stupidthing, because I desperately need some hope.”
“Oh, honey. What happened?”
Tim had a way of makingme feel like he genuinely cared about me. Maybe that was just his job’straining, or maybe he was just areally goodfriend,but either way, I felt the tears pricking the backs of my eyes and the image ofthe darkened hallway blurred.
I rushed into tellinghim that Jon and the girls were moving to Connecticut, afraid that if I didn’tget it out quickly, I’d never be able to. It was best for them, I knew this,and I told Tim as such. But that didn’t stop the pain from etching into mybones, carving the sadness of our story into my limbs like unseen tattoos.Maybe if Jon saw them, perhaps if he could see this pain, he’d know that what Ifelt for him was genuine and not just some convoluted conception of myimagination.
Tim sighed forlornly.“You know how I feel about this. He’s being cruel and unfair and—”
“Maybe, but the guyopened uptome,Tim, and then he found that I’d taken everything he’d said and put it into afucking book. I published it and exploited his pain!” I swallowed and laid ahand over my face. “Jesus, I’m such a terrible person.”
“Hetold youto publish it, though.”
“Maybe that was atest!” I offered, thrusting a hand into my hair. “Oh, God, do you think it wasa test? Do you think he was seeing if I’d really go through with it? Oh, my God…”
“Is there a reason whyyou won’t justtalk to him?” he askedsoftly.
My arm drooped to myside. “I don’t know. I feel like that wall I’d worked so hard to knock down isback up, and I don’t think I have the right to try again.”
Then I winced andwrapped my hand into a fist, pressing my knuckles to my mouth. “But… I gave him the book today.”
“Well, honey,” Timreplied, clearly chuffed, “if that doesn’t send him a message, I don’t knowwhat will.”
The nerves I’d keptneatly wrapped in my stomach, now seemed to bust open all at once, as a wave ofnausea barreled over me at the thought of him reading that book. I was tornsomewhere between wanting him to throw the damn thing out and needing him toread it so badly, I thought about calling him up and demanding that he do itnow.
“Yeah,” I uttered, myjaw slack and my knee jouncing.
“It’s going to befine,” Tim insisted, “and if it’s not, screw him. And I don’t mean literally.There are other men out there, gorgeous, and they’re just waiting for yourperky, poetic ass to find them.”
“Thank you,” I laughed,relaxing just a little.
“Anytime, honey. Andhey, by the way, what made you wonder? About your grandmother, I mean.”
I chewed my lower lipbefore admitting, “She had said that Maury liked Jon, and thought he was a goodman, but that he’d be disturbed or shaken, or something along those lines. Andthat I needed to be patient.”
“Huh.” Tim was silentfor one, two slow, hard beats of my heart before he replied, “Well, I guesswe’ll see, won’t we?”
“Yeah.” I nodded to thehouse. “I guess we will.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
JON
“Ithink I’m goingto ask Laura to marry me,”Jeff mused, staring at my parents’ Christmas tree.
