living in a church
living in a church; jack/claire; tame; 1218 words
It’s barely eleven o’clock when Jack gets home. His apartment is as he left it that morning: a bit messy and dark. The only difference is the blonde woman whose forehead felt his lips over 15 hours ago was nowhere to be seen.
“Claire?” Jack called, his voice entering under locked doors and shooting down hallways. His sister hadn’t left a note or a voicemail, but this was nothing new. The only thing odd was the absence of Aaron. More than once he’d come home to find Kate watching his nephew, or there would be a note hastily scribbled on a piece of scrap paper and taped to the fridge or balanced on top of the bowl he put his keys in explaining where they were. This was new- no sign of Claire or Aaron.
Without realizing he was dialing, he called Kate, the only person in Los Angeles as close to Claire as he was.
“Kate, it’s Jack.”
“I’ve been waiting for your call. Claire dropped Aaron here an hour ago and she wanted to make sure you didn’t call the police or something.” Jack sighed hugely into his phone, the resounding feedback drowning out Kate’s last sentence.
“Sorry, what?”
“I said, Claire told me that she’d be at church.”
“Church?” Jack asked, his eyebrows raising. “Claire doesn’t go to church.”
“Well, apparently she does now.”
“Do you know what church?”
“No, she didn’t tell me.”
Jack thought for a moment, trying to recall anytime she’d mentioned a church around him. Then he remembered. “I know where she is. Thanks, Kate.” He hung up the phone and grabbed his keys and jacket before leaving his apartment. Three weeks ago Claire had visited him at the hospital after Aaron’s consistent questions about what Uncle Jack did.
“You can hear your heart through this,” Jack had said, crouching down in front of Aaron.
“How?”
“Here, I’ll show you.” Jack unwound the stethoscope from his neck and placed it around Aaron’s, the buds gently in his ears. “Now, put this on your heart.” Aaron took the metal disc and placed it on the right side of his chest. Jack slid it to the left and pressed it into the boy’s skin. Aaron’s eyes lit up and he squirmed.
“I can hear it! Boom- boom, boom-boom,” he imitated the sound. Claire smiled at her son from the desk.
“Doctor Shephard?” Jack’s eyes shot up and he stood, stepping in front of Aaron. There was a woman standing in the doorway.
“Mrs. Miller, how are you?” Claire could tell by Jack’s tone that this wasn’t a patient or a colleague.
“I’ve seen better days, Doctor Shephard. I came to give you this.” Her hands shook as she held out a white envelope.
“What’s this?”
“An invitation to Cody’s funeral. We appreciate so much what you did for him before he died and I know it would have meant a lot to him to have you there.” Her voice was watery and Claire felt uncomfortable sitting behind Jack’s desk. Her eyes went to Aaron and she picked him up and placed him on her lap, letting him show her how to listen to his heart beat.
“Of course. I’ll try my best to make it. I’m terribly sorr-“
“Don’t apologize. You have a beautiful family, there’s no reason for you to carry around our sadness. I hope to see you there.” Jack nodded and she left. All three were quiet for several minutes. The only noise came from Aaron who was still making the noise his heart made in his ears.
“When’s the funeral?” Claire asked, knowing enough about Jack not to ask about the patient just yet. Jack opened the envelope and flipped open the card.
“The 23rd.”
“You should go.”
“Maybe.”
“Where is it?”
“The church on Willmington,” he said, reading the morbid invitation. Claire had asked no more questions. She sat, stroking Aaron’s hair and holding him to her chest as he listened to their mingling heartbeats.
Jack turned his car off in the parking lot on Wilmington. The lot was almost empty at midnight and the only other car was Claire’s small red one. For a minute Jack sat in his car watching the light from inside the church leak out of the small windows onto the black tarmac. There was no movement inside but he could see Claire in his mind, sitting at the edge of the pew, watching the empty altar. Finally he walked to the door and entered. Just as he’d imagined, Claire was sitting but she was staring at her hands, not the altar.
He walked up the aisle silently, watching the back of her head. He’d always liked her blonde curls and how they fell in front of her face and over her shoulders. He sat down next to her and she looked up, startled.
“Jack…how did you know I was here?”
“Cody Miller.” She nodded and sat back, resting her head on his shoulder. He wanted to touch her arm, her knee, her cheek but he folded his hands in his lap and waited for her to speak. He could feel her breathing; with every exhale she sank a little further into his side.
“Why are you at a church?” He asked finally. His voice vibrated through his ribcage and she smiled, feeling the words as well as hearing them.
“I knew you wouldn’t come to his funeral. I didn’t feel right going because I didn’t know him but I wanted to pay my respects. He was just a kid.”
“I know he was.”
“I wish you weren’t my brother,” she said. He looked down at her. Her pale blue eyes were staring in front of her but not focused on anything.
“What?” He was nervous she was going to say something horrible, she was going to break his heart without ever giving him hope, but he felt her hand in his, warm and soft and small.
“What are we doing?” She asked him weakly.
“Raising Aaron,” he said decisively.
“Thank you.” She shifted her head off of his shoulder and she stood up, a white flower in her hand. She passed it to him and he followed her eyes to where a pile of flowers was heaped on a table around a picture of Cody. “I’ll meet you at home, Jack.” She gave his hand a squeeze and walked down the aisle out of the church. He was left staring at the dark stained glass window, lit only by the faint headlights from the street outside. Walking up the hollow church he put the flower on top of the rest, staring at the framed picture. He could see Aaron in the face of the dead young boy and it hurt. It hurt him to know that waiting for him at home would be the little boy he loved as a son, but who could never be more than his nephew. It hurt him to think of the woman he truly loved but never could.
Jack sighed and touched the flower petals gently. He wanted to try for Aaron but he was scared. Trying was what had killed Cody Miller. As he left the church, shutting the door behind him with a solid, cold click, he knew he would never let Aaron die.
It’s barely eleven o’clock when Jack gets home. His apartment is as he left it that morning: a bit messy and dark. The only difference is the blonde woman whose forehead felt his lips over 15 hours ago was nowhere to be seen.
“Claire?” Jack called, his voice entering under locked doors and shooting down hallways. His sister hadn’t left a note or a voicemail, but this was nothing new. The only thing odd was the absence of Aaron. More than once he’d come home to find Kate watching his nephew, or there would be a note hastily scribbled on a piece of scrap paper and taped to the fridge or balanced on top of the bowl he put his keys in explaining where they were. This was new- no sign of Claire or Aaron.
Without realizing he was dialing, he called Kate, the only person in Los Angeles as close to Claire as he was.
“Kate, it’s Jack.”
“I’ve been waiting for your call. Claire dropped Aaron here an hour ago and she wanted to make sure you didn’t call the police or something.” Jack sighed hugely into his phone, the resounding feedback drowning out Kate’s last sentence.
“Sorry, what?”
“I said, Claire told me that she’d be at church.”
“Church?” Jack asked, his eyebrows raising. “Claire doesn’t go to church.”
“Well, apparently she does now.”
“Do you know what church?”
“No, she didn’t tell me.”
Jack thought for a moment, trying to recall anytime she’d mentioned a church around him. Then he remembered. “I know where she is. Thanks, Kate.” He hung up the phone and grabbed his keys and jacket before leaving his apartment. Three weeks ago Claire had visited him at the hospital after Aaron’s consistent questions about what Uncle Jack did.
“You can hear your heart through this,” Jack had said, crouching down in front of Aaron.
“How?”
“Here, I’ll show you.” Jack unwound the stethoscope from his neck and placed it around Aaron’s, the buds gently in his ears. “Now, put this on your heart.” Aaron took the metal disc and placed it on the right side of his chest. Jack slid it to the left and pressed it into the boy’s skin. Aaron’s eyes lit up and he squirmed.
“I can hear it! Boom- boom, boom-boom,” he imitated the sound. Claire smiled at her son from the desk.
“Doctor Shephard?” Jack’s eyes shot up and he stood, stepping in front of Aaron. There was a woman standing in the doorway.
“Mrs. Miller, how are you?” Claire could tell by Jack’s tone that this wasn’t a patient or a colleague.
“I’ve seen better days, Doctor Shephard. I came to give you this.” Her hands shook as she held out a white envelope.
“What’s this?”
“An invitation to Cody’s funeral. We appreciate so much what you did for him before he died and I know it would have meant a lot to him to have you there.” Her voice was watery and Claire felt uncomfortable sitting behind Jack’s desk. Her eyes went to Aaron and she picked him up and placed him on her lap, letting him show her how to listen to his heart beat.
“Of course. I’ll try my best to make it. I’m terribly sorr-“
“Don’t apologize. You have a beautiful family, there’s no reason for you to carry around our sadness. I hope to see you there.” Jack nodded and she left. All three were quiet for several minutes. The only noise came from Aaron who was still making the noise his heart made in his ears.
“When’s the funeral?” Claire asked, knowing enough about Jack not to ask about the patient just yet. Jack opened the envelope and flipped open the card.
“The 23rd.”
“You should go.”
“Maybe.”
“Where is it?”
“The church on Willmington,” he said, reading the morbid invitation. Claire had asked no more questions. She sat, stroking Aaron’s hair and holding him to her chest as he listened to their mingling heartbeats.
Jack turned his car off in the parking lot on Wilmington. The lot was almost empty at midnight and the only other car was Claire’s small red one. For a minute Jack sat in his car watching the light from inside the church leak out of the small windows onto the black tarmac. There was no movement inside but he could see Claire in his mind, sitting at the edge of the pew, watching the empty altar. Finally he walked to the door and entered. Just as he’d imagined, Claire was sitting but she was staring at her hands, not the altar.
He walked up the aisle silently, watching the back of her head. He’d always liked her blonde curls and how they fell in front of her face and over her shoulders. He sat down next to her and she looked up, startled.
“Jack…how did you know I was here?”
“Cody Miller.” She nodded and sat back, resting her head on his shoulder. He wanted to touch her arm, her knee, her cheek but he folded his hands in his lap and waited for her to speak. He could feel her breathing; with every exhale she sank a little further into his side.
“Why are you at a church?” He asked finally. His voice vibrated through his ribcage and she smiled, feeling the words as well as hearing them.
“I knew you wouldn’t come to his funeral. I didn’t feel right going because I didn’t know him but I wanted to pay my respects. He was just a kid.”
“I know he was.”
“I wish you weren’t my brother,” she said. He looked down at her. Her pale blue eyes were staring in front of her but not focused on anything.
“What?” He was nervous she was going to say something horrible, she was going to break his heart without ever giving him hope, but he felt her hand in his, warm and soft and small.
“What are we doing?” She asked him weakly.
“Raising Aaron,” he said decisively.
“Thank you.” She shifted her head off of his shoulder and she stood up, a white flower in her hand. She passed it to him and he followed her eyes to where a pile of flowers was heaped on a table around a picture of Cody. “I’ll meet you at home, Jack.” She gave his hand a squeeze and walked down the aisle out of the church. He was left staring at the dark stained glass window, lit only by the faint headlights from the street outside. Walking up the hollow church he put the flower on top of the rest, staring at the framed picture. He could see Aaron in the face of the dead young boy and it hurt. It hurt him to know that waiting for him at home would be the little boy he loved as a son, but who could never be more than his nephew. It hurt him to think of the woman he truly loved but never could.
Jack sighed and touched the flower petals gently. He wanted to try for Aaron but he was scared. Trying was what had killed Cody Miller. As he left the church, shutting the door behind him with a solid, cold click, he knew he would never let Aaron die.