Calamity Jena (Invertary 4)

The car slowed and pulled over to the side of the road. Heather turned in her seat to face her son.

“Matt, honey, you have to deal with the fact the girls don’t need you the way they used to.” She put her hand on his knee and squeezed. “I know how

much it hurts. I know it leaves you feeling like you’ve lost your job. It’s horrible to think you’re not needed anymore. But they do need you, honey, just in a different way. If you want the girls to come to you when they’re in trouble, then you have to let them grow up.”

Matt sniffed, gave his mother a tight smile and sat back in the seat. “I don’t like it.”

“No, no parent does. And that’s essentially what you’ve been to them these past eight years. I don’t know what I would have done without you. If you hadn’t come back home when your dad was diagnosed, I would have been lost. But it’s time for you to find your own life now, son. Well past time.”

“That’s why I’m applying for jobs in the cities. I can put my degree in criminology to good use and concentrate on my career. I’m wasting my education here. Especially now I’m not needed.”

Heather let out a heavy sigh and muttered something that sounded very like, “Stupid men, they don’t have a clue about anything.”

Jena bit her lip, stared out the window at the landscape and pretended she didn’t completely agree.

The visit with his father went much as Matt had come to expect. Each day his dad drifted further away from them. Matt didn’t need the doctors to tell him they were nearing the end. A fool could see it wouldn’t be long. An even greater fool convinced himself a miracle would happen, that his father wouldn’t leave them, that his mother wouldn’t be alone. He scoffed. Yeah, he was that big of a fool.

“I’m sorry, Matt,” Jena said softly beside him.

They were standing in the hallway, watching his parents through the crack in the door. His mother sat on the bed beside the prone figure of his father. She combed her fingers through his hair as she talked to him. Her voice was the same soft, melodic tone he remembered as a child. The voice that brought peace when he was ill, or soothed after nightmares.

“He’s been here two years.” He took a sip of his coffee and cringed. Man, it was terrible. “Mum comes every day. She gave up her job so she could do this. She still works, freelance proofreading, and she does well. She says she’s really grateful for a job that fits around her life. She means him. Fits around him. Her husband.”

He jerked with surprise as Jena wound her arm through his. She rested her head on his shoulder, lending him her strength, giving him her comfort. It was too tempting to ignore, and Matt found himself leaning into her heat.

“He was a lawyer. I thought about following him into the field, but I needed something a bit more active.” He shook his head. “All those hours behind a desk were my idea of hell. Now my idea of hell is getting called out three times a week to find Morag McKay’s scabby cat.”

Jena chuckled, and he felt it vibrate through him, loosening something inside of him. Making him want. He wasn’t sure what he wanted, but it was there. A slow keening. A yearning. A need opening up and throbbing within him. He took another gulp of the awful coffee.

“He was the local football coach. Under-sixteen squad. He used to joke he discovered Flynn.”

“Who’s Flynn?” Jena’s voice was reassuringly soft.

“My cousin, Harry’s older brother. Not sure if you’ve met Harry. He’s the computer genius who sometimes does work with Lake.”

Jena nodded against him.

“Well, Flynn is a professional soccer player. He’s with Barcelona right now. Top of his game. Dad would have been proud.” He grinned at the memory. “Dad said Flynn learned everything he knows from him.”

“Men,” Jena gently scoffed. “Always taking credit for everything around them.”

He could hear the smile in her voice. “We wanted my dad to be there for Flynn’s final game in the European Championship, but he wasn’t up to it. Flynn’s team won.”

“You know.” Jena looked up at him. “Sometimes it isn’t the things people miss that matter, but the things they take with them. Your dad might not have been there for the most important game of your cousin’s career, but he got to carry the knowledge he played a part in it. He might not remember Flynn’s career, but remembering is different from soul-deep knowing. I bet deep inside, where it can’t be affected by his illness, I bet he knows all about Flynn’s success.”

Matt felt the world shift at her words. He peered into those mesmerising honey-coloured eyes and time stopped for a few seconds. All he was aware of was the wonder he felt. The wonder of Jena and the gift she’d just given him. The gift of understanding. Of trying to ease the pain he rarely acknowledged—even to himself.

“Okay.” His mother’s voice broke the spell and restarted time. “Let’s go home.”

He watched as she cast an agonising glance back over her shoulder to where his father stared into space.

“Better tomorrow,” she said, as though trying to convince herself.

“It’s been a rough day.” Jena reached for his mother’s hand. “When days get rough for me, do you know what I do?”

“No.” His mother was making an effort to accept the comfort Jena offered. “What do you do, Jena?”

“Well”—Jena’s eyes sparkled with mischief—“I put on my favourite music, grab a pint of Chunky Monkey ice cream and dance round the house naked until I’m exhausted.”