“Just you?”
“Yeah. She’d do stuff with Ann and the kids all the time. She just didn’t want to be alone with me.”
“That is strange. What do you think it means?”
“I don’t know. I just chalked it up to tween behavior. What are you thinking?”
“I have no clue. The counselor at the school suggested I get her into therapy.”
“Like a psychologist?”
“Yeah. That’s part of why I was calling. I need to find someone who’s in your insurance network.”
“I can text you the website.”
“Thanks. I’d appreciate that.”
“I think if you stay in network, it’s just a copay.” After a brief pause, he asked, “Do you need help covering that?”
“No, I, um, I think I can handle that.” The man already paid child support. Asking him for more would have felt rude.
“What else can I help with?”
“I can’t think of anything at the moment. Thanks. I’ll let you know if I think of anything.”
“Look…I know we’re not the best of friends anymore, but Sarah is important to both of us. I want you to know I’ll do whatever it is you need me to.” He sighed so loudly, I could hear it through the phone. “Damn. I wish I was closer.”
For the first time ever, I agreed. “Me, too. Thanks a lot, Kent. Just knowing that helps. Really.”
“Keep me posted, okay?”
“Yes, absolutely. Thanks again.”
When I hung up the phone, my hands had stopped shaking and the tightness I’d felt in my chest had eased off—but I wanted another cigarette. Although I had more calls to make, the hardest one was now behind me.
And it hadn’t been nearly as difficult as I’d expected.
* * *
As I scrolled down the webpage of preferred providers under Kent’s health plan, I wondered which fucking psychotherapist to choose. There were several here just in podunk Winchester who specialized in child psychology, so I had no idea who to pick. Draw straws? Close my eyes and point to one? Even the star ratings given by other patients merely muddied the waters. I finally called Sarah’s physician to ask for a referral. The receptionist said she’d talk to the doctor and get back with me.
While waiting for the phone to ring, I chain smoked but checked on Sarah occasionally. My daughter had fallen back asleep on top of her bed, clothes still on. Finally, I started pacing around the kitchen, keeping myself busy with little chores like watering the neglected plants and wiping out the microwave. I should have been reading for classes, but I knew I couldn’t fucking concentrate right now. I got to the point where I felt completely stir crazy, and I’d already smoked way too many cigarettes, so I began washing the off-white cabinets and walls in the kitchen as an excuse to occupy myself. I’d started preparing lunch and was going to wake Sarah up when the doctor’s office finally called back. She recommended two different child psychologists in town, and after I hung up, I looked at the list. Only one was a preferred provider in Kent’s insurance plan, which meant that was the only one I could afford.
Lunch could wait.
I dialed the office of Rebecca Hopkins, LPC, RPT and waited for an answer.
“River View Mental Health.”
“Hi. I need to set an appointment for my daughter with Rebecca Hopkins.”
After giving the woman on the line Sarah’s insurance info, I waited while she put me on hold. Walking back to the counter, I started cutting the sandwiches I’d made in half, placing them on plates until she came back on the line.
“Ma’am? Dr. Hopkins has an opening on Friday at 10 AM. Would you like me to schedule your daughter then?”
“Yes, please.” I’d have some rearranging to do, but it was necessary. I couldn’t drag my feet now that I knew this was what had to be done.
I turned the burner on the stove off so the soup wouldn’t boil over, and then I checked on Sarah again. Still fast asleep.
Then I went outside and lit another cigarette before making one other call.
“Play It Again. John speaking. How can I help you?”
“John, this is Randi.”
“What’s up?”
“I need to talk to Kathy. Is she there?” Although I had my manager’s cell phone, I much preferred to speak with her when she was officially on the clock.
“Yeah. Just a minute.” When he set the phone down, I took a moment to take down a deep drag of smoke.
Soon, I heard Kathy’s voice coming through my phone. “Randi, how’s your daughter?”
“That’s actually why I’m calling. She has an appointment with a child psychologist on Friday morning, so I wondered if I could switch my shift with someone else.” My gut clenched while I waited for her response.
“Is everything okay?”
“Not really. I’m worried about her. She set a fire at school yesterday.”
“Oh, dear God. Was anybody hurt?”
“No. But the school counselor thinks there’s something going on with Sarah that she’s not telling us.”
“Could be. I hope the psychologist helps. Look, I was closing Friday night. If you want to switch shifts with me, I could open the store for you.”
“Yeah, that would be great. Four o’clock?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you so much, Kathy. I really appreciate it.”
“Hey, do I need to remind you we’re family here? We’ll make it work. Don’t worry about it, okay?”
While I thanked her, I knew she could talk a good game—but I’d experienced different results in the past. Still, for now, I’d take it.
However, that brought me to yet another call.
I dialed Noreen. While I could have run across the street to chat with her, I preferred to keep contact with her at a minimum, because she was often quite clingy, leading me to believe she didn’t have many friends. When she answered, I said, “Hey, Noreen, I wanted to ask you for a favor.”
“Sure.”
“I need to take Sarah to the doctor Friday morning, so now I have to work that night. Would you be able to watch her Friday night?”
“Oh, hon, I’m sorry. I’ve got plans.”
That sucked.
She asked, “Does it have anything to do with what happened yesterday?”
“Yeah.” And because I knew Noreen would ask me about it if I didn’t cut her off at the pass, I added, “I’ll have to tell you about it sometime. But would you be able to watch Sarah during the day tomorrow? She’s not in school the rest of the week.”
“Yep, I can do that.”
I thanked her and got myself off the phone as quickly as I could, before Noreen started gossiping about her neighbors next door.
But now I had another problem. Noreen’s inability to watch Sarah Friday night meant only one thing: I’d have to ask my parents if they could keep my daughter. Devon wasn’t a problem as he’d be with his dad. What was sad was that Sarah was actually reaching the age where I could have left her home alone—but events of late made me hesitant. Sure, right now she was sleeping as if she were in a coma, but just yesterday she’d been setting fires, meaning I would only be able to concentrate on work if Sarah were under adult supervision.
Just the thought of talking to my mother made my stomach clench.
Taking a long drag on the cigarette, I then called my parents’ house. They both had cell phones but rarely used them, and my mother preferred talking on the landline.
When she answered, my stomach knotted up again.
“Hey, mom.”
“How’ve you been, honey?”
“Better.”
“What do you mean? What’s wrong?” The tone of my mother’s voice changed, and I was hit with a sudden revelation: the only time I called my parents was when something was going wrong. I rarely called them when something good happened. Sure, I invited them to Devon’s kindergarten graduation and the art and science fair Sarah had entries in last year—but how often did I simply call and chat?
It was something I’d have to work on after Sarah was taken care of.
“Sarah has a doctor’s appointment Friday, so now I have to work the night shift then. That would have been okay, except my babysitter can’t watch her…so I was wondering if you and dad would be able to keep her overnight.” It would be inconvenient, sure, since my parents had moved out of Winchester years ago, so I’d have to make a trip—but Sarah was worth it.
“Honey, I wish we could, but we already have plans. Some friends of ours are celebrating their fortieth wedding anniversary—it’s been in the works for months. And he has cancer. They’re not sure if he’ll make it through the chemotherapy he’s starting next week. So this is very important. We can’t miss this.”
“Yeah. I understand.”
“Is Sarah okay?”
After all that, I wasn’t ready to tell her what was going on—not yet. “Yeah.”
“I’m sorry, dear. I wish we could help. Do you have someone else who can watch her?”
“Yeah,” I lied. “I’ll figure it out.”
“How’s everything else going? How’s school?”
“So far, so good.” God, I talked a good game, but already I was shutting myself off. And in that pregnant pause, my mother worked up the courage to say what had been on her mind.
“Randi, your father and I have been talking. Wouldn’t it be easier for you to concentrate more easily on school if you and the kids were living with us?”
Of course, it would—but I wasn’t ready to give up my freedom. “Mom, I appreciate the offer.” I sucked down the last bit of cigarette before adding, “Let me think about it, okay?”
“I wish you would. I want you to really ponder how it could change your lives for the better.”
I paused, no longer willing to give her knee-jerk answers. I’d blown off the offer so many times, I hadn’t tried to think of the positives a change like that could make.
But my mother had.
“Honey, all we’d ask is for help with the groceries. And, of course, you’d have to take care of your car, insurance, the kids’ clothes. But you wouldn’t have to worry about a mortgage or utilities. Your father and I could watch the kids so you wouldn’t have to worry about a babysitter or picking them up from school—I could do that.” The line was silent for a moment. “We’d really like to help if you’d let us.”
“Mom, thanks. I really appreciate it. I promise I’ll think about it.”
“Please do, sweetheart. You could focus on school instead of trying to work it around your job and everything else.”
“Thanks, mom.”
“Well…give our love to Devon and Sarah, okay? Tell them grandma and grandpa miss them.”
“I sure will.”
“And I’m sorry about Friday night. If I could do something during the day for you instead—”
“It’s okay, mom. Really.” After a second, I added, “Sorry, mom, but I gotta go now.”
“I love you, Randi.”
While I told my mother I loved her back as I hung up the phone, I was actually thinking ahead to my next move, because I still had a problem.
I had one solution left, one ace in the hole…but I fucking loathed using it.
Devon’s father, my ex-husband, Mike Simpson. Sarah was his stepdaughter, and even though they hadn’t spent time together in eons, he might be willing to watch her.
Especially if I managed to catch him in a good mood. Sure, he might hold it over my head later, figure out a way to manipulate the situation but, for now, I had to try.
My fingers started shaking as I scrolled for his number in my cell. It had been four years since our divorce but still merely thinking about him made me uneasy. Nauseous.
Anxious.
Getting his voicemail didn’t help with my overwrought nerves, and I thought some of texting instead, but just spitting it out might be easier. “Hey, Mike, this is Randi. I hate to bother you, but I wanted to ask if you could do me a favor. I have to take Sarah to a doctor’s appointment on Friday, and I had to switch my shift so I’ll be working that night. I was just wondering—since you’ll have Devon that night already—if you’d mind watching Sarah for a few hours, too, just until I get off work. Um, let me know. Call me when you can. Or text. I’ll be home most of the day.” I finished up by thanking him and saying goodbye, but suddenly I felt dirty and slimy, so I tried to shake those emotions while I finished up the cigarette.
Afterwards, I went back to the kitchen. I’d been on the phone so long I had to rewarm the soup before spooning it into the bowls and, when I touched the bread on the sandwiches, it was still fresh, but any longer and the bread would have started feeling dry. Then, sucking down a deep breath and trying to change my mindset so I’d sound like a kind, loving mother, I walked down the hall and through the open doorway into Sarah’s room. Sitting on the edge of her bed, I began stroking her hair. “Sarah, honey. Time to wake up. I made some lunch.”
As Sarah stirred, she partway opened her eyes, smiling at me ever so slightly as she sat up. I smiled back as I realized this was the first time in months I’d seen my daughter without a frown.
That was something, wasn’t it?
Chapter Four
When we got home from picking up Devon, Sarah sat on the living room couch and occupied herself with tracing a small hole in the knee of her jeans with her index finger. Devon sat at the kitchen table doing his homework, quite proud that he actually had some nowadays. Today, he had a sheet of subtraction problems to practice his new math skills.
As of this moment, his father Mike had not called back—which meant I needed to keep myself busy. After starting a load of laundry, I went to the kitchen and started dinner prep. Just as I started chopping an onion, my cell rang—and I saw it was Mike, so I quickly wiped my hands on my jeans and swiped the phone icon. Mike’s deep voice boomed through the phone, filling me with a mixture of relief and dread all at once.
“So you need me to watch Sarah ‘cause you have to work. You sure it’s not ‘cause you got a date?”
Already my blood pressure was rising from this brief interaction. “I’m sure—and I wouldn’t have even asked you, but my babysitter and my parents aren’t available. You were pretty much my last resort.”
“Thanks. Makes me feel good about myself.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. “I didn’t mean it that way, Mike—but I wanted you to know I had nowhere else to turn. There’s no one else I trust with Sarah.”
“I don’t know why you’re so overprotective of those kids, Randi. They’re going to grow up someday, whether you like it or not.”
He didn’t even know the half of it—but this was typical Mike. “Look, can you do it or not?”
“Yeah. I guess. But don’t complain if I take them out for Happy Meals.”
Asshole. I hated when he fed that shit as a constant diet for Devon, and when my son would return from visits with his dad, he wouldn’t want to eat my cooking for a couple of days. Mike knew how much it pissed me off because I’d asked him to limit those shitty foods and he refused. But, I supposed, if that was the worst he did as a dad, he was all right. Hands down, he was a much better father than husband. “Fine.”
“Randi, you know I don’t cook. I said I’d do it, okay? Don’t bust my balls about it.”
“All right.” As an afterthought, I added, “Thanks. See you Friday.”
“I’ll be there around six.”
“Could you be here earlier? I have to be at work by four.”
“I can’t.”
Damn it. I was tired of trying to figure out new detours—but I managed one more. “I guess I could take the kids to work with me for an hour or so. Can you pick them up there?” As he started to hem and haw, I asked, “Or what if I brought Devon to you? Could I bring him earlier?”
Mike was grunting in protest when Devon looked up from the table, bright-eyed. “Is that my dad? Can I talk to him?”
“Devon wants to talk to you for a minute.”
Eagerly, Devon took the phone and all but yelled into it. “Hey, dad!” While Devon chatted, I peeked in the living room at Sarah—who actually reached over to pick up the remote off the coffee table to turn the TV on.
That was something, at least.
So I got back to working on dinner until Devon said, “Okay, dad. I can’t wait. Mom, dad wants to talk to you again.”
As I brought the phone to my ear, I kept my voice as calm as possible. “Yes?”
When Mike spoke this time, he almost sounded pleasant. “Go ahead and bring the kids by before four. I’ll be home.”
“Are you sure?”
“I said it, didn’t I?”
“Thanks. See you Friday.” I hung up before he could say anything else.
Devon sat at the table, his eyes still glowing from the conversation with his dad. “Mom, I have to read now. Are you ready to time me?”
“Sure.” I glanced at the clock to note the time and resumed chopping the onion as Devon started reading aloud from the little book he had at the table. My little guy was a good reader, so I usually didn’t have to pay close attention, which was probably a good thing this evening. And I was thrilled he enjoyed reading, because although I was glad he loved his dad, I didn’t want him growing up to be like him.
While Devon read aloud, my mind wandered back over that failed relationship. At first, I’d been attracted to Mike’s macho alpha-male attitude, but that was the only side there was to the guy—and, over time, he grew abusive to boot. I didn’t want to become the woman who died at the hands of the jealous man she loved. After several years apart, I now had a hard time figuring out what I’d ever seen in the guy.
Lost in thought, I accidentally tuned my son completely out until I heard his voice change pitch. “Mom? Mom!”
As if to wake myself up, I shook my head, realizing the onion I’d meant to chop was instead minced. “What, honey?”
“Has it been ten minutes yet?”
Oh, shit. More than. “Yes. You’re done, sweetheart.”
Love and Sorrow (Small Town Secrets Book 5) Page 4
