Page 70 of The Last Autograph
“Yes. After his first chemo treatment.”
Jake’s expression saddened, and as she studied his striking face, Molly wanted to pull him in for a long hug. But the timing didn’t seem right.
“Jesse said they were a gift for a girl he’d fallen in love with but had to leave behind.”
Molly lifted a palm to her chest. “And you think it was me?”
“Who else? He never told you that he loved you?”
She recalled their last night together. Jesse had indeed said those words, but in the weeks that followed, as she navigated the pain of his cruel rejection, she’d convinced herself it was just a slip of his drunken tongue.
“He did, but we’d both been drinking, and words don’t always count when you’re high on summer lust and cheap red wine. Your brother said a lot of things after a few too many vinos.”
“That’s true.” Jake relaxed. “I often wondered who the girl was.”
“You never asked him?”
“I did once. He told me to eff off. Before then, I’d always got the impression that he’d never been in love. It saddened me.” He held her gaze, his barely there smile like a whisper. “Everyone needs to fall in love. At least once. To have that excitement of anticipation and the thrill of the chase. It’s the best feeling in the world. You know that.”
Molly nodded. But she hadn’t known, not until very recently, at least. Sure, she’d been in lust, in infatuation, in way too deep with men she should have known better about, but her feelings for Jake were like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Heartfelt, more meaningful, and now, she couldn’t imagine her life without him.
“I actually searched for these after he died but couldn’t find them. They were lying around in his room for a while… during his first treatment, so I assumed he’d never sent them.”
His words drew Molly out of her self-reflection, and she smiled sadly. “I’m sorry. I should have mentioned them sooner.”
“Not at all. Jesse gave them to you.”
Molly sensed a shift in his mood—a need to be alone with his thoughts, perhaps. “Anyway, I should go. Let you finish up.”
They both stood at the same time, the drumsticks in his hands. “Thank you for these. I really appreciate you thinking of me.”
“You’re welcome.” She walked to the door, her breathing measured as she pulled on the handle.
Locked.
“We took drumming lessons together. Did I ever tell you that?”
“No.” She turned to face him. “Do you still play?”
“Haven’t since high school. But I have Jesse’s kit in my spare room, so you never know.” Jake took her hands, leaned forward, and gently kissed her. “Thank you,” he whispered for the second time, then reached behind her and unlocked the door.
Molly brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, her hand trembling as an awkwardness jostled between them. “What are you doing later in the week?” she asked. “I thought I might cook you dinner one night.”
“Sounds good. I’ll call you.”
“Okay. Great.”
On her way home, Molly stopped outside Jake’s mother’s house, slotted the photo book into the mailbox, and drove away. Whether Hazel and Henry would appreciate her gift, she had no idea. But she’d made the gesture and felt better for it.
Molly took a detour down to the waterfront and, in a split-second decision, pulled into a parking space adjacent to the gates of the botanical gardens. She tightened her scarf against the crisp air and strolled along the path beside perfectly manicured beds, a sinking feeling in her stomach as she mulled over the significance of the autographed drumsticks and how she’d once wanted to return them to their sender. No note, no explanation.
Across the bridge to her left, radio-controlled yachts dotted the rippled waters of the pond, and in the distance, two little kids rode their scooters toward the swings. And as Molly took the circuit around the winter garden conservatory, passing hungry pigeons and white swans full of grace, that sadness remained.
Jesse’s last autograph.
28
Jake stayed at the patisserie until after six. When he arrived at his mother’s house for dinner, the table was already set, and as he took in the three place-settings, a wave of nostalgia struck him head-on.
