One Little Chance (Sweet River)

Chapter 9

FEbrUARY 4TH, 2023

I found out Jordan’s grandmother had passed on a Saturday morning. My mom had called while I was sleepily rummaging around in my kitchen, so I put her on speaker and placed my phone on the kitchen island. My feet were cold on the kitchen tile while I poured myself a cup of coffee.

Her opening line, “Did you hear the news?”

“What news?” I yawned, bringing my mug toward my lips.

“Jordan’s nana died, hon.” Her voice was urgent, echoing through my kitchen.

I stood frozen in place. She kept talking, filling the room with the details of what had happened, what she’d heard. I appreciated it, but all I wanted right then was to hear Jordan’s voice . Hear his details.

I wasn’t thinking clearly. I didn’t even hang up with my mother. I ran to my bedroom, then clumsily yanked on the first pair of yoga pants I saw, an oversized cable knit sweater, some Ugg boots, and a beanie.

“Mom,” I yelled. “I’ve got to go!” I grabbed my purse, slid my finger over the phone screen to end the call, and ran out the door.

I t didn’t occur to me until I was walking up his family’s driveway that my presence might not be welcome. Or wanted. Or warranted.

I was not a significant person to Jordan anymore. Not his caretaker or honorary family member. I wasn’t the one who stood by his side at the funeral.

I hadn’t even spoken with his family in eight years.

What am I doing? Classic Sophia running ahead without stopping to think. All action, no plan.

I started to back down the slick sidewalk, the sky a stormy gray. I’d forgotten a coat and my skin felt raw in the winter cold. I walked back to my car, reaching for the keys I’d dropped in my purse seconds before but couldn’t find them.

How could I have lost my keys in mere seconds? I stood outside my car digging in my purse.

“Sophia?” Said a light, soft voice I knew as well as my own mother’s. I turned to find Jordan’s mom, Pat. “You came,” she said, like it was a good thing, a right choice. She walked toward me, arms open and pulled me tight against her.

“Of course, I did.” My voice was wobbly.

She leaned out of the hug an inch to look at my face. Her hazel eyes were the same as Jordan’s but with a few new laugh lines. “Jordan’s a mess. We’re all a mess. What are we… Well, we weren’t ready.”

I shook my head. “I’m so sorry.” Then I realized I’d shown up empty-handed. No meal or flowers. “Oh, my arms are empty. I didn’t bring?—”

“No, no, your arms are full already.” She squeezed my shoulders in our embrace. “They’ll be full all day. I was about to leave to run an errand, but come in.”

She led me up the front steps under their big white covered porch. She pushed open a red door that I’d helped paint in elementary school.

The entryway was airy and open, leading into the living room. The house was full of people as I walked inside, the smell of baked goods and flowers filled the air. I glanced around the house, through the open space living room that spread into the kitchen…until I spotted him.

Jordan was leaning against the kitchen bar talking with his sister. Gray sweatpants and wool socks, bed head. Like he’d found out and came straight to his parent’s place. I’d known exactly where to find him.

“Jordan,” I said. My voice was tight as I bridged the gap between us. He stopped his conversation when he heard my voice, immediately standing straight and looking for me. When his eyes hooked into mine, something between us crumbled.

“Sophie.” His voice cracked as he made his way toward me.

“Jordan,” I said again, wrapping my arms around him. His height required him to lean down into me. He held me so close I was pulled onto my toes. The embrace was tight, warm, needy. I rubbed his back the way I knew he found comforting. He buried his head in my dark hair, hot breath against my neck.

Minutes passed. People talked around us. The doorbell rang. Their old family dog came and sniffed my shoes and left, but we stayed embraced. When we pulled apart, I stumbled on my feet.

“I didn’t even have to…” His voice trailed off.

“I rushed over the minute I heard the news. I didn’t even think twice…” Didn’t even stop to brush my hair. “Jordan, I’m so sorry.”

He took in a jagged breath. “She had a full life. A good one, too. I just think we all…”

“You all feel what you feel,” I offered.

He sighed and his shoulders relaxed as he said, “Yeah, that.”

Jordan wrapped his hand around my wrist and led me through the living room into the kitchen where his sisters, brother, and dad were standing around lost in conversation, eyes downcast.

“Sophia’s here,” Jordan said gently, somewhere between an announcement and a heads-up.

His sisters both jerked their heads up.

Jenna’s mouth fell open slightly, before she said, “Well, hi.”

“It’s been a while,” Sarah, his sister, added, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I know—” I started.

“She’s only been back in town for a couple months,” Jordan said, his voice strong as armor.

“It means a lot you’d come over here, even after all this time.” Carson, his dad, crossed the kitchen to wrap me up in a bear hug.

“You were one of Nana’s favorite people. After you, um, left town, I don’t think she ever stopped telling stories about you. Like the time you got out there and beat all of us boy cousins at flag football,” Cody, his brother, threw in from his spot slouched against the marbled kitchen counter. Jordan’s dad pulled out of our hug, standing beside me in front of the sink.

“Nothing Nana loved more than seeing someone put me in my place,” Jordan said with a halfhearted chuckle.

“Nothing she loved more than her grandkids,” I said.

“She was our biggest cheerleader one minute then picking on us the next,” Jenna said quietly, still not looking at me.

It was awkward timing for me to show up, but also, the most necessary timing. While his sisters weren’t making eye contact, Jordan kept looking at me like a life raft.

“I’m so sorry, you guys,” I said, trying to keep the trembling out of my voice.

“Thanks, Sophia,” Cody and Carson said in unison. Sarah nodded at me.

“Thanks,” Jenna said. I reached out to her and gave her hand a small squeeze.

I wasn’t here for me, or my past, or my feelings. I was here to help, so I got swept up into the rhythm of the home. I made tea, stored the casseroles dropped at the door, hugged hunched shoulders and listened to tearful voices, helped start a fire in the fireplace, and washed dishes.

The day was winding to a close, everyone sitting around the living room with a fire crackling in the hearth, family and close friends slowly taking leave. I knew my turn to head out the door was ticking closer.

“What about you, Sophie?” Jordan asked. The family had been sharing funny quirks they loved about Nana Silk.

Everyone’s eyes landed expectantly on me. I knew immediately my favorite quirk.

“Her locket,” I said, mindlessly touching my own bare neck. “She wore that gold locket with Herb’s picture in it every single day since I was a little girl. She’d even let me wear it sometimes.” I remembered looking in the mirror when she did and how she’d say I looked so beautiful and grown up.

“She never took it off,” Sarah mused.

I was nestled in beside Jordan, close as we could be without blurring the lines. He reached his warm hand toward mine and lightly rubbed the thin skin of my knuckles with his rough fingertips. My whole body flooded with warmth. I lifted my eyes to him, but he was looking at the fire, thinking.

It was my turn to go, but I didn’t want to leave.

I n the days between my visit and the funeral, I’d gone back to work, but Jordan and I had taken to text messages and phone calls. As if this had somehow built back a bridge of our old relationship, even if now as old friends.

I wore a snug knit black midi dress, black pumps, and my hair loose around my shoulders the day of the funeral. I knew I wasn’t a girlfriend, not even his most recent ex, so I’d found a pew in the back as I waited for my mom to arrive. I was going to respectfully hang back.

But, Jordan, who’d been standing at the front of the church, noticed me and walked right over. His big quarterback body was framed in a dark suit.

“Ma’am, why are you way back here?” he said, his voice low, just for us.

“I’m waiting for my mom,” I offered, feebly.

“Is Orlando coming?” I knew him, he wanted to confirm she wouldn’t be left alone if he whisked me away.

I nodded.

He looped his hand with mine and pulled me from my seat. We laced our fingers together as he led me to his family’s row. His rough fingers and warm palm felt as right as they ever did.

Jordan’s hand stayed in mine through the entire service, the receiving line, and then back home for the reception at his aunt’s house. Holding on tight like somehow my touch was a remedy.

Lines could be blurry. I didn’t care and held his hand right back.

W hen the day came to an end, we were standing outside his aunt’s house beside my car on the country road, tall pecan trees blowing in the wind, gravel road underfoot. My back was against the car door, his two arms resting on the roof of the car over my head. My face was basically in his chest. I took a deep breath of his spicy, piney scent.

“Thank you for being here. You didn’t have to be. I didn’t even ask. You… showed up . Both times,” he said.

“I wanted to be here,” I said soft as a touch.

“How is it, Sophie, no matter the situation, the problem…you’re always the fix?” he asked, his southern accent rough against the words.

“It’s not me,” I said because it wasn’t—it was us . Together, we were the fix. But this wasn’t the time to say that to him. I wasn’t even sure there was a right time to tell him about the confusing things I felt.

“For me, you always are.” He brought his forehead against mine, and my whole body felt warm, dizzy. I closed my eyes. “I couldn’t have made it today without you.”

“You could’ve. You’ve always been so strong for me when I needed it. Like this unwavering force in my life,” I said, our foreheads still touching. “But I’m grateful when you were low, I could help hold you up, too.”

“I know I’ll get through it. It just stings right now. I keep having memories of Nana hit me out of the blue.” He pulled us apart, barely an inch, his teary eyes focused on me.

“You know what I’ve learned? At first, memories feel like poison. But sometimes, they can actually be a balm. They can heal the hurt, soften the pain,” I said, slipping my arms around his neck, as he brought his big hands down from the car and wrapped them around my waist.

“I still can’t believe you came back home,” he whispered into my hair as we tightened our embrace. He was holding me, but there was still a hesitancy between us.

“Back home for good,” I said it like a promise.

It was hard to let go. To put myself in my car. To hit the gas as he stood in the driveway, head hanging low. I cried the whole way home.