Real Men Knit(38)

She looked at him. “I like these ideas.” She grinned at one pin. “As a matter of fact, I have a couple of them on my inspiration board. But do you think we can do it?”

He took the tablet from her and stared at it. “Not all of it. But some. I’ll get my brothers to help. At least Lucas and Noah while they’re here. Damian may give us trouble, but he’ll get on board.”

Kerry looked at him.

Jesse shrugged. “Who knows. Maybe he will. If he doesn’t, I can’t let it stop me.”

Kerry smiled against the hint of skepticism that was gnawing at the lower part of her belly. “No, you can’t.”

The meal was finished, thankfully less awkwardly than it had started, and Kerry got up to clear the plates, but once again Jesse stopped her. “You go on. I got this.”

“No,” she protested. “I can finish up. It’s the least I can do for you letting me stay here.”

His eyes grew serious. “Kerry, stop!”

She stilled and looked at him with confusion. “The dishes are the least I can do.”

He let out a long breath. “Stop acting like I did you some great favor when you’re here and already doing so much for us.”

She nodded as warmth swirled up and over her body, blanketing her chest in momentary peace. “I’m not doing anything I don’t want to do, Jes,” she whispered out.

But he seemed not to hear her and continued talking. “Besides, we’re like family, and family is there for one another.”

The chill came over her at double the speed the warmth had.

Family. He’d used the same word she had the night before. The word she’d regretted as soon as it was out of her mouth. She stared at him, searching his expression, but he was already picking up plates and going to the sink. “Yeah, like family,” she agreed. Though we’re not. Never have been. But she understood. Jesse needed family, and needed her to fill that space that was suddenly void. The one that gave him comfort and safety. But she knew she couldn’t do it. At least not for any real length of time. She’d be okay faking it for a while, but longer than that and she’d come out a version of herself that even she didn’t recognize.

She cleared her throat. “Okay, fam—” she started, then stopped when the words felt ridiculous on her tongue. “Tell me where I can find an iron. This top has me looking like I’ve come out on the wrong end of a bad night, and it’s driving me crazy.”

He looked at her like she had asked him where she could find the way to Mars, not an iron. Finally, he responded, “I think Mama Joy has an ironing board set up in her room—well, her old room. You want me to get it for you?”

Dammit. Mama Joy’s room? Why did she go and ask? “No, you know what, I don’t really need it,” she said, putting up her hands. He put the plates in the sink and started to walk past her but casually took her hand.

“Come on, Kerry. It’s just a room.”

But it wasn’t just a room, she thought as he rushed to open the door, and together they both looked wide-eyed into the private space that was Mama Joy’s.

And just as Jesse had said, there were an iron and ironing board ready and set up in the far corner by the old wardrobe.

Her scent was still there, and the room was the same as it’d been before she tried to make her way to the hospital that Wednesday night, feeling unwell with chest pains. Little did she know she’d never make it back home after dying from a massive heart attack en route. Kerry took in the way the bed was haphazardly made, the sheets thrown up as if Mama Joy had known she should just leave but couldn’t quite walk out without some attempt at tidying. Even in her last moments she wanted things just so. Her eyes shifted and she caught sight of Mama Joy’s unfinished knitting in the basket by her bedside. The colorful remnants of yarns she recognized as years of old favorites of Mama Joy’s. There was petal upon colorful petal stitched together. She knew Mama Joy had planned to make a beautiful winged glory shawl. Now it would never be done. Kerry quickly averted her eyes, but not fast enough.

She turned to Jesse. He didn’t look well. His tanned skin was quickly draining of color. Kerry shook her head and pushed him toward the door. “I’ve got it. I’m good now. Why don’t you go and finish up in the kitchen. I’ll meet you downstairs soon.” But he was already coming into the bedroom. Going to sit on the edge of the bed. As if on autopilot, his hand reached out and he fingered the pretty remnant petals.

Dammit. Why did she go and ask for a stupid iron? “Jesse, are you okay?”

Though he nodded his head yes, she knew he wasn’t. How could he be? She didn’t know what to do.

He let out a long and ragged breath and looked up at her. “This will never get done now, will it?” he said, referring to the petaled shawl. His eyes were full of water and desperation. Kerry was afraid she might break at any moment; the two of them falling apart wouldn’t do either of them any good.

“What am I doing?” he said. “I mean, what was I even thinking assuming I could fill her shoes and take over the shop?”

He blinked back tears that glistened in his eyes and threatened to spill over as he bent down and picked up one of Mama Joy’s well-worn slip-on sneakers. He tenderly ran his thumb over the laces, and a tear fell. Kerry choked back a sob, as it felt like her own tears would flow along with his, but she stuffed it back down when she heard his next words.