by T. I. Lowe
Sophia cleared her throat. “I’m going to get him some water if that’s all right.”
“Sure. Do you mind refilling my glass as well?” Wes reached over and held his glass up. Sophia obliged, but he noticed the pitcher didn’t look steady in her grasp. “Here. Let me.” He took the pitcher and maneuvered filling all three cups without jostling Collin.
No one seemed to be in the mood to share any words, so they sipped their water in silence. The only sounds were the waves rolling in just outside and Collin’s slurps each time he took a pull from his cup.
Collin managed a grown man–size burp, earning a reprimand from his mother. The little guy garbled out, “’Scuse me.” Follow by “I hungwy. You feed me, poo-poo man?” He was so sincere even when calling Wes such a silly name that he immediately nodded and began mentally inventorying the contents of his fridge.
“We need to head home.”
Sophia was suggesting they leave, the exact thing he needed her to do, but his mouth did something it never did. It spoke up. “I have a shrimp and pasta salad. I don’t recall any seafood allergies in his chart.”
“No allergies, but I’m not sure he’ll eat that.” Sophia made a face and tucked a thick lock of brown hair behind her ear. The color reminded Wes of his espresso floors.
“Only one way to find out.” Wes stood and tried setting the boy down, but Collin clung to him like Velcro, so he settled him on his hip and walked over to the fridge.
Once the salad was on the table with plates and forks, Wes led them in prayer. As he took his first bite, he realized this was the first shared meal in the house. His throat thickened at the thought, but he managed to swallow it down and take another bite.
“This kid is a vegetable-eating machine.” He glanced down, and as if on cue, the little guy spit out a chunk of celery before scrunching his face. That was okay, though, because Collin had picked out the cherry tomatoes from both his plate and Wes’s, so he considered that progress.
Sophia pushed the food around her plate without eating any of it. She looked at her son and pulled on a halfhearted smile.
“Poo, I wan’ more of dees.” Collin held up a squished tomato.
“We both know it’s your fault he’s calling me that inappropriate name.” Wes pointed his fork at Sophia before using it to spear several tomatoes and placing them on Collin’s plate. “You need to rectify that.”
Her bright-blue eyes flashed with a little life. “Perhaps the name suits you.”
“It’s in poor taste and, as already stated, inappropriate. You shouldn’t be encouraging your child to call people names.” It was supposed to be in tease, but it somehow turned into a doctor lecture. Not what he was going for at all. And by the looks of Sophia, not the right time either.
She jolted from her chair and picked up Collin just as he fisted a handful of tomatoes. “I’m not a bad mother, Dr. Sawyer.” She had the diaper bag slung over her shoulder and was out the door before he came to terms with his folly.
Hurrying outside, Wes countered, “And I’m not a bad doctor.”
She ignored him, loaded up, and was gone in a flash, leaving only a mangled plant in her wake.
Wes sat on the steps, staring down the road long after the dust she’d kicked up settled. Eventually the frustrating mood dissipated and a faint smile lifted his lips. At least by the time she left, Sophia seemed much more alive than when he’d found her earlier. The shadowy defeated version was something he just couldn’t handle, but that tiny woman all riled up and feisty was a different story.
Considering his good deed done for the day, Wes moved back inside but lingered by the door and peered around. It was truly a beautiful house, but for the past hour or so there had been a breath of life added to it that transformed it into more of a home. Now that Sophia and Collin were gone, the quietness had a heavier quality to it than before.
His eyes caught on the two overstuffed cream sofas with gray and pale-green pinstripes. Neither piece of furniture had ever held a guest—not even Wes—and only emphasized the loneliness trapped within the gray walls.
Shaking off the desolate notion that was his reality, Wes moved over to the table to clear away the dishes. He then made his way into the guest room to straighten it. As he shook out the blanket, a toy car toppled to the floor.
It had taken well over a year into his heartache before Wes learned how to outrun his grief, but something as unassuming as a toy car could still derail those assiduous efforts and cast him right back into it so deeply he felt for sure he’d die of suffocation. Three years suddenly coiled back and sent him to his knees.
Clutching the toy to his burning chest, Wes gasped for air. Air he didn’t deserve. Air that should have been filling his wife and his own son with life. Air that he begged God to take from him so he wasn’t left behind without them.
5
Mahogany . . . endless mahogany. Sophia perused the bookcases, the clunky desk chairs and side tables, until focusing on the desk sitting before her. Everything was in the same glossy shade of mahogany.
“Ms. Prescott,” Mr. Billingsley greeted as he hurried into the office, bearing a thick folder and a grim expression. “I’m sorry we couldn’t meet with you any sooner, but Mr. Prescott’s attorney hasn’t been very cooperative.”
Sophia stood, straightened the navy tailored jacket that matched her trousers, and accepted the portly man’s hand. She shook it firmly enough to convey confidence, just as her dad had shown her long ago before she was to meet the governor after winning first place in the middle school governor’s essay contest. That was a nervous yet exciting day for her. Too bad her current day was just filled with nervousness. Nothing exciting was to come of it if Mr. Billingsley’s demeanor was any indication.
“I understand,” Sophia said, even though she didn’t. She didn’t understood anything. She didn’t understand why she was caught up in the middle of Ty’s financial fiasco since they were divorced. And she definitely didn’t understand why Weston Sawyer had been hospitable on that wretched day last week when she’d made this discovery. But in the days since then, she had willed her thoughts to stay focused on making an IOU list for the groceries and other necessities that her parents had provided, rather than trying to figure out Weston’s kindness and quietly showing up in the midst of an awful moment to help her. It was just lunch and a place to rest, but it had been so much more.
“As of now, we’ve managed to free up your severance from Southeastern, and I advise you to keep a portion in cash on your person and open a new account for the remainder of it.” Her attorney made a grunting sound as he sat behind the desk and began flipping through the file, bringing her attention back to him and the absurd situation. “As for alimony and child support, I’m sorry to tell you there’s no clear indicator when you’ll have access to those funds. It all depends on how the other attorneys proceed.”
“That’s better than nothing, I suppose.” Sophia gave him her most proper smile and head nod as she signed off on the thick stack of documents he slid to her side of the desk.
“I’ve included in your folder recommendations for an accountant. It’s imperative that you do everything by the book, because the IRS will definitely be keeping an eye on you for an indefinite length of time. We have proof that you filed individual tax returns for the last two years, so you shouldn’t be implicated in your husband’s misconduct.”
Once Mr. Billingsley went over the documents and provided her copies, he walked her to the back exit.
“Thank you again for agreeing to meet so early.” She hitched her purse onto her shoulder after fishing out her keys.
“I understand your need for discretion in this situation. You have my card. Don’t hesitate to call if any more reporters show up.”
“I will. Thank you again.” Her careful smile detoured into a frown as she stepped outside and into the thick blanket of fog that looked as heavy as her thoughts. A cursory glance around found no reporters or photographers lurking, so she hurried
over and loaded up into the SUV. Thankfully, it had been purchased outright with cash.
At least it won’t disappear into thin air like my marriage, my career, my money, and my dignity . . .
Sophia rotated her neck, hoping to get rid of some of the pressure, and cranked the SUV. Before she could back out, the Bless This Mess van blocked her in.
“Err! Not today, Opal,” she mumbled and refrained from beating her head against the steering wheel.
Opal wrenched the passenger door open. “Hey, chick!”
Sophia stared at her blankly, not feeling up for pleasantries. “Are you following me?”
“No, silly. I knew you had an appointment.” Opal leaned inside.
“Well, I did and now it’s done, so—”
“I have an appointment too. I need you and Jo to go with me. She’s already in the van, so hurry up.” Opal snapped her fingers.
The only appointment Sophia wanted to be a part of included her bed with the curtains drawn tight. It was Monday, after all. Yet it looked like she wouldn’t be getting her wish. “I can follow you.”
“No, no, no. Just hop in with us. That’ll give us some Sand Queens time.”
Sophia heaved a frustrated sigh, knowing her friend wasn’t going to back down. “As long as you have me back here within an hour.”
“We should be able to make that happen.” Opal closed the passenger door and skipped back to her van.
Sophia gathered her purse and looked heavenward. “Please, Lord, give me strength.”
Ten minutes later, Sophia decided God wasn’t in the strength-giving mood.
“No.” Sophia said the one word with enough terseness that the subject should have been closed, but Opal patiently stood by the open van door and tried coaxing her out.
“But this is all good things. Promise.” She tugged Sophia’s arm.
Sophia yanked her arm free and remained seated. “Opal Cole, you’re up to something.”
“Just come inside.” Opal gestured toward the side entrance to Carolina Pediatrics.
“But Weston Sawyer will be in there.” Just saying his name made a wave of humiliation ripple over Sophia’s already-sensitive nerves.
“Of course. He is the doctor.” Opal laced her fingers with Sophia’s and finally got her out of the van and to the building entrance.
Agnes Nelson let them in and then locked the door behind them. That was when Sophia realized the place wasn’t even open yet. Before she could voice her concerns, Agnes said, “If it isn’t the lovely Sand Queens.” The older lady gave each one a hug and then led them to her office. “Lincoln and August are already inside. Go ahead in and I’ll be right back.”
Sophia caught Josie’s eye and mouthed, “What’s going on?”
Josie shrugged, looking just as confused as she felt. “Maybe there’s another remodel job and they need our help. It’s the only thing I can come up with.”
“Maybe,” Sophia repeated as they walked inside.
“Yo, ladies,” August welcomed on a yawn. He looked right comfy behind Agnes’s desk with his feet propped on the corner and his hands laced behind his head.
Lincoln looked too big for the guest chair in front of the desk. He reached out and pulled Opal onto his lap. She giggled as he wrapped his arms around her.
Sophia would probably have offered an aww over the romantic gesture if she were in a better mood. Instead, she stayed tight-lipped and stood by the wall.
Wes stepped inside with a file tucked underneath his arm and a friendly smile gracing his face. In a tailored charcoal suit and navy tie, the man was what her aunt Matilda would call a GQ cover model. He caught Sophia staring. His lips briefly kicked up on one side before he moved his attention to Lincoln and Opal. “Shall I?” he spoke in that smooth baritone.
“Please.” Lincoln beamed, and that was saying something for the normally brooding man.
“It’s truly an honor that you’ve appointed me to be Baby Cole’s pediatrician. I look forward to meeting him or her early next year.” Wes slid those warm hazel eyes around the room, watching his words sink in.
Sophia gasped, Josie burst into tears, and Opal giggled.
August knocked a tissue box off the desk as his feet hit the floor with a heavy thud. He let out a rumbly whoop before jumping clear over the desk to slap Lincoln on the shoulder and kiss Opal’s cheek.
Sophia rolled her eyes, thinking August Bradford was just too cute for his own good.
“We’re two months along,” Opal supplied as Lincoln caressed her flat tummy.
Wes shook Lincoln’s hand and then Opal’s before leaving the group of friends to celebrate.
As the shock wore off, pure joy replaced it, sending happy tears flooding Sophia’s eyes. “This is awesome! Best news ever! I’m finally going to be an aunt!” She wrapped her arms around Josie, and the two of them squealed like schoolgirls, jumping up and down. After they concluded their happy dance, the women offered congratulatory hugs to Opal and Lincoln.
The celebration stretched out as the couple shared the due date and other details. They’d told their family the prior weekend at a cookout but wanted to share the news with the three friends in a private manner.
Sophia was already planning the baby shower when Agnes stepped inside the office and cleared her throat. “Sophia, may I have a word with you?”
“Umm . . .” Sophia cut Opal a look, knowing the redhead would sneak in some meddling somehow. “Yes, ma’am.”
Everyone exited, but not before bestowing a gamut of silent messages. Josie gave her a sympathetic smile and halfhearted shrug, Opal gave her a spirited wink and thumbs-up, and Lincoln gave her a pointed look that said she better do whatever it was that she was about to be asked to do and not screw it up. August simply offered her a supportive fist bump. Sophia bumped her tiny fist to his paint-stained one while glaring at the other three, who seemed to be in on Opal’s meddling.
Once the door was closed, Agnes took the seat beside Sophia and cut to the chase. “Honey, I need to retire. And from what Opal has shared with me in confidence, you need a job.” She held her hand up to halt the words about to spew from Sophia. “Now hear me out. This job comes with reasonable hours, benefits, and an impressive salary. It’s exactly what a single mom such as yourself needs. I can’t leave Wes without properly filling my position. Not just any ole body will do. I need you.”
Sophia knew there was no choice but to get a job now that Ty up and ruined things. The severance package would maybe keep her afloat two more months at best. But as she glanced around Agnes’s quaint office, she just wasn’t sure this was the best choice for her.
“Wes . . . and I . . . we don’t get along.” Her thumb swept underneath her ring finger as she contemplated the offer.
Agnes chuckled. “Honey, do you think Doc and I have always gotten along while working these past forty years together?” She leaned closer and whispered, “I even got into a little tiff just last week with Wes. He thought his way was better than mine, but we had ourselves a come-to-Jesus meeting and he was seeing it my way by the end of it.” The older lady winked with a good bit of spunk.
Sophia remained serious. “I really do need a job.”
“Then it’s settled.” Agnes glanced at her watch. “We have time to speak with him before the doors open.”
Fifteen minutes later, Sophia and Agnes sat opposite Wes in his office. His fingers steepled in front of him, he listened in silence until the office manager concluded her spiel on why Sophia’s PR background and MBA made her more than qualified for the position.
Wes looked from Agnes to Sophia and then back to Agnes. “No.”
Both women were jolted.
Sophia’s face heated at record speed as the sting of his rejection hit her eyes and nose.
“Why on earth are you saying no?” Agnes clucked her tongue, looking like she was ready to grab him by the ear and place his nose in the corner until he gave the correct answer.
Sniffing back the tears, Sophia wond
ered just how many more blows she could take before giving up completely. She wanted to beg him to give her a break, to overlook the mess of a woman she’d been lately. To assure Wes that the woman he’d met wasn’t her, but she could barely breathe, let alone speak. Another clue she wasn’t her normal self.
“Ms. Prescott caused a scene and disrespected me in front of several patients. She’s also gone on social media to discredit me as a doctor. From what I’ve gathered, she has a substantial following, and you know as well as I do, Agnes, we’ve received more than a handful of phone calls about it. I’ve never been questioned more about my credibility as a doctor in my entire career as I have since arriving here.”
Sophia cringed, wondering how he even knew about the social media incident and how it had gotten so blown out of proportion. “I only endorsed another pediatrician when a new mother on Facebook asked for recommendations. Your name was never mentioned.” Mortified, she watched as he responded by shaking his head.
“I just don’t believe Carolina Pediatrics is the right place for you, Ms. Prescott. Best of luck finding employment elsewhere.” Wes gave Sophia a curt nod before moving his attention to his computer screen, effectively dismissing her.
Agnes sucked her teeth and cast him a withering look. “I have a good mind to walk out on your prickly behind. Wait until Doc gets wind of this.” She waggled a finger at him as she led Sophia out of the office.
Humiliation and indignation followed Sophia out like one of those thunderclouds that follow crestfallen cartoon characters. She loaded up in the back of Opal’s van and glared out the window.
“When do you start?” Opal asked as she drove out of the parking lot.
