The Will(89)

I understood that too.

“Of course. I’ll await your call. Please give Eliza my love.”

“I’ll do that. Enjoy your weekend, Josephine,” he told me and I could hear in his voice that even though his children were arriving, he would not be doing the same.

Still, I wished him, “You do the same, Arnie.”

“Take care, Josephine and”—another weighty pause—“thank you. Eliza looks forward to your visits. It’s just with the kids and grandkids…” he trailed off.

I rushed to assure him, “I understand. I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon. ‘Bye, Josephine.”

“Take care, Arnie.”

He disconnected and I put the phone back in its cradle thinking I needed to talk to Jake.

Immediately.

I needed this because I knew Eliza was slipping away and doing it rapidly. I knew that Arnie had called his children to attend her because time was short and thus precious. I knew he was preparing. And I knew that I needed to prepare, and as mad as it sounded, I understood in a way that was absolute that the best way to do that was to hear Jake’s voice.

Alas, I could not beleaguer him with this information. I knew very little of what a boxer had to do to prepare for a fight but I didn’t think it would be good for him to have the knowledge a dying woman was closing in on her passing on his mind, even if he didn’t know her.

I heard Henry calling from my mobile and my head gave a slight jerk.

I’d completely forgotten he was on the line.

I put the phone to my ear. “Henry.”

“Is everything okay?” he asked.

I didn’t want to tell him about Eliza. I didn’t want his reassurances, his compassion, his thoughtfulness, his concern, all of which I knew he’d give to me.

I wanted Jake’s.

“Uh…yes,” I lied. “Just a friend of Gran’s calling.” Luckily, that wasn’t a lie. “Listen, I have to go. I’m still in my nightie and I have some errands to run today.”

“All right, honey,” he replied then asked somewhat strangely, “You’re going to be at Lavender House all weekend?”

“Of course, Henry. Where else would I be?” I responded.

That was, I’d be there (mostly) when I wasn’t at the arena watching Jake (and Mickey) fighting.

I didn’t share that, however.

“Just checking,” he murmured then, louder, “I’ll talk to you later.”

“All right, Henry. Speak with you tomorrow.”

“You will. ’Bye, honey.”

“Good-bye, Henry.”

Without listening to his disconnect, I accomplished my own and immediately scrolled down my phone and hit Jake’s number.

It rang twice before he answered with, “Slick.”

I took in a breath and greeted, “Hello, Jake.”

“How’s your mornin’?” he asked.

“Delightful,” I lied. “How are Amber and Conner?”

“Con’s not up yet,” he told me. “He dropped off Ellie and then they talked probably until two in the morning on the phone. Amber seems fine and this might have to do with the fact that I okayed a sleepover tonight at Taylor’s.”

“Boy Taylor or girl Taylor?” I asked.

“Boy Taylor and the big deal about that is that he’s got a better makeup collection for them to screw around with. Girl Taylor has a better closet of clothes but she’s not Amber’s size so that’s not as fun.”

“Ah,” I murmured with a smile in my voice as one was on my lips.

“That why you called?” he asked.

“Um…no,” I answered.

His voice dropped lower and sweeter when he queried, “Why’d you call, baby?”

“Well, I just wished to tell you to…I don’t know. What do you say to someone prior to a fight? It’s probably not telling them to break a leg.”

I heard his chuckle before, “No. That’s not what you say.”

“Well, whatever you say, I wanted to say that.”

“Kick his ass, mess him up, knock him out, floor him…those are the usuals,” he educated me.

“Well, do all that,” I encouraged.

I got another chuckle before he said, “Good luck also works.”

“Then good luck too,” I stated.

“Can’t not have good luck, you sittin’ ringside watchin’ me fight.”

I blinked at the phone on the wall as warmth swept through me at his words.

And as this warmth spread through me, I realized that as much as I loved how wonderful he was, I was beginning to wish he was a little less wonderful. Jake being so wonderful was making it hard not to pretend I was living in a world where I could experience just how wonderful I actually wanted him to be.

He seemed not to mind my non-response for he went on to inquire, “You headin’ to the Weavers this morning?”

“Well, um…” Drat! Why was I finding it difficult to prevaricate? “Arnie called this morning and asked me not to come. His children are visiting this weekend and therefore Eliza already has a good deal of company and it’s doubtful Arnie will want to go to the office,” I found myself announcing.