Chapter 28

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Jackson

I had been pacing the living room for what felt like hours, feeling nearly as nervous as I imagined I would if someone was having my baby in there. Just dropping off groceries didn’t feel like enough. I had unpacked Trudy’s and put Allison’s in a cooler in my truck with a fresh bag of ice. Then I had waited. And waited. And waited some more.

When Allison and Fiona emerged from the bedroom, flushed with joy as they congratulated each other on their good work, all I could think was that Allison had never looked more beautiful.

Then she looked at me and her whole face lit up, and somehow she leveled that beauty up even more.

“I forgot all about the groceries,” she said, laughing. “I’ll help you carry them in.”

“No need. They’re all put away. Yours are in a cooler waiting on you.”

“Thank you,” she said, tilting her face and giving me a smile. Her eyes radiated happiness. “That was amazing.”

“Miracle of life, huh?” I asked, unable to hold back a grin of my own.

“It really was. I thought I wanted to go home and crash in front of the TV tonight, but this was so much better.”

“Don’t worry,” Fiona said, interjecting herself into the conversation from where she was starting to scrub things in the kitchen sink. “You’ll get home and crash in front of the TV anyway. Unless you have better things to do.” She winked at Allison, then gave me a meaningful look.

I felt my face turn red.

Allison took a tiny step backward. “Oh, Jackson,” she said, her mood instantly shifting. “Your parents are in town. I completely forgot. I’ve taken you away from them for entirely too long.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “I told them I was going to hang around until I made sure things were okay here. Mom’s cooking dinner, and I’ll head over in a few minutes, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave until I knew everything was alright.”

“Give me your keys and I’ll go move everything to my car,” Allison said.

“I’ll do it—” I started to protest, but she interrupted me.

“No, let me do it—please.” She laughed. “I need an outlet for all this energy bubbling up inside me right now. I should be exhausted, but I feel like I could run a marathon.”

“Alright.” I smiled and tossed her my truck keys.

She practically danced out the door, still vibrating from the joy of what she had just witnessed.

“There are better ways than that to burn off excess energy,” Fiona called out, turning around to wink at me again. “You should take that girl home, Jackson.”

“We’re just friends,” I said, joining her in the kitchen. I leaned against the counter and watched as she went to work scrubbing dishes in the sink.

“Right, and I’m Mother Teresa,” she muttered under her breath.

“You practically are.”

She looked up and grinned. Then her face went serious as she peered at me with her sharp green eyes. It was a look I was familiar with, though I wasn’t often on the receiving end of it. Usually, Daphne was the one about to get questioned. I swore Fiona should have joined the sheriff’s office and worked for us as an interrogator.

“Now, Jackson,” she said, pointing her finger at me. “It’s clear as day you’ve got something troubling you.”

“Well, I don’t know if you heard, but Russell just died. So there’s that.”

“Yeah, I heard,” she said, nodding. “But that’s not it. Come on, now.” She rinsed the soap bubbles off her hands and turned toward the stove. “Pull up a chair,” she said, pointing to the chairs surrounding the little kitchen table. “I’m going to put on the teakettle.”

And even though I was used to being the one giving the orders, I did.

“I’m going to make some tea and we’re going to have us a little talk before you go. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I muttered.

The woman had cast a spell over me, and all I could do was obey her. I realized I should have been taking notes, seeing if I could mimic her natural authority when I interviewed suspects. How a short little woman in her seventies could command everyone around her was beyond me. But she did it. I had even seen the sheriff himself jump to attention when she walked in the room.

“Now,” she said, having lit the burner on the stove and placed the teakettle on top. She sat across from me and leaned forward, propping her chin on her fist. “Tell old Fiona what’s troubling you.”

I groaned and scrubbed my hands over my face. “I hate that I come from him.” I muttered it under my breath, but she still heard.

“Not much you can do about that,” she said drily. “We don’t get much of a choice in the matter, now do we? That sweet baby we just delivered didn’t get a choice over his parents, either. Now, as it turns out, he got pretty lucky. You didn’t. But you’ve made a good life for yourself anyway, haven’t you?”

I nodded reluctantly. “Yes, but even with him gone, he’s still part of me. I’m his son. People in town know where I came from.“

“So what?” She shrugged like it didn’t matter at all. “It’s not like they don’t love you anyway. You’re a hero, son. Beloved by the whole town. And that didn’t happen until after you came clean about who you are and where you came from. The only one who seems to care anymore is you.”

I dropped my head. “I work so hard to be different than him. But I’m still in his shadow. You don’t think everyone’s opinion of me would change in a heartbeat if I slipped up even once? Let’s say I lost my cool on an arrest, got too physical with a suspect. Everyone in town would be whispering about how Russell’s son finally showed his true colors.”

She peered at me. “Maybe. But seeing as you’re not the type to do something like that, why are we even worried about it? I don’t think you’re telling me everything. Come on. You can open up to old Fiona. You’re practically family, son.”

A bitter longing hit my heart. Practically family, yes, thanks to the sheriff and how his little created family had embraced me. But I’d never fit in. Not truly.

After all, I came from Russell Sharp.

“My life used to be split into two parts,” I said, trying to explain. “First, there was my life as Jackson Sharp. Pitiful little Jackson, the kid Russell liked to beat up on. Then I got a new life as Jackson Ford. Fresh start, like I’d won the lottery. A chance to create my own future instead of being doomed to the one Russell planned for me. But now, the past and the present are all getting jumbled together. I don’t know, Fiona.” I broke off as Allison walked back in.

Fiona immediately transformed, slumping and looking terribly exhausted. “Oh, dear, I’m glad you’re back. I’m afraid I’m plumb worn out. Jackson’s getting some tea for me, but would you go tend to Trudy? I think I need to rest a few minutes before I head back in there to deal with the afterbirth.” She held a fluttering hand to her head.

Allison’s face grew concerned. “Of course. Jackson, holler at me if you need anything.” She moved out of Fiona’s sight and mouthed, “She looks awful,” to me, shaking her head.

I just nodded, keeping my face serious even though I was fighting back a grin. I had seen Fiona’s elderly woman act before. She could be extremely manipulative when she needed to be.

When Allison disappeared down the hallway, Fiona sat back up. “Now, where were we?”

I just shook my head. But the humor had me feeling lighter—and somehow able to open up more. “Sometimes I think I must be as broken as he is,” I confessed. “Moving back here was a terrible idea, you know? I should have kept the two parts of my life completely separate. Should have stayed in Nashville and never set foot in this town again. You know I had been free of nightmares for years until I moved back here?”

She cocked her head. “So why did you come back?”

I shrugged and attempted to appear lighthearted. “I guess I never stopped missing the mountain. Despite everything, it felt like home.”

She nodded. “I know what you mean. But there’s more to it than that. I think you were pulled back because this is where you’re supposed to be. Your fate is here.”

I stared at her a moment, then confessed the thing I’d never told another soul. “Russell always said the Sharp blood would awaken in me, and sometimes… Sometimes I wonder if that’s why I really came back. Like it was inevitable, and I knew it, and I was trying to get away from my parents so they wouldn’t see me turn into him.”

She flattened her lips in disapproval. “Russell said a lot of things. Doesn’t make them true.”

“It feels true,” I said. It did. It felt like a curse that had been spoken over me, one I could never break.

She leaned forward and put her hand over mine. “You can’t change where you came from. But you can change your future. You get to decide, Jackson. Despite all the good you’ve done, you’re still walking around thinking of yourself as Russell Sharp’s kid. Of all the ways you could think about yourself, why would you choose that one?”

“Because it’s true,” I said, confused. “Biologically speaking, he’s my father.”

She waved a hand of dismissal. “Biologically speaking, Allison is Brent’s daughter, but the biggest difference between you and her is that she doesn’t walk around thinking of herself that way. Can I give you a piece of advice, son?”

“Sure,” I said, knowing she would give it no matter what I said anyway.

“When you bury Russell tomorrow, why don’t you let that story you’ve been telling yourself die too?”

“What do you mean?”

“Stop telling yourself the story that you’re Russell Sharp’s son. And decide who you actually want to be.”

“I’ll try,” I said. It was the most honest answer I could give her.

She patted my knee. “That’s all I ask. And about those nightmares. I’ll bring you some tea tomorrow. A blend of herbs to encourage sleep and calm the nervous system. Something to remind your body that you’re safe now.”

Was I, though? Because even though we’d be putting Russell in the ground tomorrow, I didn’t feel safe. In fact, something nagged at me, like there was something I hadn’t put together quite yet. A piece of the puzzle I was missing.

Maybe it was paranoia, but I didn’t feel safe at all.