by Leah Atwood
Until she’d seen that group. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly why the brief encounter—if it could be called that—had unsettled her. Was it because she saw peace in their faces? Realness in their expressions?
Casting her thoughts aside, she undressed from her work clothes. The memory made her uncomfortable in ways she couldn’t explain, so she’d decided the best way to deal with it was to not think about it.
She pulled the blouse over her head then stepped into her skirt. The zipper wouldn’t close, and she sucked in her stomach to make it up that final inch. She exhaled when she finally fastened it all the way and vowed to lay off the caramel frappes, no matter how good they were.
Typically, she only had the treat occasionally, but she’d been so tired lately she’d grabbed one for breakfast on her way to work every day this week. She could have had straight coffee instead, but July’s heat and humidity were especially brutal this year, and the cool drink offered refreshment with the much-needed caffeine. Too bad her waistline didn’t recognize those benefits.
Tomorrow she’d get to the gym and work off the extra calories from the week. She examined her reflection in the mirror, relieved to see the extra weight didn’t show on her face at all. Her round face didn’t allow for extra pounds, or even ounces, without appearing bloated.
She removed the barrette from her hair and ran a brush through the wavy, chestnut locks. With her energy level already low, she decided not to straighten her hair tonight. She set the brush down to cover a yawn. Maybe she should cancel for the night, but Liz would never forgive her for missing her thirtieth birthday celebration.
One slow action at a time, she continued getting ready. She applied her makeup, giving her eyes a dramatic, smoky appearance then finished it with a thick stroke of black eyeliner. Once she was completely ready to go, she checked herself in the mirror and decided she looked much better than she felt. She smiled and gave herself a pep talk until she was convinced that going out tonight presented a better option than staying home.
Another sigh escaped her after the short walk to her car. As she settled into her seat, she adjusted the radio to a top-forty station. Anything to inject energy into her weary body, which she blamed on her job. She worked in payroll for the school system—a position that normally had her behind a desk. However, her office was being moved to a different location within the building, and she’d spent a large portion of her week transferring all her items from one office to the other. It didn’t help that the elevator had been broken for half the week.
Although she was fairly certain that was the root cause of her exhaustion, if the tiredness persisted after the weekend, she’d make an appointment with her doctor. A few years ago she’d had a similar experience, and it turned out her iron was low. A change of diet and a few weeks of iron supplements later, she was as good as new.
Traffic flowed heavy but steady as she crossed town to Liz’s house off Piney Green. When she pulled up to the driveway, she only saw Rysa’s car. She and Tammy probably carpooled since they lived in the same apartment complex. She parked behind Rysa, and peeked in the garage at Liz’s Cherokee on her way to the front door.
Rysa answered the door. “Come on in. Liz is still getting ready, and we’re waiting for Kylie, Jayla, and Emma.”
“Did Tammy come with you?” she asked as she slid into the house.
Rysa nodded. “She’s on the deck on the phone with Todd.”
“I thought they broke up?”
“They might get back together.” Rysa rolled her eyes. “That’s all I heard about on the way over.”
“He’s a cheating jerk. I hope she doesn’t take him back.”
“I agree.” Rysa winked. “Most men are, though, which is why I prefer to stay unattached.”
Sybil laughed and checked her hair in the foyer mirror. “You and me both.”
She made light of it, but she wouldn’t even know what to do in a relationship. In her experience, from her mom and her own attempts at relationships in years past, men didn’t stay. They took what they could, then left without a backward glance. Why should she subject herself to that?
Rysa nudged her. “Where’d that frown come from? None of that allowed.”
“Just a fleeting thought.” She put a smile back on her face. “Do you like this shade of lipstick? It’s the one I ordered from Jayla’s party last month.”
“I love it.”
“Thanks. I wasn’t sure about a shade so vivid as pomegranate, but I was surprised how much I like it.”
“Girl, you’re going to turn heads tonight.” Rysa linked arms with her. “I’m so jelly of your legs. I run six miles a day, minimum and can’t get mine that toned.”
“Genetics.” Sybil smirked. “The one good quality Mom passed on to me.”
Liz glided down the steps, dressed in an outfit too revealing, even for Sybil’s taste. The skimpy red dress left nothing to the imagination. Liz winked and waved a hand over the length of her body. “You only turn thirty once, right?”
“New perfume?” The heady aroma hit Sybil the wrong way.
“A present from my mom, sent straight from Paris. She said it’s the scent of the season.”
Musky amber further invaded Sybil’s nostrils, creating a wave of nausea. Her stomach rolled, and she ran to the half bathroom in the hall. She’d barely closed the door and lifted the toilet lid before her stomach emptied in a violent expulsion.
What’s wrong with me? Never in her life had a perfume caused a reaction like that. She owned a similar scent and loved it.
A knock rattled the door, followed by Rysa’s voice. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.” She stood upright on weak legs and used a tissue to wipe her mouth.
The door opened, and Rysa slid in. “What’s going on? Your face turned as gray as your shirt.”
Sybil shrugged. “I must be coming down with something. I’ve been tired all week, but thought it was from moving into a new office.”
Liz popped her head in the bathroom, a scowl on her face. “Are you ready to go? Everyone else is here now.”
Gee, thanks for the concern.
“We’ll be right out.” Rysa closed the door, shutting Liz out. “I’m sorry. Liz has many great qualities, but compassion isn’t one of them.”
“It’s all right.” She wouldn’t admit how deep Liz’s lack of care hurt, but why should she expect differently? Liz was a good friend, but had a selfish streak to the sun and back. Over the years, Sybil had learned to accept her flaws. After all, no one was perfect.
“No, it’s not.” Rysa darted a glance to the door then settled her gaze on Sybil. “We need to get out before she goes into meltdown mode, but real quick, is there any chance you could be pregnant?”
She shook her head with surprise and vehement denial. “What? No. Why would you think that?”
“Tiredness, random vomiting. And I haven’t seen you eat pizza lately, which is your go-to comfort food during certain days of the month. My sister had all the same symptoms.”
“Oh no.” Sybil’s legs gave out, and she sank to the toilet as she realized Rysa could be correct. “The night before the tornado.”
Rysa wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Why don’t you go home and rest. Take a test, so you’ll know one way or another.”
“Liz would never forgive me.”
“She’ll get over it. Besides, she’d be more annoyed if you got sick while we were out and we had to leave early.”
Sybil rolled her eyes. “Sad, but true.”
“I’ve got your back if she starts anything.” An understanding smile graced Rysa’s face.
“Thanks. I think I will go home.” Now that the possibility had been planted, she had to know.
She excused herself, ignoring the glare from Liz. Some friend. Rysa’s actions had proved her a better friend than Liz ever had been, causing Sybil to question her choices. Was her friendship with Liz another defense mechanism to keep distance from people?
The possibility of a pregnancy pushed aside any other thoughts and deliberations. Weighed down with anxiety, her body stiffened. Mechanical movements got her to her car and then to the pharmacy.
From the safety of her car, she stared at the poster-sized ads on the store windows. The enlarged photos of diapers and canisters of formula celebrating the lowest prices of the season on baby items taunted her.
A drop of rain landed on her windshield, then another.
“What in the world?” She peered out her windshield at the blends of violet and vermilion clouds hovering among the remnants of the day’s blue sky. “Where is it coming from?”
The rain continued, falling at a steady pace now. She looked out her window and saw a single rain cloud above her car. “Of course.”
She waited out the shower and five minutes later, grabbed her purse and ran inside. Overwhelmed, she stood by the front register and traveled her gaze from one side of the store to another.
An employee approached her. “Can I help you find something?”
“No, thank you.” Sybil felt her cheeks flush. She’d find it on her own—no need to advertise her potential predicament.
She took her best guess at which aisle stocked the pregnancy tests and found them on her second stop. Who knew so many choices existed? Her heart thumped against her chest as she reached for a two-pack of one that spelled out the results. Regardless of the first results, she’d want a second test for confirmation.
On her way to check out, she grabbed a pack of toilet paper, a bag of candy, a new bottle of shampoo, and several Independence Day items on clearance. Not that she needed any of it, but she didn’t want the pregnancy test to stand out. The more items she could bury it under, the better.
She overestimated how much she could carry and juggled the items in her arms. When she came to the register, something slipped from the bottom of the pile, landing on the counter. She cringed when she realized the test has escaped her grip. What she’d desperately tried to hide was now on display for all to see.
Okay, so only the cashier in front of her saw it, but that was one person too many. She hurried to drop the other items on top of the box and refused the make eye contact with the store associate. After she paid, she mumbled, “Have a good day,” snatched her bags from the counter and hurried back to her car.
The ride home seemed to take forever, although she made it to her house in record time, not hitting any traffic or red lights. She pulled up to her mailbox which she’d forgotten to check earlier. Anything to prolong finding out the results. She dragged her feet as she walked to her front door. In a few minutes, her life might change forever.
She wasn’t ready to know.
But she had to.
Chapter Three
Jared fought Denver traffic on I-25. Every delay prolonged his arrival home that much longer.
Home.
The single word settled his anxious heart. He’d been gone for nearly a decade, but Weatherton, Wyoming would always be home. The few days’ visits he’d had sporadically since enlisting would never be enough to fill the void.
He needed the wide-open spaces and blue skies that stretched for miles on end. He craved the small-town atmosphere where time stood still in a place where neighbors cared for each other and people showed respect for everyone, no matter their differences.
If he were honest, he even missed the gossip mills fueled by old ladies with good intentions, and the brutal winters that brought whipping winds and feet of snow.
Because home was home, and he’d take the good with the bad.
He hadn’t told his mom or sister that he was coming. Until he’d left Louisiana after Evan and Janie’s wedding, he hadn’t been sure he’d come.
A part of him feared he put too much stock in coming home. Evan and Janie, even Wyatt, had agreed a change of scenery would be the best course to help him recover. Jacksonville held too much temptation, too little accountability.
His family, however, knew nothing about his behavior of late. As far as they knew, he was still their favorite son: upstanding citizen, a combat veteran, and a hero for serving his country. If they only knew the truth and how far he’d fallen.
But he was determined to change, to put the past behind him once and for all. He hadn’t touched a drop of beer or whiskey since that night before Evan had picked him up and taken him to his truck. Only sheer will had kept him sober, but every day he found it harder to resist.
When Evan and Janie’s wedding fell at the beginning of his terminal leave, he’d decided to spend the rest of August in Weatherton. Yet, that would require an explanation to his mom and sister. What would they think of him?
A smile settled on his face. They’d take him into their arms and tell him they loved him, that they’d be there to support him in any way they could. He knew unequivocally that his mom and Cara would stand by his side, even if they disagreed with the wrong turn he’d taken.
Sooner than he expected, Denver reflected in his rearview mirror. He continued north, and when he crossed into Wyoming, he rolled down his windows to breathe in the air. Won’t be long now. His mom’s return to Weatherton after living in New Mexico for several years made visiting his family easier. During the New Mexico years, he’d always been torn on where to spend his leave time. He’d wanted to see his mom, but Cara needed him.
He reached Cheyenne, which blessedly had little traffic, especially compared to what he’d driven through in Denver. His exit approached, and he headed west toward Weatherton. He could have stopped to fill his fuel tank and pick up a drink for his parched throat, but he had enough diesel to make it home and a warm bottle of water to drink. The closer he got, the more desperately he wanted to be there.
Memories of his last trip to Weatherton flooded his mind. Forever and a day ago, it seemed, but man, the trip had been a blast. He’d picked his mom up from the airport, and they’d surprised Cara on Christmas Eve. The visit had turned into a celebration of Cara’s engagement to Jase McCade, and then an impromptu wedding.
Cara insisted she couldn’t get married without him present, but he wouldn’t be able to come home again until after the deployment. Neither Cara nor Jase wanted to wait that long, so they’d decided to marry New Year’s Eve.
Their two-year anniversary was in a few months, and Jared hadn’t seen them since. After that final deployment, he couldn’t bring himself to go home. He hadn’t been alone. Wyatt and Evan had stayed in Jacksonville, too. They’d needed the support of each other in a way only someone who’d gone through their experience could give.
Looking back, he wondered if he’d made the wrong choice. Could leaning on his family have brought him out of the pit instead of sinking further in? What’s done is done. What good would second-guessing himself do now?
All that mattered was that he was on a mission to heal. Every decision he made, every action he took, would be based on how it affected him long-term. No more quick fixes that filled him with shame and regret.
He needed real solutions, and going home topped the list. He’d only told a select few—those he thought would understand—but one friend from the squadron had accused him of running away from his problems, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. If anything, he was facing them head on.
By going home, he was placing himself in a situation where he couldn’t slide into old habits. Mom and Cara would offer unconditional love, but they wouldn’t hesitate to hold him accountable once he told them what he’d been going through.
His mom came from a family of teetotalers. She wouldn’t allow any liquor into her home, including that which had already been consumed. If it wasn’t rubbing alcohol, it didn’t make it past her doors.
He laughed at a memory that surfaced though it hadn’t been funny at the time. The summer of his junior year of high school, he’d gone to a party and not realized the punch had more than fruit juice and lemon-lime soda. He was unknowingly drunk by the time a friend dropped him off later that night.
When he st
umbled into the house, Mom sent him right back out with a blanket and pillow and made him sleep on the porch. He’d had a hard time convincing her the next morning that he hadn’t realized he’d been drinking. Only once she’d called the parents of the kids involved was she satisfied.
The incident had humiliated him at the time. How could his mother do that to him? Even though it had happened mid-summer and was largely forgotten about when school started, he hadn’t been invited to any more parties by that group.
His mom’s prayers and guidance—in some late-night talks—had turned the social tragedy into a life lesson. He’d become more aware of his surroundings—getting to know people before drinking their Kool-Aid—and the next morning’s hangover had thoroughly convinced him to steer clear of alcohol.
Until Mike died, and he found relief in a bottle. Until then, he’d never had any regrets so extreme that he wanted to obliterate them from his life.
He looked down at his knuckles turning white from his grip on the steering wheel. Loosening his hold, he shifted his thoughts to happier times. He remembered riding his bike down the street while Cara tried to catch up on her pink bike with a white wicker basket on the front.
Images materialized of all the happy holidays they’d shared as a family before his father died when he was eleven. Dad had loved holidays and went to extremes to make them special. Their house had always been the one people drove out of their way to see, with all the Christmas lights and decorations. At Easter, he’d put a cross in the front yard with a cardboard “tomb” with the stone rolled away. Pumpkins, hay bales, and scarecrows filled their porch every September through November.
His father’s death had been terrible, but even that hadn’t affected Jared like Mike’s death. Dad died from a heart attack, and while it took everyone by surprise since he’d always been the picture of health, he hadn’t suffered. It had been instant, unlike Mike’s death which had been slow and painful. Dad had lived a longer life, started a family. Mike never had that chance, and left behind a young widow. More so, Jared didn’t blame himself for his Dad’s death like he did with Mike’s. The guilt added a new dimension to what was already an unbearable grief.
