Something Old - Dianne L. Christner [104]
Katy trembled with resentment. “That’s a terrible thing to say. Especially when I’m hurting.”
“But it’s the truth. You don’t trust God in this.”
Katy stood and moved away. “Maybe.”
Megan followed her. “There’s something else.”
Katy crossed her arms. “What?”
“You and Lil are like night and day. I’ve been mediating between you two for years. But did you ever stop to think that it isn’t Lil who starts the arguments or works herself into a huff?”
Katy hung her head. “That really hurts.”
Megan’s hand pressed Katy’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m tired of watching you pull the world down crashing around you. It’s just that you get so fired up, when a soft word could ward off so much of the distress you bring upon yourself.”
Katy shook her head. “I’m not wrong about this one. Jake loves Jessie.”
“Maybe so. But you need to give Jake a chance to explain the photo before throwing him into the discard pile.”
That illustration gave Katy pause. Not only discarded, but forbidden in big bold letters across his name on a paper in her Bible. She narrowed her eyes. Maybe Megan was right. She needed time to think about it.
“Do you want me to call him?” Megan asked.
Freshly showered and wearing boxers and a T-shirt, Jake padded down the hall in his bare feet. The cold medication he’d taken the moment he’d gotten home had made him drowsy. His sinuses ached, and all he desired was a tissue box and bed. Finding Kleenex in a linen closet, he plodded into his room and crawled under the covers with great relief. Too ugly to get sick. Yeah, right.
Earlier he had tossed his cell phone on his nightstand, and he remembered he still needed to plug it into its charger before he fell asleep. With his eyes closed, he reached over and patted the top of the nightstand. But his fingers touched something out of the ordinary, something out of place.
He propped up on his elbow and frowned at a piece of paper stuck between his Bible and the photo of Erin and Jessie. The only items on his nightstand should be his Bible, the photo, and his cell phone. He kept his watch, billfold, and change on his desk, so it couldn’t be a sales receipt. He didn’t remember placing any paper on his nightstand.
He brought it up to his face. We are through. I hate you. Just Katy. He frowned, turned it over, and saw his mom’s cleaning list on the other side. A shudder of dread struck him. His mom hadn’t told him that Katy was coming. His pulse quickening, he read it again. He closed his eyes in agony, knowing it was about the photo that Jessie had signed similarly.
A long time ago, when he’d asked Jessie her name, she’d told him it was Jessica, but she was just Jessie. So he often teasingly called her Just Jessie. Now he picked up the photo, and although he had the inscription memorized, he read it again, flinching at her pun, using the word steamy, and easily imagining how that had sounded to Katy. Love always, Don’t forget about those steamy, starry nights. Just Jessie. He wasn’t a fool. He understood exactly the images and insinuations that would have gone through Katy’s mind. And she thought he kept the photo there because he still cared about Jessie. He moaned, shoved everything back on the nightstand, and turned his back to it. He heard a crash. Women. Way too much trouble.
Jake awoke to music from his cell phone. With a groan he rolled over and swiped the nightstand for it, knocking it onto the floor. As he came to his senses, he remembered that Katy was mad. Was that her calling? Muttering at himself, he stumbled out of bed, bringing half the bedcovers with him, and scooped the phone off the floor. He glanced at the phone’s rectangular face, noting that the caller wasn’t Katy or anybody else he had in his address book.
“Hello,” he growled.
“Hi. This is Megan.”
“Yeah?” There was silence on the other end. He tried to sound more civil. “Megan?”
“I thought you should know that Katy came to see me this afternoon. She was really upset. With you.”
“I figured.”
“You sound weird. Is this bad timing?”
“No. I’ve got a cold.”
He