Love and Sorrow (Small Town Secrets Book 5)

by Jade C. Jamison

  Justin even opened the door for me.

  “How are you?”

  “Exhausted—but I’m okay. Did the kids get their homework done?”

  “Yep. And I saved you some pizza. Come sit down and I’ll catch you up.”

  After dropping my coat and purse on the couch, I followed him into the kitchen. He already had a slice of pizza heating up in the microwave by the time I sat down at the table. “Devon went to be at eight-thirty and Sarah at nine.”

  I couldn’t suppress the smile. “I’m impressed. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “And I put a few things in your closet—if you don’t mind.”

  “Things?”

  “A few of my clothes.”

  Once more, my heart warmed. “It’s our closet now, remember?”

  Giving me a small wink, he opened the microwave, delivering a warm slice of pizza to the spot at the table in front of me. “Eat up, Rascal.”

  I touched the crust, but I didn’t pick it up yet. “I forgot to tell you. Child Protection confirmed that Buckley’s definitely skipped town.” I took a bite but as I chewed wondered if I could handle more.

  “You okay with that?”

  “I have to be, don’t I?”

  Justin tapped his fingers lightly on the table. “It might be better for Sarah if you can find a way past this.”

  He was right—but I didn’t feel like I was ready. “I will.” My stomach started gurgling and I knew its contents were coming back up. I barely made it to the trashcan. “Why can’t I keep food down?”

  “Maybe pizza’s a bad idea right now. Want me to make you something different?”

  “No. I think I’ll just go to bed. It’s been a long day.”

  “I’ll come with you, Rascal.”

  Even removing my clothes was a struggle, but it was a comfort having Justin there. He shut off the lights in the house and curled up next to me. Like I often did, though, he got out of bed after a while—but I was giving way to sleep and didn’t have the energy to ask him if anything was wrong.

  Maybe he was already regretting moving in—and I didn’t know if there was anything I could do about it.

  * * *

  A week later, I was feeling better, getting back in the groove—and Sarah seemed healthier and happier day by day. For the first time in over a year, she was drawing, and when Justin hooked up his PlayStation, both kids joined in. I didn’t know when we’d stop the counseling sessions but, for now, they were a regular part of our life, and I wasn’t about to fuck up my daughter’s progress.

  I loved having Justin around more often. I had more time to study and I took the kids to Noreen’s less, both positives.

  But, although Justin had brought more of his things to my house, he hadn’t brought everything. When I asked him why, he gave me a blow-off reason. His lease wasn’t up until the end of December and he had to figure out what to do with his “extra stuff.”

  I didn’t argue.

  And I definitely didn’t say shit when I realized I’d missed my birth control patch the week before. It was the first time I’d ever forgotten. I knew it was because I’d been sick, so it had been the last thing on my mind. Justin and I hadn’t made love much since being sick, so I wasn’t going to worry about it.

  Later that week, Justin and I were riding to school together, something we’d been doing since he’d moved in. For some reason, our conversations had become almost stilted, uncomfortable, and he seemed to talk more to the kids than me.

  Another reason why I already felt like he regretted moving in.

  But I had to try. As I looked out of the passenger window, I said, “Holy shit. I’m craving a cigarette.”

  “Is this the first time since you quit?”

  “No. It’s just the most powerful craving I’ve had. I don’t know why.”

  “Maybe habit. You’re used to smoking on the way to class.”

  “Yeah, I guess. Or maybe I’m really an addict.”

  “Don’t do it, Rascal. It’s not worth getting hooked all over again.”

  “I know that, Justin. I just…wanted to talk about it.”

  He nodded but he didn’t say another word—once more making me feel like there was a wedge forming between us.

  Or maybe it had taken cohabitation for Justin to realize just how fucked up my life was—and he was trying to figure a way out.

  I couldn’t really blame him.

  * * *

  The next day, my mother called. “How is Sarah doing?”

  “Surprisingly well.”

  “I am so glad to hear that, honey. And how are you and Devon?”

  “I, um…I had pneumonia.”

  “You what? Are you all right?”

  “Yes. I guess I had a cold that turned bad. But I promise I’m fine now. I didn’t want to worry you.” Actually, it was more than that—but I wasn’t about to say so.

  “No long-term effects?”

  “Just one. I quit smoking.”

  “Oh, sweetheart. I’m thrilled to hear that.”

  “Thanks, mom.” Did she really mean it?

  “I’m calling about the holidays, honey. Your father and I wanted to make sure you and the kids are planning to visit on Thanksgiving. Do you have Devon then, and does it fit in your work schedule?”

  For some reason, it felt good to actually be invited by my mother. I was smiling when I said, “We’re planning on it. I have Devon this year, and I have it off from work, too.”

  “Wonderful.”

  Now for the moment of truth—and I wasn’t going to pull any punches. “Would it be okay if I brought Justin?”

  I might have just been imagining it, but it seemed like there was a cold silence that lingered—until, at last, my mother spoke, and when she did, she sounded warm enough. “Who’s Justin?”

  Another moment of truth—with myself as much as with my mother. “My boyfriend.” I liked the way that sounded.

  There was another long pause, not so chilly, when she said, “Of course. I think it would be a good idea for us to meet the man in your life. How long have you been dating?”

  My brain did some quick gymnastics because no way was I going to tell my mother we were living together—not yet anyway. As for dating? Well…what we’d done I wouldn’t exactly consider dating. But I needed to say enough to keep her satisfied. “We’ve been together off and on for about a year.”

  The following silence made me feel uncomfortable, as if I were a teenager again. Finally, though, mom asked another question. “Is this the man you had the date with a while back? When the kids stayed with us?”

  Why the fuck did my voice sound so weak? “Yeah.”

  “Definitely bring him with you. Your father and I would like to meet him.”

  A feeling of relief relaxed my muscles. “Great. What time should we be there?”

  “Probably around one, but you can come earlier if you like. Any special dietary concerns we should know about for…Justin?”

  “Nope. He eats just about anything.”

  And, like that, Justin was accepted into my extended family.

  Later on, though, when I told him about it, he simply said, “You want me to meet your parents?”

  Holy shit. That was it. I knew it. He wasn’t happy. He was beginning to regret everything.

  But then an overwhelming calm overcame me as he smiled and said, “All right.” Sarah and Devon also liked the idea. Maybe things were getting better. Perhaps I had something to be thankful for after all.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Requesting Thanksgiving off from work had been a formality. But when I asked, just as a courtesy, Kathy said, “Sorry, Randi, I’ll need you to work a shift on Thanksgiving—and probably Black Friday, too.”

  “Why? You said I could have it off.”

  “That was last month. Thanks to staffing problems, I’ll need you here.” I was fuming, but before I could respond, she continued. “I’m sorry, Randi, but I need you that day.
We have too many new employees—and most of the staff asking for Thanksgiving off covered for you when you were out. You missed a lot of shifts when you were sick, Randi.” As if I were an imbecile, she added, “You remember that, don’t you?”

  “I understand that. I do. But you said you rearranged my schedule since to ‘make up for it.’ I was planning to take my kids to visit their grandparents. Devon doesn’t have to stay with his dad this year—”

  Kathy’s voice was almost a growl, a tone I’d never heard from my boss before. “You don’t seem to be taking your job seriously, Randi.”

  Goddamn. So many curses flowed through my head that I couldn’t even begin to think of a sane retort. After all I’d done for Play It Again—all the extra shifts I’d taken when Kathy had desperately called, all the additional tasks I’d taken on voluntarily to help her out, all the times I’d actually come in and worked when I’d been sick, not to mention when I’d put in fifty-plus hours a week the month Kathy had had her hysterectomy—and this was the treatment I got?

  My mind weighed the possibilities in an instant: I could quit and just walk out, and damned if that wouldn’t feel fucking great. But doing it that way, in a self-righteous huff, would screw me out of getting a good reference, even with my previous history as an excellent employee. Or I could suck it up, just like I always had. I could pick a shift and find a way to make it work even spending part of the day at my parents’ house. As I pondered the options, I didn’t feel comfortable quitting without a backup job, even with Justin’s help.

  Again, before I could respond, Kathy said, “I promise I’ll give you Christmas day off.”

  Yeah…unless something else happened between now and then. I’d fucking been there before. But I shook my head, backed into a corner. Kathy already knew I wasn’t happy. Saying anything would just make it worse. Instead, I asked, “What shifts do you need covered on Thanksgiving?”

  “Just two—opening and closing—but we’re opening later than usual, so the shifts will be shorter.”

  After discussing the particulars, I took the late shift. It meant we’d have to leave before all the Thanksgiving festivities were over, but at least we wouldn’t miss the main meal.

  If I hadn’t needed the job, though…

  By the time I’d finished closing that evening, I’d let go of most of my sour mood—and, when I got home, I was surprised. Although the porch light and a lamp in the living room were on, every other light in the house was extinguished. I peeked in all the bedrooms and found not just my kids asleep but also Justin sprawled across my bed.

  Our bed.

  So I took a quick shower and then curled up next to him under the covers, resting my head on his chest, breathing in the scent of his skin.

  How the hell had I gotten so lucky?

  When Justin spoke, he sounded sleepy. “There’s my Rascal. How was work tonight?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  “What happened?”

  It was late. He was tired. I was tired. So I kept it short and simple. “I have to work a shift on Thanksgiving—so I’m taking the late shift.”

  When Justin sat up, I followed suit. He asked, “Do you want to skip going to your folks’ house then?”

  “No. Maybe. I don’t know. I was thinking we could go anyway and just leave early. I don’t have to clock in till five-thirty.”

  “Whatever you wanna do is okay with me.”

  “Maybe I should sleep on it.”

  Justin’s lips found my neck. “I can help you do that.” My reply was kissing him back as his hands grabbed the bottom of my t-shirt to pull it off my torso. Soon, he helped me forget everything on my mind, even if just for the evening.

  * * *

  Everything in my life was looking up. It turned out the kids were okay with the news that we would have an abbreviated Thanksgiving visit. Classes were getting more intense as we neared the end of the semester, but I was back in the swing of things. Work was good, too, so long as I checked my attitude. Best of all, Sarah’s outlook seemed brighter every day.

  My daughter was healing.

  Even things with Justin were on the upswing. Because he rented a storage facility close to my house, I felt like he was definitely okay with the move by now.

  But I should have seen it coming. It’s like the universe can sense when things with me and my family are good and it intentionally makes sure to put me in my place.

  At least that was what I was thinking on the Monday before Thanksgiving. My periods had always come like clockwork…so when it hadn’t visited by Monday night, I started feeling slightly concerned.

  By Wednesday, I was fucking stressed.

  I couldn’t be pregnant. I was a shitty mother. I didn’t deserve nor did I want the chance to fuck up another kid’s life.

  Maybe it was just late. I’d been really sick lately, and that might have thrown my body out of whack. But there was only one way to be sure. After I picked up the kids up from Noreen’s after work, I asked, “Who wants to make banana splits?”

  “No way!” Devon’s eyes grew large.

  Even Sarah agreed. “Yeah.”

  That was my excuse to swing by the store. After hitting the produce and freezer aisles, we went to the dairy section to grab some whipped cream and then we got to the pharmacy area. It was then that I said, “Oh, guys. We forgot some toppings. Do you want to see if you can find chocolate and—”

  “Strawberry and pineapple? We’re on it.” Sarah took Devon’s hand and they zipped back down the aisles while I snuck into the family planning section. Planning? That was a misnomer if I’d ever heard it. Checking after the fact and knowing you’re probably completely fucked is not a plan.

  But maybe I’d get lucky.

  Quickly, I found a cheap pregnancy test and tucked it in between the bananas and the tub of ice cream—and even grabbed a box of ibuprofen to hide it more. Hopefully, the kids wouldn’t notice. By the time I caught up to them, their arms were loaded down with far more than I’d planned—but plenty to hide my purchase. And just to make sure they wouldn’t look, I gave them a couple of dollars to play the crane machine in the entrance while I paid for everything.

  Even better?

  Once we got home, they were preoccupied with constructing their sweet treats when I slipped away into the bathroom to pee on the stick.

  Except for one thing.

  As I was heading to the bathroom, box wrapped in a plastic grocery bag in my hand, Sarah asked, “What’s the special occasion, mom? You never let us eat stuff like this before dinner.”

  “Every once in a while, I like to spoil you guys.” And I scooted off to the bathroom quickly before they could question my bullshit answer. In a way, though, it was true. I’d done this sort of thing before as a distraction tactic because it worked. By the time I got back from the bathroom, they’d be in sugary bliss, less likely to notice whatever emotion I’d be experiencing.

  After locking the door, I opened the package. Jesus Christ. I hadn’t used one of these in a long time, but it looked like the cheap ones hadn’t changed much. After doublechecking the directions, I sat on the toilet seat and urinated on the stick before waiting the longest sixty seconds of my life.

  Staring at one pink line, I gnawed on my lower lip and then leaned against the door, closing my eyes. But when I opened them, a second faint line started to emerge.

  Oh, God, no.

  I squeezed my eyes shut again, swallowing a pool of saliva in my mouth. Maybe the other line was just a ghost that would go away after a little time passed.

  No such luck, though. At the end of sixty seconds, my fate was sealed, sporting two bright pink lines. There was no mistaking what that meant.

  I was definitely pregnant. Shit, shit, shit.

  Hiding the evidence, I buried the entire kit in the trash can, wrapping it in the grocery bag and covering it with toilet paper. Then I splashed my face with cool water. Until I figured out what to do, I had to pretend everything was normal. I returned to the kit
chen and started looking in the fridge, trying to figure out what to make for dinner.

  “Mom, aren’t you gonna have a banana split?”

  “Maybe later.” I needed to focus. “If you guys want, you can watch something on TV and finish eating those in the living room.”

  Sarah raised her eyebrows while Devon voiced what they were both thinking. “You really are spoiling us, mom.”

  And now I had to concentrate and come up with a plan. Did I keep the baby or not—and, if I decided against it, would I burden Justin with my choice or keep it to myself?

  If I decided to keep the baby…what would I say to him?

  Last but not least, if I needed more time for that decision, how could I act like my normal self in the meanwhile?

  Unfortunately, by the time Justin was home and we all sat down to dinner, the only thing I’d decided was that I needed to tell him either way. While I was the receptacle, he was the sperm donor and deserved to know. Until then, though, I didn’t trust myself to say much of anything.

  Luckily for me, Devon dominated the conversation. It started with a story about his spectacular banana split, followed by the cartoon he and Sarah had watched, and then the video game they’d played till dinner. Although Sarah and Justin talked some, Devon was in charge and I was grateful, because I didn’t have to say shit all throughout dinner, except once in a while to remind Devon to eat or to stop talking when his mouth was full. That was okay. I could do that stuff on autopilot.

  I started cleaning up, putting away leftovers, before everyone was completely done, mainly because I couldn’t force any more food down. Devon asked, “May I be excused?”

  He’d eaten enough—and he’d be guaranteed to eat a whole lot more at my mother’s house tomorrow. “Yes, but don’t forget to scrape your plate.”

  While he was doing as I’d requested, he wanted to find out just how spoiled he was. “Can we play more video games?”

  “Actually, I’ll leave that up to Justin. He might want to watch something on TV.”

  He shook his head. “Go for it, sport.”

  “Awesome.”

  “I’m done, too, mom. I’m gonna play with him.”