Redeem (Never Waste a Second Chance Book 3)

by Janice M. Whiteaker

  Beth took a deep breath. “Please pull your shirt down sweetheart. You don’t do that at school do you?”

  “Missus Jacobs won’t let me.” Liza slowly slid off the couch, her hair clinging to the chenille fabric as she went, probably starting a mat Beth would have to wrestle out before bed tonight.

  Beth rushed into the kitchen. “Good job Misses Jacobs.” She’d have to remember to thank her fellow teacher when she dropped Liza off this morning. “Kate honey, what do you want for lunch today?”

  “Um. Peanut butter and jelly maybe.” Kate opened the fridge and pulled out the strawberry jelly. “But only with this one. I don’t like the purple kind.”

  Beth held up the jar. There was barely a skim of preserves coating the bottom. “Of course you don’t.”

  After grabbing a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter along with the grape jelly her daughter found unacceptable, Beth set up an assembly line. They were already running late so there was no time for short order lunch making. Today everyone would be enjoying peanut butter and jelly.

  In under three minutes she made, cut, and packed three sandwiches and tossed a bag of chips into each of three insulated lunch boxes along with a bottle of water and a pre-packaged pouch of apple slices. “Okay. How about some breakfast?”

  Beth dropped four frozen waffles in the toaster and punched down the levers. “Let’s get your coat on Li.” By the time the toaster popped, both girls had their coats and backpacks on and Liza was at the front door putting on her shoes. Beth smeared the waffles with the still open jar of peanut butter and folded each in half and stuffed them into a Ziploc bag.

  Grabbing her own coat, Beth hooked her purse over one arm and grabbed three small bottles of water and shoved them in the large, mom-of-small-children sized bag, along with the waffles. “Okay, let’s get going.” She flung open the door.

  “Crap.”

  Last night it snowed. Not a lot, but apparently enough to make someone feel like they needed to clean her car off, scrape the two inches off her sidewalk and lay down a fresh sprinkling of salt nuggets.

  Someone who wasn’t Thomas. Someone who she also learned wasn’t Paul. Unfortunately the pool of good Samaritans was pretty full. Over the past year she learned there were lots of people who felt bad for young widows.

  Even young widows who lost a husband like hers. It turned out being the innocent surviving wife of an alcoholic, would-be murderer drove you pretty high on the pity list.

  “What’s wrong Mommy?” Kate looked up at her as she closed and locked the door behind them.

  “Nothing honey.” Beth loaded the girls into the completely snow-free van, the salt crunching under her shoes as she went from one side to the other.

  While the van warmed up a little, she passed out the waffles and water. “Eat up ladies.”

  It was unusually quiet as they drove into town. Maybe breakfast on the road wasn’t such a terrible thing. Especially if it gave Beth just a little break before it was time to take care of her other kids. All twenty-three of them.

  Beth took a bite of her folded waffle and chewed slowly as she coasted closer to town. She could really be onto something here. They could use all their time getting ready and not feel so rushed. It could make their mornings even easier if she planned and packed breakfast up the night before.

  Unfortunately, planning hadn’t been her strong suit over the past year. For the most part, she spent every day feeling like she was barely keeping her head above water. The laundry was always behind. The house was always messy. Some days she discovered the milk jug was empty. Others there was plenty of milk so they had cereal for dinner.

  It was hard to live with Rich when he was alive. Really hard. Hard enough she’d tried to leave more than once, only to be dragged back by guilt and an odd combination of duty and unrealistic optimism that maybe this was the time he would change.

  It never was.

  That’s why it was one hell of a surprise when single-mothering wasn’t a walk in the park. It was overwhelming and exhausting and most days she was pretty sure she was awful at all of it.

  Beth looked up at the two little, peanut butter covered girls in the back seat. They deserved a mommy who wasn’t always stressed. Always frustrated. Always one temper tantrum away from losing her shit.

  It was time to be better. For their sake and for her own sanity.

  “What do you guys want for dinner tonight?” She stopped at the last light before they reached the school and smiled at them in the rearview mirror.

  “Chicken and French fries.” Liza licked at the peanut butter smeared on her cheek. “And a coke.”

  Their immediate assumption only convinced her more it was time to get it together. “No. Mommy’s going to make dinner.” The light turned green and Beth pulled through the intersection.

  “Like noodle soup?” Kate kicked her seat as she bounced along with the song playing quietly in the background.

  “No, not like canned soup. Like a real dinner. Maybe spaghetti—”

  “Spaghetti!” Both voices yelled loudly.

  That was a good place to start. It might be noodles and jarred sauce, but tonight, she was making dinner and they were going to eat it sitting at the table, on plates, like normal people.

  “Spaghetti it is.” She pulled into the teacher lot of the brick single-story elementary school and unloaded, starting with Kate.

  She handed her older daughter her horse covered lunch box. “Here’s your lunch.” Then she unbuckled Liza and helped her jump out, the remaining two lunches in one hand and Liza’s hand firmly gripped in the other. She bumped the door shut with her hip before heading through the half full lot toward the school. “I think we somehow managed to end up a little early this morning.”

  As Beth walked down the hall with Liza after dropping Kate off in the first-grade wing, she felt different. Like maybe life was coming back together. Like she was finally going to have things at least a little under control. Then she squatted down to kiss Liza in front of the door to her pre-school room.

  Beth stared down at her daughter’s feet and was reminded that there were some things she might just never be able to get under control. “You have on two different shoes.”

  “I know.” Liza looked down. “I like different shoes.”

  Beth took a deep breath. She smiled at Liza. “You know what. I think I like them too.” She kissed her and squeezed her tight. Learning to handle the life she was dealt on her own was definitely going to have a steep learning curve.

  Then again, she’d handled worse and made it through alright.

  Beth stood up and watched Liza hang up her bag and coat in her cubby. She waved at Jan, Liza’s teacher before going to her own classroom. She had a half-hour before the buses started arriving and she was going to make the most of it.

  Flipping on the lights in her third-grade room, she slipped her coat, purse and lunch into her locked closet before sliding the remaining dinosaur lunch into its cubby. After a quick check to make sure everything was ready for the day, she sat down at her computer and pulled up Pinterest. The screen was covered in thumbnail photos of everything from food to paint colors to shirtless men. “Holy cow.”

  Maybe the Pinterest account could wait. A cookbook might be a better, less overwhelming place to start this new organized life she was tackling.

  A small cookbook.

  The chatter of little voices echoed down the hall. Beth checked the clock on the wall. She stood up from her desk and met the first of her students as they filtered into the classroom.

  The beginning of the day was always the craziest and this morning was no exception. Coats flung off, papers piled on her desk, random mittens scattered around the room. She did her best to keep up, helping the less organized students get their homework in the right spot and in place to start their morning work.

  By the time things calmed down, Beth started her rounds, checking in with everyone on her way to go over the stack of last night’s homework haphaz
ardly piled on her desk. She paused by the desk closest to hers. She squatted down beside the student, his blonde head covered in a black hat, pulled low. His head was down and he was seemingly engrossed in his math fact worksheet.

  “Levi honey, you forgot to take your hat off.”

  She dipped lower, trying to give him a smile. “I can put it away for you.”

  The little boy slowly tipped his head up and her breath caught in her throat. All thoughts of dinner tonight and her unknown caretaker were gone. She swallowed hard, struggling to maintain control as rage prickled her skin. After a few seconds when she trusted the right words to come out of her mouth she leaned in. “Would you like to keep it on today?”

  Levi nodded as a tiny tear leaked from his nearly swollen shut black eye. Beth rested her hand on his back as she blinked back her own tears. This little boy needed her to be strong for him.

  Because things were about to get very bad.

  Somehow Beth managed to get through the morning. It was the longest three hours of her life waiting to protect the boy who had carved himself a special place in her heart. As everyone lined up to go to lunch, Levi with his dinosaur lunchbox in hand, Beth’s heart was pounding out of her chest.

  The minute the last student cleared the lunchroom doors she hurried back to her room and shut the door behind her. She took deep breaths in through her nose as she dialed Jerry, Autumn’s husband and a town cop’s number.

  “Hey Beth.” Just the sound of Jerry’s voice was enough to make the tears start to fall. Knowing there was someone there who would help her. Who would finally be able to take care of a terrible situation.

  “I have proof.” Her voice was barely a whisper as she tried to keep the pain and relief and fear terrorizing her body in check.

  “I’ll be there in five minutes.” He hung up.

  Beth laid her head on her desk and cried the tears she would have to keep bottled up, hoping if enough leaked out, she would be left with the strength she would need.

  They would both need.

  A soft knock at her door snapped Beth’s head up and stopped the tears in their tracks. She knew that knock.

  All she had time to do was wipe her face with her sleeve as she hurried to open the door.

  “Can I eat with you Mrs. Dalton?” Levi’s eyes never left her feet.

  “Of course you can.” She closed the door behind him. The little boy sat down at the desk she’d place right next to hers only a few weeks into the school year. From day one the little blonde haired, blue-eyed sweetheart of a child stole her heart. Then he stole some of her innocence.

  Until Levi, Beth never knew how bad life could really be for a kid. Until Levi, she never understood how difficult it can be to protect an innocent nine- year-old. Until Levi, she never knew how much her heart could hurt for a child that wasn’t her own.

  Beth sat down beside him as he opened his lunch and unpacked the peanut butter and jelly she’d made this morning. “What happened Levi?”

  “My dad got mad.”

  That wasn’t true. The piece of shit that punched a child in the face wasn’t his dad. He wasn’t even his step-dad. The bastard was nothing more than the longest lasting in a string of worthless boyfriends Levi’s drug addicted mother moved in to help pay the rent.

  “Why was he mad?” Beth held her breath, knowing that what she was able to get out of the little boy might be all he would ever say. It took her so long to build up his trust and there was a good chance that when Jerry arrived and Levi figured out what was happening, all that trust would be gone.

  And that was how it would have to be. If it kept him safe, Levi could hate her for the rest of his life.

  “My mom took his stuff.” Levi took a bite of the sandwich and washed it down with a drink of water. “I think it was her bad stuff.”

  Beth nodded just as another, louder knock rapped against the wood of her door. A half second later it opened and Jerry and the school’s principal stood in the doorway.

  Beth rested her hand on Levi’s. His fingernails were overgrown and a thick line of black debris lined each one. “I had to tell my friend officer Jerry about your eye.”

  Levi nodded. “I know.”

  His answer surprised her. “You do?”

  He nodded again.

  “How did you know?” Had he heard her on the phone? Even if he did, she said nothing to give away what was happening.

  “Because you said you would always take care of me.” He looked down at the lunch she’d packed for him, just like she had every day since she found out his mother never sent him any money or any food. Levi would hide in the bathroom in embarrassment until lunch was over so no one knew. “That’s why you give me food every day.”

  Beth pressed her hand to her mouth. She could hear her slow, purposeful breath rushing in and out. Finally she nodded back. “I will always take care of you.” She squeezed his hand. “I promise.”

  FIVE

  “Didn’t you just buy three bags of that stuff when we were here a few days ago?” Paul raised an eyebrow as Don slid a forty-pound bag of ice melt onto the flat-bed cart.

  Don straightened and shrugged hoping to appear nonchalant. “I just like to be sure the driveway stays safe for my mom’s wheelchair in case I have to take her out.” He grabbed another bag and settled it on top of the first. “Plus I think I’ve inherited your girlfriend.”

  “Not sure what gave you the idea Hazel’s a one man woman.” Paul nodded to the display Don was grabbing from. “You done here?”

  “I’m good.” Don tucked his hands in his coat pockets and followed as Paul rolled the cart to the ceiling fan section.

  Paul slid on his glasses and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. Don stood while he carefully compared what Nancy wrote on the paper she handed him as they left to the serial numbers on the tags, moving from box to box until he finally located the one she wanted. “I guess we need three of these.”

  Don grabbed the first as Paul pushed the paper back in his jeans pocket before grabbing the next box in the row. Don finished by putting a third box on the stack of fans beside his bags of salt. He glanced at Paul. “If you need anything else we’re going to need another flat bed.”

  “I think I have everything we need to get these up.” Paul pulled away with the load, turning to Don as he did. “And we’d have plenty of room if you weren’t spreading salt all over town.” He stopped short and Don nearly ended up face first on the pile. Paul looked him up and down. “And maybe more than a little just outside of town.”

  Don straightened, regaining his balance after the near spill and forced himself to look Paul in the eye when he lied. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Sure you don’t.” Paul started rolling the cart again. This time, Don stayed safely to one side, just in case his employer got another hair to try to take out his shins.

  Once they were back at Paul and Nancy’s, the men moved the salt to Don’s trunk, the weight making the ass end of his sedan sag, before carrying the ceiling fans into the house. The minute their work boots hit the front porch, the door swung open.

  “Hello boys.” Nancy smiled as they passed.

  Don hesitated for just a second. It was always an odd feeling, walking into a house like hers. One that he didn’t want to get too comfortable with. As a grown man, he’d learned enough to figure out places like this were only his to visit, not to have. Not that he hadn’t tried, as a man and a child, to his own detriment.

  There were times when he was a little kid that Donnie Jenkins would ride the bus home with his friend Thomas after school. That was back when schools didn’t keep as good of tabs on kids as they do now. It was easy to jump on any bus and end up wherever.

  Don ended up the one place he knew he would be fed. A place that while it might not have what you would call a nuclear family, it had a mom who was a real mom. Someone who cared about how your day was and gave you a snack and cooked dinner.

  It was a place he knew he
would be safe, even if it was just for a little while, but it was also a place that showed him how life should be. It gave him hope and made him dream of what he would make sure he had one day.

  And he’d tried. As hard as he’d ever tried to do anything.

  He’d failed. Miserably. Managing only to make everyone in town think he was some psycho capable of trying to kill that same friend, one of the most decent men he knew, over a woman.

  Nancy’s hand landed on his arm. “You okay?”

  He smiled, shoving back all the had-been’s and what-if’s that didn’t matter anyway. “I am. You’re boyfriend’s working me like a dog though.”

  Nancy laughed as he continued to walk past her into the house. “Then I owe you dinner.”

  If the delicious smell filling the air around him was dinner then he was going to hate to have to miss it. “I wish.” He carefully set the two fan boxes he was carrying on the floor and took off his heavy coat, hanging it on the rack just inside the door. “I have to get home and check on my mom.”

  “What’s her name?”

  Don spun around to find Liza staring up at him. Her dark hair was pulled up in two pony tails, one drooping quite a bit lower than the other. A white, slightly bent, cardboard stick hung from the corner of her mouth.

  “Who?”

  Liza reached up and grabbed the stick to her bubble-gum pink sucker, making a slurping sound as she popped it from her lips. “Your mom. What’s her name?”

  “Oh. Um.” He shifted under the little girl’s unwavering gaze. “Her name’s Jeanie.”

  “Is she pretty?” The sucker was back in Liza’s mouth and she chewed on what remained of the sugary ball as she patiently waited for his answer.

  He glanced around the great room. Nancy and Paul were in the kitchen with Paul attempting to peek into the pots steaming on the stove while Nancy half-heartedly shooed him away. Paul was already suspicious of him and paying extra attention to Beth’s daughter would only make it worse.

  But she would be a hard one to ignore. Even if he wanted to.