“Wow! Can I, Therese?”
Tiny lines marred the corners of Catherine’s mouth. “Of course you can, baby. I’m your mother.”
Bitch. Traitorous, coldhearted, selfish, manipulative— Therese interrupted her thoughts and forced a smile for Abby, still looking at her expectantly. “Sure, you can. Just be sure you’re not late for school in the morning.”
Why was it an excited shriek was so much less painful to the ears than an infuriated one when the pitch was the same? Abby jumped from her chair, gave Catherine a hug, then raced toward the stairs. “You guys settle, and I’ll get packed!”
The only thing to settle in the wake of her going was silence, cold and uncomfortable.
* * *
Jacob stood at the window, shoulders hunched, staring out. He’d been facedown on the bed when Keegan and Mariah came in, then had sat up rapidly, swiped his hand over his face, and gone to the window. They hadn’t caught a glimpse of his face since then, and he’d said nothing beyond his initial Go away when they knocked.
No eleven-year-old boy liked an audience for his tears.
Keegan was sitting in a straight-backed desk chair, and Mariah stood between his knees, backed up close to him. He liked that he was her safe place in a moment of doubt and wished he could be the same for her brother.
“I remember one time when my dad left,” he said at last. “He’d been living with us for about eight months, which was some kind of record with him. Long enough for me to get used to having him there. I was fifteen, and it was kind of a big time for me. School was letting out for the summer, I was getting this big award that was really a big deal, I was turning sixteen and getting my driver’s license and starting my first job, all in a couple of days. My mom had a big party planned with the entire family, even the second cousins of second cousins we hardly knew.”
Jacob was so still it was impossible to tell if he was listening or practicing his talent for tuning people out. Too bad he couldn’t tune out his disaster of a mother.
“I got home from school the day before the party, and Dad was packing his bags. I couldn’t believe he was leaving like that, sneaking out before Mom got home from work, skipping out on my birthday. He shrugged and said, ‘I don’t question the itch. When it’s time to go, I go.’ The itch was what he called his desire to move on to another place. He didn’t say congratulations or happy birthday. He didn’t even say good-bye. He just finished packing and walked out. We didn’t see him again for four years.”
A long heavy moment passed before Jacob asked, “Do you hate him?”
“No. But for a long time I wouldn’t have pissed on him if he was on fire.”
His response choked a laugh from Jacob. He sniffled loudly, then wiped his nose again as he sprawled onto the bed. “The stupid thing is, I don’t even want to live in California. It was boring, and my friends and my coaches are here, and—and Therese would be all alone if Abby and I both left. It’s just…”
It would warm Therese’s breaking heart to know that, even when he was hurting, Jacob was thinking of her. She’d felt hopeless for so long, but clearly she was doing something right.
Throwing Catherine out would be the right thing, too, but he hadn’t heard the bounce of a plastic-surgery-enhanced body hitting the front sidewalk yet.
But right now he had to focus on Jacob. “It’s hard when you’re not invited even when you don’t want to go.”
“Yeah.”
“Your mom didn’t mean to hurt you. She just wasn’t thinking.”
“Oh, she was thinking. She was thinking of herself and her BFF Abby. The whole time we were there, she acted like she was her sister instead of her mom. It was like I wasn’t even there.” Silence. “My dad said she had issues.”
Mother issues, responsibility issues, self-esteem issues. And being Abs’s new best friend wasn’t going to help. If Abby was gorgeous at thirteen, she was going to be incredible at eighteen and amazing at twenty-five, while Catherine was going to continue to age. Now she could take pride in a beautiful daughter, but in a few years, she wouldn’t appreciate finding herself in Abby’s shadow.
“Abby always wanted Dad and Mom to get back together, even after he married Therese. But I didn’t. All they did was fight and slam doors and not speak to each other. He was a lot happier with Therese.”
And yet he’d still been unfaithful to her. A drunken mistake? A lapse in judgment? Maybe. Not that there was enough booze in the world to make Keegan turn to another woman if Therese were waiting at home for him.
Though without that infidelity, Mariah wouldn’t be here, resting her elbows on Keegan’s legs, swaying side to side. Every cloud had its silver lining, Granny Dupree used to say.
In this case, Mariah was his.
* * *
“Could I trouble you for a cup of coffee? I’ve been to four places since getting into town, and not one of them makes a decent cup.”
Mouth pressed in a line, Therese left the table and went to the coffeemaker. As soon as the brew was started, she began clearing dishes from the table. When she set the second stack down so hard on the counter that they should have broken, she knotted her fingers and turned to face Catherine. “You should have called me instead of just coming here.”
Catherine moved from the chair to a stool at the island. “She’s my daughter.”
“I have legal custody.” Remember? Because you didn’t want them anymore.
Her shrug was elegant, her bleached hair rippling in waves around her shoulders. “She doesn’t want to live with you. And a girl belongs with her mother.”
Especially a young one. Especially one who’d lost her father. But that girl required effort, work, patience, dealing with. A new haircut, a manicure, or new clothes weren’t going to ease that trauma. “What about a boy? Doesn’t he belong with his mother, too?”
“Jacob’s doing fine here.” Catherine’s tone was so dismissive that Therese’s fingers curled tighter. If only it was her throat they were gripping.
Therese forced a deep breath, then another. It was quiet upstairs. Keegan was taking care of Jacob, and Abby was no doubt on the phone with Nicole, telling her about this fabulous turn of events. She was so excited. She must be feeling as if every dream she ever wanted had come true.
And wasn’t this what Therese had wanted, too? Hadn’t she prayed for Catherine to step up? Hadn’t she been willing to keep Jacob if only she could send Abby elsewhere? Was she no better than Catherine?
She had prayed…but she wasn’t sure…she didn’t think…
God, what do I do now? Is this Your will? Is this best for Abby? Will Catherine be any sort of mother to her, or is she looking for someone to adore her, someone she can shape in her silicone image?
“I talked to a lawyer,” Catherine said. “All you have to do is sign a few papers, and Abby and I will head back to California. Though…there is one other thing.”
The hairs on Therese’s nape stood on end, and her stomach clenched. Catherine already assumed she could just swoop in and take back her daughter without any problem. What else could she possibly want?
The woman rested her hands on the countertop, gold and diamonds catching the light from above, and tapped her bloodred fake nails. “Raising a teenager isn’t cheap, and it’s different in California. Abby will be adapting to a more sophisticated lifestyle. She’ll need things.”
Therese stared. Dimly she registered that her mouth was open, but she couldn’t bypass the shock to give her brain the command to close it. Catherine was asking for money? She’d finally decided to live up to her responsibilities as a mother, but she wanted Therese to pay her for it? Oh, no. Oh, hell, no.
“It’s only fair,” Catherine said defensively. “Paul’s life insurance was meant to provide for the three of you. If I’m taking care of Abby, then I deserve a third of the money.”
“Fair?” The word squeaked out, barely able to form since Therese’s chest was so tight she couldn’t get a breath in. “Deserve?”
Steps sounded on the stairs, and Catherine darted a look that way, then slid to her feet. Quickly, softly, she said, “I know what she’s like. It’s a small price to be rid of her.”
Then she put on her phoniest smile and, in an unnaturally loud voice, went on. “You know what? Forget about the coffee. I’ve had enough caffeine for the day. I’ve got all the paperwork in my car. I’ll bring it by tomorrow after I get my baby off to school, and you can set up an appointment with your attorney.”
Therese didn’t point out that she went to school, too. She didn’t scream at Catherine to get the hell out of her house and never come back. She didn’t slap that fraud of a smile off her face. She didn’t do anything but watch as the bitch glided down the hall, intercepting Abby on her way to the kitchen, turned her around, hooked her arm through Abby’s, and strolled out the door.
But once the faint rev of an engine faded away, Therese sank to the floor, right there against the cabinets, and hugged herself tightly. That was where Keegan, Jacob, and Mariah found her some while later. Keegan didn’t try to coax her to her feet, to move her someplace better suited for falling apart, but all three of them joined her, Keegan on one side, Jacob on the other, Mariah curling up on Jacob’s lap and periodically patting Therese’s arm. “It’s okay, sweetie,” she murmured.
Though her eyes were swimming with tears, Therese smiled at her. “Is that what Celly says?”
She nodded vigorously and patted again. “Celly knows.”
After a long time, Jacob asked, “Are you gonna let her go?”
Comforted by the feel of Keegan’s arm around her waist, Therese slid her left arm around Jacob’s waist and pulled him closer. “I may not have a choice.”
“The law says you do. When she gave us up, she gave up all her rights, too.”
“But Abby’s thirteen. A judge would consider what she wants. And can you imagine how unhappy we’re all going to be if she’s disappointed?”
But a little voice in Therese’s head argued. She’s thirteen—still a child. And Catherine as much as admitted she wanted her for the money. What if you refuse to give it to her? Will she still take Abby?
“This is my fault,” Jacob muttered. “If we hadn’t gone out there on spring break…and that was my idea.”
“It’s not your fault.” It was the first time Keegan had spoken since joining Therese on the floor. “You’re not responsible for decisions made by adults, Jacob.”
“Still…” The boy sighed, then rested his head on Therese’s shoulder.
Life without Abby. It was what she’d wanted…or so she’d thought. But even after speaking to the lawyer at JAG and the chaplain, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to take any action. She’d prayed for guidance, talked to her friends, confided in Keegan, but she hadn’t called Catherine or Paul’s parents. She hadn’t broached the issue with anyone who could actually do something.
And Abby had been so much easier. She’d lost so much of the snottiness. She’d let down her guard. They’d begun building a relationship. Lord, am I supposed to just let go of that? Let a woman I wouldn’t trust with a kitten waltz away with Paul’s daughter? Buy my freedom and forget about Abby and what’s best for her?
Her only answer in that moment was the aching in her own heart.
Chapter 15
Thursday morning always came too soon.
Jessy squinted at the clock, but the numbers were blurry, dancing before her grit-filled eyes. Her mouth tasted like grit, too, and her head was pounding. Again. The sunlight creeping into the room at the edges of the window blinds seemed brighter than it should have been for six forty-five a.m. Shoving her fingers through her hair, she sat up in bed and checked the clock again.
Holy crap, it was 7:53. She launched out of bed and nearly lost her balance, her legs wobbling, her arms windmilling. Before the wave of nausea had passed, she was moving again, grabbing a dress from the closet, clean underwear from the dresser, yanking her pajamas off as she stumbled into the bathroom.
It was the quickest put-together she’d ever done: clothes, shoes, makeup, hair, teeth brushed, in five minutes. She didn’t have time for a cup of coffee, but she could mainline the stuff at work, and food would have to wait until her midmorning break. Grabbing her purse, she sailed out the door and down the steps, then practically ran to the bank.
Mrs. Dauterive gave her one of those looks, all prim and pruny, even though she reached her desk at exactly eight o’clock. Jessy flashed her a bright smile, stuffed her bag in the bottom desk drawer, then headed to the break room for coffee.
“You barely made it,” Julia murmured as she stirred sweetener into her own mug.
“Yeah, but it counts.” Jessy filled her own mug, added real cream and too much sugar. She could use the calories since she’d missed breakfast.
“You look like hell, girlfriend. You coming down with something?”
Heat warmed Jessy’s face, but she pretended otherwise. “Trouble sleeping.” It wasn’t necessarily a lie. She couldn’t remember actually going to bed last night. She did remember getting takeout at Serena’s—a slice of sweet potato pie, one of pecan, and one of coconut cream, and sipping a glass of wine while she indulged.
Everything after that was a little fuzzy.
She felt like one of her own photography subjects in the camera viewfinder in that instant before she pressed the shutter release and brought everything into clear focus. She hadn’t had any clear focus in her life for a long time.
Grimly she returned to her desk, uncomfortably aware of Mrs. Dauterive’s beady stare. She was grateful when the first customer of the morning took a seat in front of her desk. She smiled her fake smile, greeted the old lady in her fake-friendly-professional voice, and forced her attention to the opening of a new account.
By the time her break came, she was starved. She’d already drunk enough bad coffee to make her jittery, but she took advantage of the free minutes to go across and down the street to Java Dave’s for real coffee and a pastry. The woman in front of her took forever to decide about her order, leaving Jessy to waste half of her break waiting. “For God’s sake, hon, it’s coffee,” she muttered under her breath.
Her blond hair swinging, the woman turned to give her a piercing look, the blue of her eyes as fake as the green of Jessy’s was real. Slowly she faced the counter and the patient barista again and ordered.
The moment the blonde walked away, Jessy rattled off her own order, then glanced over her shoulder. The woman might be slow, but she wore a pair of killer heels that would look so much better on Jessy, and the casual-chic outfit would be more flattering on Jessy, too. She had on too much jewelry, and the silvery tint to her hair left a lot to be desired, and—
And she was meeting Therese. At ten o’clock on a Thursday morning. When Therese should be in school surrounded by all her little rug rats. What the hell? Therese never missed work unless she was on her deathbed, and she had the constitution of a horse. She never had the sniffles, colds, or even menstrual cramps.
So why was she off today, who was the woman, and why was the air around them icy enough to produce August snow on the Oklahoma prairie?
The barista cleared her throat, and Jessy turned back to pay for her order. She’d intended to eat at one of the small tables before heading back to Mrs. Dauterive’s snotty glare, but not now. Not with one of her best friends engaged in frosty conversation with a stranger just across the room. She’d much rather sit in the gazebo on the courthouse’s back lawn.
Feeling furtive, she put extra effort into leaving the coffee shop unnoticed. As she took one last look at Therese at the door, a thought occurred to her: this meeting must be about Abby. Was she making good on her threat to send the girl away?
God, Jessy hoped not. She knew Abby was a brat. She’d never been timid about sharing that with Therese. But she also knew that sometimes being bratty was a cover for how lost and unhappy and unwanted a kid felt. Therese was the best thing to ever happen to Abby, and if s
he gave up on her, what chance did the girl have?
Jessy knew a few things about kids parents had given up on. She wouldn’t wish that on anyone, not even a snotty thirteen-year-old who’d slapped her stepmother.
Not even Abby deserved to grow up and become Jessy.
* * *
Keegan sat on the stoop in front of his motel room, checking the time on his cell phone every minute or so. Therese had called earlier to tell him she’d taken the day off to meet with Catherine and would let him know when she was done. He hadn’t tried to influence her either way, not this morning or last night. She had to make her own decision.
But, God, he hoped she said no. Every instinct he possessed said Catherine Matheson was the worst possible choice for Abby. She was self-centered and as shallow as the dewdrops that had formed on the grass this morning. Had about as much permanency, too.
At least that call had been followed with good news: his request to extend his leave another week had been approved. He had more time with Therese, which they would both need if she let Catherine take Abby right away the way the woman wanted.
At the bottom of the steps, Mariah sat on her haunches, intently watching an ant crawl from one chunk of gravel to the next. “When is Celly coming back?”
Her question didn’t surprise him. She asked at least once a day, usually his cue to call his mom and let them talk a bit. “In a few days.” Not that she had much concept of time. Her entire life had consisted of just a few days, as far as she was concerned. No past to remember, no future to worry about, nothing but today. He envied her, but then, her todays were, for the most part, good days.
Finally she stood, tottered a moment, then climbed the steps. “Tell me a story.”
“Your books are inside. Grab one and—”
Stubbornly she shook her head. “Not read, tell. Celly tells stories.”
A Man to Hold on to (A Tallgrass Novel) Page 27
