by Fredrick, MJ
“I don't know. I can’t read past the grime on this menu.”
Silently, he plucked the menu from her hand and replaced it with his. There was no noticeable grime on the plastic coating, and he refrained from sighing at his mother’s pervasive negative attitude. He was amazed that he and his siblings had emerged remotely normal.
But he wasn't going to let her get to him. He would be out of here in a day or two, once he arranged for someone to come work on the house.
How long would that take?
Chapter Four
LACEY WAS SHAKING WITH exhaustion when she got home. This pregnancy was taking a lot out of her, and she was only a couple of months into it.
And she hadn’t told her dad yet. He was going to be so disappointed in her. But tonight, she was too tired to deal with drama. But that was every night, wasn't it?
“You look done in,” her dad said, from his wheelchair. The hip replacement had gone well, and he should be out of the chair, but he felt more secure in it. She couldn't fault him for that. “Why don't I take you to dinner in town?”
“Oh, Dad.” She didn't want to cook dinner, after cooking dinner already twice today. But the idea of taking him to town, carting around his wheelchair, was overwhelming. She used to do meal prep for herself and her dad, like she did for her patients, but she had been so tired this weekend, she hadn’t done it this week, and now she was regretting the choice.
Maybe she would take him up on the dinner, but dang. The thought of lifting the wheelchair in and out of the car made her back ache.
God, if she was this tired now, how was she going to work when she was nine months pregnant?
“Yeah, okay, we can go.” He was probably tired of being in the house all day himself, and she really didn't want to cook.
To her surprise, her dad hefted himself out of the chair and reached for a nearby cane.
“You don’t want take the chair?”
“No, I don't need it, if you park close.”
That was a relief. She held the door for him and he led the way to her car. “Where are we going?”
“I’m in the mood for a chicken fried steak.”
“Those aren’t good for you.”
“It’s not like I have them every day, and I can bring leftovers home for lunch tomorrow.”
She couldn't argue with that logic, and started the car once his seat belt was buckled.
At least the road from their house to town wasn't too bumpy, because yes, she had to pee again. She thought that would come later, when the baby was sitting on her bladder. But no, she had to go every forty five minutes or so.
She fidgeted in the driver’s seat, and when she got to the restaurant, she made sure her dad was able to get out of the car and across the uneven cracked sidewalk before she bolted inside to the bathroom.
She didn't even notice Mrs. Conover and her son Beck until she was walking back to the table her dad had chosen. Her step stumbled, and she debated briefly over stopping before Mrs. Conover lifted her gaze and met Lacey’s. Her decision was taken away from her.
“Mrs. Conover! How nice to see you out and about.” She glanced at the woman’s dinner of chicken and dumplings and decided not to say anything. She was off-duty. So she refocused her gaze on Beck. He’d been a couple of years older than her in high school, but she recognized him right away.
He was the man who’d pulled her from the water that awful day.
Even so, he had matured into a man even more handsome than he’d been in high school. His dark hair was longer than his dad would have allowed him to wear in high school, his features had sharpened, and dark stubble shaded his strong jaw in the fluorescent lights of the diner. His blue eyes studied her as well. She thrust her hand in his direction.
“I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m Lacey Davila. I’m your mom’s home health nurse now.”
His mouth twisted into a scowl. “The one I’ve been paying to go out and take care of her and the house?”
He’d ignored her hand, so she withdrew it, her own brow furrowing at the attack in his tone. “Yes, I go out three times a week, make sure she’s eating and everything’s clean.”
“We just came from there, and the place is a mess, hasn’t been cleaned in days.”
Her frown deepened. “I haven’t skipped any days, and my contract says I’m there two hours each visit, enough to get her some meals prepared, do some cleaning.” He had to know his mother didn't make it easy for her. She had piles of stuff she wouldn't part with, so Lacey just cleaned around it, swept and mopped, did some laundry once a week, cleaned the bathroom and kitchen. She had a system of what she did and when she did it. The system had been thrown off the other day when she had to come into town for groceries, which ate up an hour of that schedule. As it was, she had stayed longer than usual to get the meals prepped.
“I was thinking of calling your supervisor to report you.”
Of course he was. Why would she think Mrs. Conover’s son would be any kinder than Mrs. Conover herself? She drew herself up.
“Feel free. But I’ve been working with Mrs. Conover for over a year, and you know she doesn’t care for change.” She wanted to add, “Good luck finding anyone she likes,” but the woman was sitting right there. She turned back to the woman, whose own face reddened during the exchange. “Good to see you, Mrs. Conover,” she said, before marching back to her table with her dad.
“What was that about?” her father asked.
The lump in her throat kept her from answering right away. “One of my patients. Her son isn’t happy with my efforts.”
Her father made a noise in his throat. “Conovers. Never grateful for anything. I know how hard you work, and I know how difficult that woman is, just from our few interactions at the church. Surely he knows his own mother. I mean, he hasn’t even been here for years. Who is he to criticize you?”
“I’m not going to take it personally,” she lied, and took a sip of the ice water her dad had ordered for her. Great. She was going to have to pee again in a few minutes. She just hoped the Conovers had left by then. She didn't want another encounter.
“WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING at?” his mother demanded as she dragged her dumpling through the gravy.
“You didn't tell me Lacey Davila was your nurse. I don't know why I pictured someone older.” And he didn't know why he felt guilty now for being mad at her for the condition of his mother’s house.
“She’s younger than you. I think she was in the same class as Conrad. Around that age or so.”
“Yeah, I remember. Married?”
His mother’s gaze snapped to his in the fastest reaction he’d seen from her all day. “Why do you ask?”
“I don't know.” And he didn’t.
She was lovely, sure, with dark hair and dark eyes and full lips, but he had no business thinking about a local girl when he was heading out of town as soon as possible. And he hadn’t been very nice to her...no reason to think she would respond positively to him anyway. But there was something about her that appealed to him. There always had been.
“Don't complain about her,” his mother said abruptly.
“What?”
“You said you were going to complain about her to her employer. Don't do that. She’s a good girl and she works hard. She takes care of a lot of people, and her father just had a hip replacement on top of that.”
He stared at his mom for a moment. He’d never heard her come to someone’s defense before. Maybe Lacey was right, his mom didn't like change. He couldn’t explain otherwise why she was speaking up for Lacey.
“All right, I won’t say anything.” And he should know, if his mother was unhappy with her services, she’d be quick enough to complain.
THE CONOVERS LEFT BEFORE Lacey and her dad, and Beck Conover offered her a nod as he walked past. Was that supposed to be an apology? She didn't have time to think about it. She had been waiting until they left to go to the bathroom again.
Not until she got her dad into the car and was
driving home did he ask, “Is there something you want to tell me?”
Oh, God.
“There is something I want to talk to you about, but not now.” Not while she was driving. Not when she was so tired.
“You know you can talk to me about anything, Lace. We’ve been through a lot together. There’s nothing we can’t do, you know?”
She hated the tears that welled in her eyes, blurring her vision, and she eased her foot off the accelerator. May as well come out with it, instead of trying to find the perfect time. “I’m pregnant.”
“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” he said without missing a beat. She’d expected a long-suffering sigh or something, but his voice was gentle.
“How did you know?”
“Small house. And with four kids, I know the symptoms. Have you told Jesse?”
“I did, and he’s not very happy about it.” That was an understatement. She hadn’t heard from him since she’d told him.
“Maybe he’ll come around,” her dad said.
But she’d already decided to do this on her own. She’d rather have her child know he or she was loved than to be under that man’s thumb. She owed her child the love and support of one parent, one happy parent. She was going to end things with Jesse. She wasn't going to ask him for anything for this child, or herself.
“When are you due?”
“October, I think. I have to make an appointment to see the doctor.” She’d have to go to San Angelo to see an ob-gyn, and she wasn't really looking forward to that trip. “I’m sorry, Dad. I didn't mean for this to happen.”
“Don’t apologize. I know the timing isn’t what you wanted, but this is a good thing, a happy thing. Your mother will be happy to have another grandchild.” The fondness in his voice caught Lacey off-guard.
“I hadn’t even thought about telling her,” she groaned, dropping her head toward the steering wheel before straightening to turn onto the road going home.
“Why not? When was the last time you talked to her?”
“Christmas.”
“Lace. I don't want you to have that kind of relationship with your mother. I want you to be close.”
Her parents had divorced a dozen years ago. His mother had remarried, lived in Houston, and her younger siblings lived near her. The opposite side of the state may as well be the other side of the world.
“I’ll tell her after I go to the doctor and have a better idea of when.”
Now he did sigh. “I guess that makes sense.”
“I’m not telling anyone until I absolutely have to,” she said. “I don't want everyone talking.”
“They’re going to. It’s a small town, and they don't have anything else to do.”
“I hate that my child is going to be judged for my mistake.”
“Lace.” He put his hand on her arm. “You know you don't have to stay here. You can go to San Antonio, or Houston, anywhere. You don't have to stay on my account.”
“For that matter, you don't have to stay here, either.”
“I like it here. I like the house, I like the landscape, I like the people, for the most part.” Once he’d retired from the Air Force, he’d gone to work for the power company, but he was on medical leave from that now. He was also on the town council, and he loved being an integral part of the town he’d chosen.
She pulled into the driveway. It was a good house. Bright and cheery. She’d moved back in when Jesse was deployed because her dad needed help, and it just made sense to save the money. And while she’d been afraid she would fall into the old patterns of childhood, she hadn’t. She found it really peaceful, actually.
She didn't know if there was room for her child, though. She was going to have to start thinking about that. Her father had turned the bedroom her brothers had shared into his office. She was in her old bedroom, the one she’d shared with her sister. She didn't want to ask for extra space for the baby, but she also worried about living alone with a newborn.
She walked around the car to help her dad out, but instead of leaning on her as he’d been doing, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her head to his shoulder. The scent of him brought so many comforting memories that she let go of the tension she’d been holding onto, and burst into tears, soaking the sleeve and front of his shirt with them. He cupped his hand around the back of her head.
“We’ve got this. We’re going to make this a happy thing. We’re going to welcome your baby and make him or her the most spoiled little baby in Broken Wheel. In Texas. We’ve got this, Lace.”
Chapter Five
HOLY HELL, BECK WAS not having any luck hiring anyone to come out to his mom’s. Most stated that they were overworked, or that her house was too far. Not like he had a huge selection to choose from, about four guys in town, since a lot of men had left town to go make money in the oil fields.
He needed to get to Las Vegas by Thursday night at the latest, and he was fifteen hours away. He was just going to have to do what he could the next two days himself, head to Vegas tomorrow afternoon, then come back later if he could.
The problem with that plan was that Riley was heading to California next, and Beck couldn't exactly fly back to Broken Wheel. There were no airports within two hours of here. Yeah, there was an airfield, but even Riley didn't have money for a private plane, and Beck wouldn’t ask for it, anyway.
So he had a day and a half to figure something out, to prioritize what needed to be done in the house.
Plumbing inspection first, just to make sure his mother was able to use the toilet safely without falling through the damn floor. Then there were those boards on the front porch. He didn't think she went outside all that much, but he didn't want her to go through, either.
Okay. He’d figure out how to tighten up the toilet first, fix the leak on the sink and tub that were leaving rust stains on the enamel.
He headed to the only hardware store in town. He hadn’t been to Nazareth Hardware in years. The place showed some neglect, considering they sold all the supplies they’d need to fix it up. The overhang was sagging on a post that was warped and unpainted. The front windows, all glass, were dusty and pitted from the desert sand blowing against them.
He pushed in the glass door that dragged along the concrete floor, making a racket of the stiff, discordant bell that hung overhead. He tried to disguise the fact that the sound made him jump, but he was pretty sure the three men standing at the corner saw.
Beck squinted as his eyes adjusted to the dim light, since the dirty windows didn't allow much natural light to sneak in. He didn't recognize the men right off, though he was sure he knew them.
“Beck Conover?” one of the men asked. “That you?”
He didn't know the voice at first, but as his eyes adjusted, his stomach dropped.
“Sheriff Talamantez,” Beck returned the greeting in as even a voice as he could. He hadn’t done anything wrong, this time. “How are you, sir?” He extended his hand, remembering how the older man liked the formality.
“Not sheriff anymore, you can relax.” The older man’s face creased in an attempt at a smile. Beck wouldn't know a smile from him, anyway. He’d never given the man a reason to be kind. The man had never seen him at his best.
Beck glanced at the other two men—Mr. Nazareth, the owner of the hardware store, who’d inherited it from his dad, and Mr. Davila, Lacey’s dad.
“Haven’t seen you in some years,” Sheriff—no, Mr.—Talamantez said. “You still serving?”
“No, I did my five years and came home. I’m a mechanical engineer for NASCAR now, for Riley Davidson.”
“Sure, I know who that is,” Mr. Talamantez said. “You come by to see your mom?”
“Yeah, and the house isn’t in great condition. I can’t find anyone who’ll do the work for me, so I’m going to get a few things to shore it up until I can get back.”
“Who’d you ask to go out there?” Mr. Davila asked.
“I talked to Trey Lopez, Lupe Saldivar and even Fran
k Perales. Everyone said they were too busy to go. Had too much work to do. I’m no fool, I know my mom can be a challenge, but I don't have much time before I need to be in Vegas.”
“Yeah, well, if you talked to those guys, I don't know who else would be able to do the job,” Mr. Nazareth said.
“Like I said, I’m going to get done what I can. I may have to hire someone from out of town, pay for their lodging or whatever. I can’t get it all done by myself. And if no one wants to work...” He shrugged. Maybe the men would pass the word that he was willing to pay a lot. Maybe then someone would be willing to work for his mother.
“They teach you how to build in the, what was it? Army?”
“I’m an engineer. I know what to do.” Mostly. He just didn't want to do it.
“If you need any advice, let us know. The advice I’m good at. The actual work, not so much.”
BECK PULLED UP IN FRONT of his mother’s house with a truck full of lumber and a new toilet. The old men might have said they weren’t up to doing the work, but they sure loaded his truck with his supplies fast enough.
He looked up at the house for a moment, waiting for his mother to come out with her shotgun. When she didn’t, he became slightly alarmed. He didn't want to startle her so she’d shoot him at close range. So he stomped as loudly as he dared on the front porch before banging on the door, then opening it, braced to spring out of the way if she had the gun nearby.
“What are you making all that racket for?” she demanded from the shadows.
A quick glance told him the gun was in its place on the rack on the wall. He relaxed marginally.
“I didn't want you to shoot me if I surprised you.”
“You couldn't have possibly surprised me with all that racket.” She heaved herself out of her chair and lurched toward the door. “What are you doing here?”
“Well, I thought I’d fix that wobbly toilet, first thing, so you don't fall through before I can get someone out here.”
“You’re going to fix it?”
