HF02 - Forever After

by Deborah Raney

  She would have to get photographs of everything she wanted to sell and then find a place to store it—a place where people could come and inspect things and where they could pick up any items that were too big to ship.

  She’d check about renting a storage unit, and maybe Lucas would let her use his pickup to move things. She felt bad about the way they’d left things this afternoon. She knew he wasn’t too happy with her about refusing to rent the trailer. Or maybe it was because she wouldn’t talk to him about why.

  But how could she explain it when it didn’t make sense even to her? The trailer really wasn’t bad. With decent furniture and her eye for decorating she could make it presentable—inside anyway. Short of camouflage, there wasn’t much that could disguise the ugly turquoise and white outside.

  She put the idea out of her mind. If she sold all her nice furniture, it was a moot point anyway.

  She logged onto her bank’s website and checked her balances again. Even if she could find an apartment as cheap as that trailer, it was going to stretch her thin to pay the rent every month, never mind utilities and groceries and gas for her car. How long would she have to live from hand to mouth like this? Forever. At the rate she was going, that was the only realistic answer.

  She was starting to see how a woman could marry a man for his money.

  The thought was like a knife to her heart. How could she have had such a casual thought when marrying a man for his money was exactly what she had done with Zach?

  Yes, she’d been young and she’d been pregnant, but she hadn’t been ignorant about the family she was marrying into. About the things the Morgan name had to offer. She hadn’t figured on Zach dying. Or on his parents disowning her if she didn’t conform to their wishes.

  She stretched out on her belly on the bed and started making a list of things she had to sell.

  On a whim she grabbed her cell phone off the nightstand and dialed Lucas.

  “Hey.” His cheery reply made her wonder if she’d misread him this afternoon.

  “Hi. You sound like you’re in a good mood.”

  “I am.”

  “Any special reason why?”

  “Maybe. I’m … not really ready to say anything about it yet.”

  “Oh? Well, now you have me curious.” Was he just giving her a taste of her own medicine?

  But he didn’t sound angry at her. “I’ll tell you in due time. It’s no big secret or anything, but I don’t want to say anything till I know for sure.”

  Now she was really curious. But she didn’t dare push him.

  “So what’s up with you?” he asked.

  “I have a big favor to ask.”

  “Okay …”

  She told him about her plan to sell her stuff online. “Would you mind loaning me your truck? Maybe this weekend? You could have my car in exchange.”

  “How about I come and help?”

  “You’re still on crutches. I wouldn’t ask you to do that.”

  “Well, I won’t be much help, but I can carry the lighter stuff. I’ll come and keep you company at least.”

  “I’d like that.”

  “I can order you around and tell you what you’re doing wrong.”

  “That I wouldn’t like.” But she smiled. The thought of having him there made the whole ordeal seem far more palatable. “I’ll let you know after I’ve talked to Bill and Clarissa and made sure I can get a storage unit. How does Sunday afternoon sound? I’m off work then.”

  “Sure. Just let me know what time.”

  “Thanks. And Luc? Thanks for offering to go with me this afternoon. I’m sorry I acted like a brat.”

  “You can be a brat,” he said.

  She didn’t hear the laughter in his voice that she expected with a comment like that. “You almost sound like you meant that.”

  “Well, I kind of did.” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. You can be a brat, but it wasn’t my place to point it out.”

  “And just whose place do you think it was to point it out?” He still sounded dead serious, and she didn’t know whether to be angry or hurt—or if this was just his sorry attempt at humor.

  “That’s why I said something. Because I don’t think anyone else would point it out. Except maybe the Morgans—and you probably wouldn’t listen to them.”

  She sat up on the bed and pressed her back against the headboard. “Where is this coming from?”

  “I’m sorry, Jen, but it really ticks me off when someone is given a gift—a blessing—and they throw it back in God’s face.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about the trailer house. The perfect place in a beautiful spot, at a price that’s perfect for you. And you can’t even give me one good reason why you’re turning it down. I’m sorry, but that makes no sense to me.”

  Now she was angry. Furious. “What do you care where I live? And I sure don’t have to explain anything to you, but for your infor—”

  “Maybe because you asked me to go with you, I somehow got the impression that you wanted my opinion.”

  “Well, you got it wrong, buddy. And for your information I grew up in poverty and it stunk—big-time. I’d rather not be reminded of it every single day. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve had to give up a lot in the last couple of months. Is it too much to ask that I at least have a decent place to live?”

  “That is a decent place to live. More than decent.” His voice softened and she waited for the apology he owed her. “Jenna, I’m sorry you’ve lost so much. I know life hasn’t been easy for you. But even if you were living at the homeless shelter right now, you’d be living in more luxury than half the world. You act like you deserve a house like the one you sold. And you make it like Clarissa Morgan is such a snoot, but maybe you’re more like her than you want to admit.”

  Okay, now he was hitting below the belt. How had a simple request to borrow his truck turned into an attack on her character? She gulped back a sudden flood of tears. “You know what? Never mind about the truck. I’ll work something out. It’s obvious you don’t—”

  “Jenna … Wait, Jenna. I’m sorry. I was out of line. Forgive me.”

  He did sound sincerely contrite now, but why had he spat those cruel things at her?

  “Can we talk about it on Sunday?” His voice turned pleading now.

  “I guess … I’ll let you know if it works to go then.” She worked to keep her tone cool and said good-bye quickly. She hung up and let the tears come. It was so unlike him to spout insults like that. Undeserved insults!

  What was going on with him? She only hoped she could get the arrangements set up for Sunday. She did not want to go through another day with things the way they were between her and Luc.

  She jumped up beside him, waiting, trying to imagine what kind of news he might be holding back from her.

  34

  Sunday, January 18

  And for your information, I am not snooty.” Jenna heaved one end of a hulky sofa table onto the tailgate of the pickup.

  Lucas leaned on a crutch and balanced the other end of the table on one shoulder, looking decidedly unconvinced.

  “I’m not! I’ve worked very hard to not be snooty because I’ve seen what that looks like.” She looked pointedly toward the front door of the Morgans’ house, feeling certain that Clarissa was watching them from behind one of the curtained windows.

  They’d been arguing—albeit half-heartedly—all morning about the way he’d attacked her on the phone the other night.

  Luc adjusted a bungee strap across a stack of crates and tugged at the Cardinals ball cap he wore. His dark hair curled out from under the bill in a way that made Jenna think of a little boy. A very cute little boy.

  “Sometimes,” he said, “being snooty isn’t about what you say. It’s more of an attitude.”

  “Oh, like when Clarissa pranced out here and offered to haul some of this stuff off to Goodwill.”

  “Yes, or like when someone looks down t
heir nose at the idea of living in a certain trailer house.”

  “You don’t have any—”

  “Hang on.” He held up a hand. “Let me finish. All I’m saying, Jen, is that you insult everyone who’s ever lived in a trailer house when you refuse to live in one yourself.”

  “I don’t see you moving to the homeless shelter.”

  His grin said she’d scored on that one. “Okay, good point. Let me rephrase that. All I’m saying is, just because you used to live in the ritzy part of town doesn’t make you any better than the rest of us.”

  “I never said it did, Lucas.” She was incredulous. Where was he getting this stuff?

  “You don’t always have to say something for people to know how you feel about it.”

  “Well, I didn’t intend to come off that way.”

  “Fine. Where do you want these?” He balanced a stack of shoe boxes in one arm.

  She did a quick tabulation. How much of the hundreds of dollars she’d spent on shoes could she recoup on eBay? Probably a fraction. How could she ever have thought it was okay to spend two hundred dollars on a pair of shoes when her credit cards were already maxed out?

  Still, almost all of those shoes had been on clearance. And Clarissa had encouraged her, assuring her those were bargain prices for such top brands. It was all about brands for Clarissa. Of course, she’d had an eager student in her daughter-in-law. Jenna closed her eyes and saw only the astronomical credit card bills she was still struggling to pay off.

  Clarissa had always joked after their spending sprees that shopping was cheaper than therapy. Now Jenna wasn’t so sure. Though she was starting to see that the shopping had indeed been a sort of therapy for her—it filled a void in her life.

  She knew what Lucas would say about that: a God-shaped void.

  She pushed the thought aside and looked over the stacks of boxes and furniture in the back of the truck—not even half of what was still in the Morgans’ garage. Maybe by amassing all this “proof” of her financial status, she was trying to prove that she was not that little girl who’d grown up in the Shady Groves Trailer Court—a place which, contrary to its name, had no groves and consequently no shade.

  She eyed Lucas. “Can we talk about something else?”

  “Please.”

  “So, are you ready to tell me why you were in such a good mood when I called Friday night? Even though”—she cleared her throat and mumbled under her breath—“you’re certainly in a cranky mood right now.”

  “Hey, I heard that.” He grinned and poked playfully at her leg with the tip of one crutch.

  Jenna gave an inward sigh of relief. The fight was over and they were back to familiar teasing. She liked this much better.

  He hefted a box to his shoulder and balanced it with one hand, the other gripping one of his crutches like a walking stick. “So you’re going to put all this stuff on eBay?”

  “Are you purposely changing the subject?” She had to know what he was obviously trying to avoid telling her. “Maybe I’m being too snoopy, which”—she winked—“in case you weren’t aware, is different than snooty.”

  “Ha ha,” he deadpanned. But she detected a glint of playfulness in his eyes.

  “Well?”

  He dipped his head. “I’m not sure I’m ready to say anything yet.”

  “Can I at least have a hint? You’ve got me really curious.”

  He backed up to the extended tailgate and hoisted himself onto it. He sat there, legs swinging, spinning one of his crutches like a top. “A clue, huh?”

  She jumped up beside him, waiting, trying to imagine what kind of news he could be holding out on.

  “I’ll just say this: if this thing goes through, it will be Sparky’s news as much as mine.”

  “Oh! Are they taking him at the fire station?”

  “Nope.” He shook his head.

  “Does it have something to do with all the training you’ve been doing with him?”

  “Yep.”

  She giggled. “Am I getting warm?”

  “You said a clue.”

  “Okay, I give up. Just tell me!”

  She got the impression he was itching to do just that. But he made her wait. He jabbed at a clump of mud the pickup’s tires had deposited on the Morgans’ pristine driveway, seeming deep in thought. Finally he turned to meet her eyes. “Okay, it’s not for sure, but I got—Sparky and I got selected for an accelerant detection training program in Tulsa. Usually it takes a year or more to get into this place, but apparently there was a cancellation, so we got moved up on the list.”

  “Wow. That’s … great.” She swallowed the lump that lodged in her throat. “Tulsa, huh?” That was hours away. How was he going to manage that? It was too far to commute. …

  “Yeah, well, I won’t know for sure until next week sometime. It depends on how many of the other alternates could go on such short notice.”

  “Go? How does that work? If it’s in Tulsa, I mean?”

  “We go to the Tulsa facility for the training. The program is pretty intensive, but when we get out of there, Sparky should be able to alert on over a dozen different accelerants. Then he can work with a handler for a fire station, or with a fire inspector. There are a lot of possibilities once he’s been through the six weeks of training.”

  “Six weeks?” She pressed her lips together. She hadn’t meant that to come out quite so desperate. But six weeks? “Will you come home on weekends?”

  He shook his head. “The training is pretty much twenty-four/seven. I’ll make a quick trip to Springfield for Ma and Geoff’s wedding on Valentine’s Day, and I may be able to come home for a short weekend or two after that, but even if I do, we’ll be in training mode. It’s a pretty big commitment.”

  She felt as if he’d just slapped her. “What about your leg? How are you going to manage on crutches?”

  “Same as I do now. Actually, the doc cleared me to get rid of these things next week”—he poked his cheek out with his tongue—“but I knew you’d be slave-driving me, so I thought I’d better bring them along today.”

  She ignored that. “When do you leave?” Her voice came out in a squeak. Six weeks was an eternity. She quickly did the math. It would be the end of March—spring—before he came back. She’d hoped he would go with her to Bryn’s wedding. Now he might not even be back in time. What did it say about their friendship that he would choose to go away for that length of time?

  She stopped short. Hadn’t she been thinking about the possibility of moving to Springfield herself? When people were “just friends,” they didn’t make life-changing decisions with each other in mind.

  “If we get accepted, we’d have to report to the facility on the ninth.”

  “Of?”

  “February.”

  “I don’t like this,” she admitted. He may as well know how she was feeling because she wasn’t doing a very good job of hiding her emotions.

  “What do you mean, you don’t like it?”

  “You running off like this.”

  “You say it like you mean running away.”

  She could see his defenses prickle. “Well? If the shoe fits.”

  He narrowed his eyes at her. “And what exactly would I be running away from?”

  “Us?” She was so going to regret her transparency later.

  In one smooth motion he pushed off the tailgate, slid the crutches under his arms, and pivoted to face her. “There is no ‘us,’ Jen. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”

  She couldn’t refute that. He was right. She’d held him at arm’s length. Why? All she’d wanted since that first kiss was to be with him. Instead she’d pushed him away. Again and again.

  He swung back a step and looked at the ground, rocking between the crutches. “I think it might be best this way. Give us some time to figure things out. And solve some other problems in the meantime.”

  She studied him. “Other problems? Like what?”

  “Like the fact that no matter
how much I try to tell myself we’re just friends, that’s not the way I want things.” He took off his cap and raked his fingers through matted curls. “I’m not sure how long I could have stuck around and tried to pretend otherwise.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but she had nothing.

  Movement behind Luc drew her attention. The door off the side courtyard entrance opened, and Clarissa came toward them bearing a tray with pitcher and glasses and a plate of cookies. “Thought you might like a snack. I’m sorry Bill didn’t get home in time to help. Maybe next load? It looks like you still have quite a bit to pack up.” She nodded back toward the garage.

  “We may not get it all today—I hope that’s not a problem,” Jenna said.

  “Just let us know when you think you can get the rest.” Clarisssa carried the tray to the pickup and set it on the tailgate, then poured lemonade into tall glasses, chattering about the weather and wondering why Bill wasn’t home yet.

  Lucas thanked her for the lemonade and helped himself to a cookie. “I remember these,” he said, talking over a mouthful. “Zach used to bring these to the station. You were famous for your oatmeal cookies.”

  Clarissa beamed. “He always did have a sweet tooth.” She smiled up at Luc, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. “Well, you eat these up. Take home what you don’t eat. Bill and I are trying to watch our waistlines.”

  She started back for the house. “Jen, just bring the tray in when you’re finished, would you?”

  “I will. Thanks, Clarissa.” She felt a tug of her heart as she spoke the words. As much as they’d been at odds, she’d missed Clarissa. She wasn’t sure if she could trust her warmth. Maybe she was just behaving for Lucas’s sake.

  She felt an odd prick in her conscience. Her own attitude hadn’t always been that great where Clarissa was concerned. And she knew exactly when things had gone sour between them. It was after she’d lost the baby—the second baby. Since she’d never told the Morgans about that pregnancy—never told anyone—she’d withdrawn from them. Secrets had a way of doing that. Guilt nudged at her.