The Best of Times: A Dicken's Inn Novel (20 page)

Jackson heard courage and determination in her voice. It made him feel loved, and it made him feel torn. He wanted to expound on those feelings, but he settled for saying, “My mother’s right about you. You are a very sweet girl.” He pressed a kiss into her hair. “And I was right about you, too.”

“How’s that?”

“Falling in love with you is the best thing I ever did.”

“Amen,” she said, and they both chuckled.

The cordless phone she always carried with her rang, and she reached for it, saying, “I’ve got to get it. Polly went on an errand.” She pushed the button and answered, “Dickensian Inn. How may I help you?” Jackson thought of when he’d called here, not so many weeks ago—the first time he’d heard her voice. If he’d only known how she would help him! “Yes,” she said brightly, “I do believe we have at least one room available.” She was up and on her way out of the room. “Just give me a second here and I’ll see.”

She came back a few minutes later, and he said, “You owe me dinner out.”

“Do I?” she asked, and he knew that she knew where he was going with this.

“I’ve gone
more
than a week without a drop of liquor, and Granny even offered to share her brandy with me more than once.”

“I’m
very
impressed,” she said, sitting beside him again. “You did it. What I’m wondering is why.”

“Why what?”

“Why were you willing to take on my challenge and win? Is this some kind of Marine-slash-FBI kind of willpower? You just need to prove it for the sake of proving it?”

He looked into her eyes. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“I thought you could read me.”

Chas laughed. “Sometimes. And sometimes you are like a stone, Mr. Jackson Leeds. I
do
know that you dumped out the liquor
before
we had that conversation . . . when you took on the challenge.”

“How did you know that?”

“I clean your room, remember? You don’t call me Detective for nothing.”

“That’s true,” he said. “I suppose I
did
prove something. I proved you wrong. I can clearly live without liquor if I choose.”

“I’m impressed. And you didn’t freak out or throw a fit or anything.”

“I think you have a short memory. It wasn’t an easy week.”

“No, but that had nothing to do with what we’re talking about.”

“It most certainly does. Under any other circumstances, I
would
have been drinking. Instead I’ve become addicted to you. But I’m glad you’re impressed, because my main goal in life is to impress you.”

“Since you put it that way . . . I’d be even more impressed if you would just stop drinking altogether—forever. You don’t need that stuff. When you go back I would hope you could remember what you’ve proven. Dump it all out and don’t buy any more. There’re all kinds of wonderful things to drink in this world that don’t rot your guts out and impair your judgment. But hey, you’re changing the subject. I want to know why you did it.”

“You asked me to.”

Chas chuckled. “You’re not trying to start one of those meaningless relationships here, are you?”

His expression didn’t hold even a hint of the humor she was attempting to feed into the conversation. In fact, his seriousness was so intense and his silence so drawn out that her heart began to pound. Just when she thought he would never speak, he said, just one decibel above a whisper, “If I thought it was meaningless, I wouldn’t have stopped drinking.” He took her hand. “You inspire me, Chas. I told you that a long time ago. That’s why I did it. And for you, I will dump it all out when I go home. If I feel like having a drink, I’m going to call you instead.”

“Deal,” she said firmly, then gave him a kiss. “I love you, Jackson. And I’m glad you love me. But don’t do it for me. Do it to make your life better.”

“Okay, point taken . . . but it still doesn’t hurt to have a woman in my life who inspires me.”

“I won’t dispute that . . . at least the part about being in your life.” Silence made her thoughts drift, and she finally had to admit to them. “I don’t want you to leave, Jackson.”

“I don’t
want
to leave, but I think it’s inevitable.”

“When?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want to talk about that. Let’s talk about how you owe me dinner, although that’s entirely ridiculous because you give me dinner every day.”

“This is different, although I confess, when I said that I would take you to the finest restaurant in town and buy you a meal you will never forget, I was actually talking about here. I just thought I could fix you something really special.”

“That’s very noble,” he said, “but I think it would be nice for you to get out and
not
have to cook. And when you get right down to it, I think that I owe
you
dinner, since you’re the one who inspired me. So, what do you say tomorrow we go out . . . for something really special?”

“Deal,” she said. “You talked me into it. And how about this evening we watch a movie?”

“Where? In Granny’s room?” It was the only place he could think of that had a TV, except for their private rooms, which would not have been appropriate for a woman like Chas. She stood up and opened what he’d always assumed to be some kind of cupboard or armoire that looked authentically Victorian. Inside was a nice television and video equipment. “Tah dah!”

“Very clever,” he said. “You talked me into it. What are we watching?”

“My favorite Christmas movie, of course.”

“And that would be?” He motioned with his hand.

“Scrooge, of course.”

“Of course,” he said and chuckled. “And will the ghost of Charles Dickens be watching it with us?”

“Maybe,” she said, sounding much like her grandmother.

After supper, Chas made certain that Granny had everything she needed, and left her to watch a couple of programs that were her favorites. While Jackson built a fire in the parlor fireplace, Chas made popcorn and Kool-Aid. With the Christmas tree lights adding a sparkle to the room, they settled onto the couch, and the spirit of Christmas unfolded through a quality rendition of
A Christmas Carol
. Jackson was touched to see that Chas actually cried a little.

“How many times have you seen this?” he asked. They had remained where they were with the fire burning low and the Christmas lights twinkling.

“At least once every year, but it always makes me cry. It’s such an amazing story. Dickens was truly inspired.”

“I can’t dispute that.”

“And the message is so powerful.”

“What is that?” he asked, mostly because he wanted to hear
her
interpretation of its theme.

“That people can change. Many people are given opportunities to make their lives better, but they choose not to act on them. Scrooge was given a marvelous opportunity to change, and he took it. And through the changes he made in his life, he was able to affect many other lives for good.”

“You’re saying that even people like me can change for the better?” he asked, his tone mildly facetious. “Say, for instance, that I stopped drinking, or . . . forgave my mother. Stuff like that?”

“Exactly stuff like that,” she said and kissed him.

He smiled, and she settled her head comfortably against his shoulder, not wanting to think about what it would be like when he left, and praying for the hundredth time that he would choose to at least stay for Christmas. And she prayed for at least the thousandth time that when all of the current challenges in Jackson’s life were settled, he would choose to spend the rest of his life with her.

Out of the silence, Jackson said, “I have a confession to make.” He put his head in her lap and stretched out on the couch so that he could look up at her.

“Ooh. I can’t wait.”

“Charles Dickens saved my life.”

Chas took a moment to gauge his expression. “You’re serious.”

“Of course I’m serious. Do you think I would joke about something like that in a place like this?” He chuckled. “No, seriously. One of the only good things that happened in my youth was this teacher I had in junior high. I guess she saw something in me besides the white trash kid that even Social Services couldn’t save. She had a way of getting through to me with the way she taught, and then she sent me home with a Dickens novel. It was
Great Expectations
. I remember reading late at night with a flashlight. I loved it. I became completely lost in it. And then I wanted another, and another. I read them all. They gave me hope and perspective. That’s why I chose
this
place when I was Googling a bed-and-breakfast.”

“Really?”

“Really. I put the word Victorian in my search, because I love Victorian decor and architecture—probably a side effect of my love for Dickens and his time period. But yeah, it was the Dickens thing that brought me here.”

“Wow! That’s amazing.” She let out a delighted little laugh.

“Yes, it is. I guess that means Mr. Dickens brought us together.”

“So he did. You’d better tell Granny this story.”

“I already have,” he said, “but I needed to tell you, too.”

“It’s a great story. But how did he save your life, exactly, besides giving you hope and perspective? I can tell there’s more by that look on your face.”

“Very good, Detective. Yes, there’s more. As I got closer to being eighteen, I wondered what to do with my life. I didn’t have a good GPA or the money to go to college, so that didn’t seem possible. I knew I couldn’t stay in my parents’ home, or even my hometown. I hated everything about it, and as you’ve figured out, I was full of a lot of anger. I was afraid of joining the military, even though it offered some solutions. I knew it would take hard work and sacrifice, and of course, there’s always the concern about the danger involved. And then I felt drawn to rereading
A Tale of Two Cities
. Then I read that last line . . . ‘It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.’”

Chas was amazed at how he quoted it perfectly, and she knew that he did because she knew it well. “That’s very impressive.”

“I’ve lived by those words, Chas, because they changed my life. I was so in awe of the concept that Sydney Carton could go to the guillotine on behalf of Charles Darnay in order to give the woman he loved a better life. And that’s when I knew that my life could have value in the military. That, if nothing else, I could sacrifice and serve on behalf of my country to make life better for someone else; then my life would have meaning and purpose. It wasn’t just a way to get out of town. It became a way of life. I lost my fear of dying when I came to believe that something good could come out of it. But I think it was that very way of thinking that’s kept me alive, and made it possible for me to . . .”

“To what?” she asked when he stopped abruptly.

“I was just going to say something that I’ve never said out loud before. It sounds . . . arrogant, perhaps.”

“Just say it. If it sounds arrogant, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

He chuckled. “I’m certain you wouldn’t be afraid to do that.”

“So, just say it.”

“I was going to say that I think my attitude and determination had a lot to do with being able to achieve a higher rank at a young age, and to receive the commendations that I was given. And because of that I was able to go into the FBI with a better position and better pay. My philosophy has carried over into the work I do there, and I think it’s served me well. That’s all.”

“That doesn’t sound arrogant in the slightest. It makes me proud of you.”

“I’ve never really cared much what people thought of me or what I do, but I have to admit that knowing
you
are proud of me feels good. That’s because I respect your opinion. And
that
is how Charles Dickens saved my life. His writings have had an impact on me, over and over again. I can’t count the times I’ve been confronted with a difficult situation, and then I would remember what one of his characters did, and it would give me a new idea or a different perspective.”

“That’s remarkable,” she said. “It’s almost like we’re soul mates, or something.”

“Yeah,” he said, tightening his gaze on her. “That is one of
many
reasons I believe we’re soul mates.”

She looked intrigued. “What are the other reasons?”

“I know better than to think that you haven’t noticed the commonalities between us.”

“I’ve noticed, but I want to know what
you’ve
noticed.”

“You married a man who joined the military at a very young age. I’ve wished that Julie would have had the conviction and commitment you did, but then it probably would have ended in divorce anyway.”

“Maybe not.”

“Or maybe.”

“I do think that you and Martin have a lot in common,” she said.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, as opposed to a reason to be jealous of your feelings for him.”

“He’s been dead for twelve years, Jackson. And yes, it’s one of the highest compliments I could give. He wasn’t perfect, but he was a good man, and his patriotic convictions are much like yours. What else do we have in common?”

“We both love Granny,” he said, and she laughed.

They talked a long while about the things they had in common, ignoring the things that they didn’t—most specifically the clash of homes and careers and religion, and how it seemed inevitable that those things would come between them. Chas chose not to think about that now, and knew that he was choosing to do the same.

The following day Jackson had a longer-than-normal visit with Granny, enjoying her stories and antics. She was perkier than usual, and Chas joined them a little way into the conversation. The three of them talked and laughed until Granny was tired and it was time for Chas to get back to work.

That evening, they left Polly to care for Granny and the inn so they could go out to dinner. She’d decided to just stay the night since she hated to go home to an empty apartment after dark. When they were on their way out, Polly said, “I’m just thinking of moving in here. I spend more time here than I do at home, and I bet you’d give me a better deal than my rent.”