As he climbed the stairs, the door to the house flew open. Cody stepped onto the porch. “Mommy, I’m hungry.”
“I’ll be right there,” she called.
Shane waved to him. “Hey, Cody.”
“Hey, Shane.” The boy turned to his mom. “Can Shane have pancakes with us?”
MJ gnawed her lower lip, a sign of indecision.
“Pleeease?” Cody clasped his hands as if he were praying.
Who could resist? Not Shane. If MJ considered him merely a friend, she could invite him for pancakes. Or he could invite himself. “That sounds good. I’m starved.”
She chewed her lip some more, still uncertain, then her eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief. “I guess it’s all right. I make them special for Cody, so you’re in for a treat.”
“Great, but I need a shower.”
“I can tell,” she said, wrinkling her nose at his sweaty shirt. “You weren’t joking about lots of laundry.”
He wasn’t joking about his feelings for her, either. But he kept that thought to himself.
MJ returned to the house, and Shane went to his apartment. Twenty minutes later, he walked into her bright yellow kitchen. While she cooked, he and Cody set the table. Whatever she was doing involved more than pancake mix, but she wouldn’t let them see. After several minutes, she announced, “They’re done.”
Shane and Cody sat, and MJ put large plates in front of them. A bear-shaped face with two round ears, a strawberry nose, blueberry eyes, and a whipped cream smile stared back at him. The bear looked fierce indeed.
“I have Yogi,” Cody declared.
“No,” MJ said. “That’s Boo-Boo.”
Cody grinned at Shane. “Then you have Yogi. He takes picnic baskets like you do.”
Shane and MJ shared a brief smile. She had closed the door on dating, but with a Yogi Bear pancake she had pushed it back open, if just a crack.
Chapter 12
The trees outside of Olivia’s condo clung to their September leaves, but the décor in her living room shimmered with the serenity of a winter day, one full of sunlight and twinkling snow. The white carpet was freshly vacuumed into pristine V’s, the glass tabletops didn’t have a single smudge or streak, and the Tiffany-style lamp, a replica made of wintry pastels, glowed softly on the end table next to the ice blue couch.
The only out-of-place item was a bright red photo album. Bending slightly, Olivia nudged it to an artful angle, then faced the window looking out to the treelined street in her gated condo community. Homemade vegetable soup, Melissa’s favorite, simmered on the stove. A new toy for Cody waited in a corner. Everything was perfect. Or so she hoped.
Maybe, if Melissa felt at home again, she would stay in Refuge and Olivia would have her family back.
She heard the old Bonneville before she saw it. The throaty rumble polluted the quiet and pulled her lips down in a frown as she turned to the window. That car! It had belonged to her ex-husband, now deceased. Olivia hated it just a little less than she hated the devastation of the divorce.
Melissa had been four years old at the time and in a way, so had Olivia’s musician husband. He had abandoned them both, more or less. Olivia had recovered. And while she’d done her best to be both father and mother, she would always wonder about the hole he’d left in his daughter’s heart.
Outside, the Bonneville sputtered to a stop. Peering through the sheer white drapes, Olivia winced. Oxidized paint blotched the car’s hood and roof, and cloudy grime dulled the headlight covers. Her brows knit together in a frown, but then Cody scrambled out of the car, all boy and energy and towheaded charm. Melissa followed, reaching for his hand, then stopping to finger-comb his hair.
The boy didn’t look pleased about it, but Olivia grinned through a sheen of tears. Oh, how she had missed these moments!
She flung open the front door, called a greeting to her daughter, and walked toward Cody, deliberately slowing her school stride to a grandmotherly amble. She ached to hug him, but boys could be shy and she didn’t want to overwhelm him.
“Hi, Cody,” she said with another big smile.
He looked at his shoes, then tilted his chin up and to the side, just enough so he could see her face. Curiosity collided with concern in his denim blue eyes. The concern must have won, because he turned to his mother for guidance.
Melissa nudged a strand of hair away from his eyes. “Cody, this is Grammie.”
Olivia bent at the waist, putting them at eye level. When her grandson peeked at her over his shoulder, she smiled so hard her cheeks ached. “I’m so happy to see you.”
“Hi,” Cody replied.
“I have a present for you. Would you like to open it?”
He looked to his mother for permission, just the way Melissa had once looked to Olivia. Hope for reconciliation snuggled even deeper into her heart, going deeper still when Melissa nodded yes.
The three of them entered the condo. No small talk. Not even about the weather. At Olivia’s request, Cody and Melissa took off their shoes in the tiled entry. “White carpet,” she said with a shrug.
In their stocking feet they walked down the short hall to the living room. Melissa perched on the edge of the sofa. Cody did the same, dangling his sock-covered feet and kicking slightly. His brand-new socks sparkled as white as Olivia’s carpet.
Melissa grazed her hand on the skintight fabric of the sofa, then laced her fingers in her lap. “The furniture is new.”
“I bought it two years ago.” Do you like it? Could you feel at home here? Olivia certainly did. And she wanted her daughter and grandson to feel at home, too.
She lifted a big gift bag out from behind the chair in the corner, set it in front of the coffee table, and crooked her finger at Cody. “Come here, kiddo.” Her old name for Melissa. “Let’s see what’s in the bag, okay?”
Shyness forgotten, Cody scrambled off the sofa and skidded to his knees in front of the bag. His face lit up like Christmas as he tossed the oodles of tissue paper, and his eyes widened even more when he lifted out a remote-controlled monster truck, a toy the clerk at Toy Town had assured her would be a hit.
The box was as long as one of Cody’s arms, but he managed to wrestle it out of the bag. “Wow, Grammie! Thanks. It’s really big. Can I play with it now?”
“May I.” Oliva stifled a groan at herself. Old teachers never died; they just became principals. “And yes, you may. But how about after lunch? I made your mommy’s favorite.”
“What is it?” Cody asked, turning to Melissa.
Inhaling through her nose, Melissa pretended to ponder the familiar aroma of bay leaf and beef stock. “Do I smell homemade vegetable soup?”
“Yes, you do,” Olivia replied. “Complete with goldfish crackers.”
Soft laughter spilled from Melissa’s lips. “That sounds wonderful. Cody, you’re in for a treat. Grammie makes the best vegetable soup in the world.”
Olivia glowed from the inside out, her heart pattering as she reached to give Cody’s shoulder a squeeze. Before her fingers reached his shirt, he flung himself into her arms and hugged her hard.
Melissa watched from the couch, a poignant smile on her face, the tilt of her lips mixing the same pride and pleasure that Olivia, too, once felt as a mom. The past and present collided in a breath and spun into a dream for a future bright with moments just like this one.
A lump forced its way into Olivia’s throat. It was too soon to present her plan to Melissa, so she swallowed hard, set her hope to simmer like the soup, and headed to the galley-style kitchen. Melissa and Cody followed, with Cody chattering nonstop about the truck.
Melissa shushed him with a touch, then glanced at the big pot of soup and the empty bowls waiting to be filled. “Mom, do you need any help?”
“No. Everything’s ready.” Olivia had even set the table, though she wished now she hadn’t. That had been Melissa’s job while growing up. It would have been nice to share that memory.
Olivia served the soup and the
y ate. Cody did most of the talking. He liked the Minions, Star Wars, riding his bike, and playing T-ball. He didn’t know how to swim, but he was going to learn soon. As for school, he liked math a lot better than reading, but recess was the best. Melissa added she had enrolled him in Mountain View Elementary, and his teacher was Ms. Odenmeyer, a veteran educator whom Olivia liked and respected.
When their bowls sat empty, Olivia gave him an extra cookie for dessert. He fetched the monster truck, went out back to the patio, and happily sped the truck in circles.
With Cody occupied, Olivia guided Melissa into the living room. “I want to show you something.”
They sat together on the sofa, shoulder to shoulder. Olivia placed the red photo album in Melissa’s lap, and together they turned the pages, smiling at memories and groaning at embarrassing hairstyles.
The album held the best moments of their lives. Melissa’s school portraits. A Florida vacation. The snow angels they’d made in matching pink parkas. Middle school pictures ripened into snapshots of a young woman with a sassy smile. The last photograph captured Melissa in a UCLA T-shirt, grinning nervously in front of the Bonneville packed to the roof. Olivia had made the drive with her, helped her move into the dorm, then flown home alone.
The picture was a fitting end to the album. And a fitting place to begin anew.
Melissa closed the book gently, then set it back on the coffee table. Using her index finger, she nudged it into the exact spot where Olivia had placed it.
Olivia’s carefully planned words stuck in her throat. Where did she start? How did they heal?
Melissa hesitated too. She opened her mouth, closed it, then broke the silence with words that pinged like sonar. “Do you remember the last time we were in this room?”
“I remember.”
“I told you I was pregnant.”
Olivia would never forget that morning. Icy flecks of snow had pelted the windows, while the wind howled and Melissa threw up her breakfast. Suspecting a stomach virus, Olivia had put saltines on a plate and opened the emergency bottle of 7 Up, then checked her daughter’s forehead for fever.
“You don’t feel hot. Do you think it’s food poisoning?”
“It’s not food poisoning.”
“Then what is it?”
Silence. A sniff. Then the words that changed their lives. “I’m pregnant.”
Olivia ran a high school. She knew teenagers had sex, and she had spoken candidly to her own daughter about birth control, disease, and especially about love. A single parent herself, she knew the strain of raising a child alone. At the time, she had strongly counseled Melissa to give the baby up for adoption.
When Melissa balked, Olivia had resorted to tough love. “If you keep this child, you’ll do it without my help.”
“That’s your choice, Mom. And I’ve made mine. I’m keeping my baby.”
“You’re being naïve. How will you take care of it?”
“I’ll find a way.”
“How? Working for minimum wage? You can’t provide for a child. For the baby’s sake, give it up.”
But Melissa refused, and “it” had turned into Cody. Now here they were, six years later, with the exact problems Olivia had predicted. She hoped Melissa would listen to her now.
Through the window she heard the whine of the monster truck. Her chest tightened into a knot of longing. “You’ve done a wonderful job raising Cody. You should be very proud of him.”
“I am.” Melissa scooted an inch to her left, away from Olivia. “I also have to provide for him. I don’t want to sell Grandpa Jake’s house, but it’s for the best. I want to—”
“Melissa, I—”
The girl held up one hand. “Please, Mom. Let me finish.”
Olivia felt chastised and rightly so. Would she ever learn to not interrupt? “I’m sorry, honey. Please. Go ahead.”
Melissa lowered her hand back to her lap. “I have to provide for him. Being a mom is the biggest job in the world. I know that now. Having Cody opened my eyes to what you tried to tell me. And to everything you did for me. I want you to know, I appreciate the sacrifices you made, how you went back to school, and gave us a home.”
Olivia put her hand over her heart. “Oh, Melissa.”
“There’s more.” The girl’s eyes misted into a sheen. “I’m sorry for the distance between us. I didn’t mean to get pregnant. It was stupid of me. A mistake—”
“But now you have Cody.”
“Yes.”
“And he’s not a mistake. He’s wonderful.” The words rushed past her lips, a torrent of love both for Cody and Olivia’s own little girl. “Raising a child is an amazing experience, but doing it alone takes everything a woman has to give. Patience. Love. Going without sleep. It’s difficult, to say the least.”
“No kidding!”
Melissa rolled her eyes to the ceiling, groaned, and met Olivia’s gaze with a tender one of her own. They were thinking alike now. Mother and daughter. Two women woven together by experience and strands of DNA. Olivia had never been prouder.
The tender smile on Melissa’s face relaxed even more. “Cody’s definitely a handful.”
“That’s because he’s smart,” Olivia declared. “He’ll need all sorts of things. Piano lessons—”
“If he wants them.”
“Space camp—”
Melissa’s brow wrinkled into a frown. “Mom, that’s expensive.”
Olivia had love and money to spare, and she wanted to lavish it on her family. She could already see Cody at his high school graduation. He’d be valedictorian. Harvard would be lucky to have him, or maybe Stanford.
She gripped Melissa’s hand. “I want to help you.”
“How?”
“Move in with me.”
Melissa’s jaw dropped. “Live here? In the condo?” Craning her neck, she surveyed the living room as if she’d never seen it before.
“You can have your old room. We’ll paint it, of course. That rose color has to go. And we’ll pick out new curtains and a pretty comforter. Cody can have my office. There’s an adorable bedroom set at Martin’s Furniture. He’ll have tons of bookshelves, a toy chest, but no television. That’s not good for his mind.”
“Mom?”
“There’s more.” Olivia could hardly contain herself. “I know how much you wanted to be a doctor. How would you feel about nursing instead?”
Melissa’s brow furrowed again. “I’d love it, but I don’t see how it’s possible.”
“Central Wyoming College offers a two-year nursing program. If you move in with me, you can keep Grandpa’s house and rent it out. I’ll pay your tuition for nursing school, and you’ll have an income of your own.”
Melissa gasped. “Mom—it’s so much. I never thought—I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes.”
“It’s so generous of you.”
“It’s the right thing to do.” Olivia reached for Melissa’s hand, held it tight, and hoped. “Say yes, Melissa. Please. I want the three of us to be a family.”
MJ gaped at her mother. Not once had she imagined such an offer. She wanted to shout, “Yes!” and hug her mom hard, but she had learned to be careful. In front of her, the red photo album sat at a perfect angle. It resembled blood on snow, a reminder that her mother had eviscerated her in this very spot. Now they wanted the same things—healing, a fresh start—but kicking snow over a stain didn’t make it go away.
The glass tables gleamed, and the white carpet didn’t have a spot on it. The vacuum lines made perfect triangles that combined to make perfect diamonds. Most perfect of all, the Tiffany replica glowed with silent, untouchable beauty.
MJ didn’t belong in this perfect room. Neither did Cody. With her rambunctious son, smudges and stains were inevitable. So were crashes, bumps, thumps, and broken glass. But oh! The chance to go back to school, have a career, and do more than survive paycheck to paycheck—the opportunity to love and serve women like herself.
She su
cked in a deep breath, held it, tried to stop shaking but failed. Before she made a decision, she and her mother needed to talk—really talk—about the practicality of the arrangement.
“It’s a wonderful offer, Mom. But I’m worried.”
“About what?”
“Cody’s on the wild side.”
Her mother waved off the concern. “We’ll make a few rules, of course. But that’s normal.”
MJ agreed, but Cody didn’t always follow the rules. The broken bedroom window proved it.
The back door popped open. “Mommy? Can I come in?”
“Not yet.” She wanted to be sure he took off his shoes again, so she headed for the kitchen in her stocking feet.
The whirring of the monster truck erupted in her ears, followed by the slide of rubber tires on the linoleum. “Cody, no!”
The monster truck, muddy and dripping, jumped to the white carpet. MJ stuck out her foot to block it, but it ricocheted to the left and picked up speed, leaving brown tracks as it headed for the table holding the Tiffany lamp.
Should she run to the lamp or grab the controller from Cody? MJ opted for the controller. Sliding in her sock-covered feet, she lost her balance and nearly fell. Behind her the car smacked into a table. The lamp rattled, but her mother caught it.
Cody stood at the open back door, his feet planted firmly on the concrete step. MJ snatched the controller from his muddy hands. “What did I tell you?”
“But—”
“Don’t argue. Answer the question.”
He raised his chin with the brashness of a six-year-old. “You said to stay outside and I did. The truck went inside.”
She admired his logic but not his attitude. “The truck’s dirty. You can’t play with it in the house.”
“But I washed it. I turned on the hose and—”
“Oh, no.”
She stepped onto the patio, turned to the left, and saw the hose running full force, flooding her mother’s freshly mulched flowerbeds. MJ sloshed through a puddle and cranked the spigot. When the water slowed to a dribble, she faced Cody, still standing at the back door.
When He Found Me (Road to Refuge Book 1) Page 11
