by Marin Thomas
There was no sense delaying the conversation. A good night’s rest wouldn’t change Katelyn’s situation or make it easier to explain. “How about peppermint schnapps instead of coffee?”
“Oh, Lord. This can’t be good.” Birdie bumped Katelyn aside and found a bottle of Hiram Walker in the back of the pantry. “Bring the glasses.”
Katelyn would rather chat on the front porch. The back porch was her mother’s domain and she’d always felt trapped sitting behind the house without a view of the town.
“Leave the light off so the bugs don’t come calling.” Birdie poured two fingers of liquor in each juice glass.
“Thanks.” Katelyn sipped the alcohol, the taste bringing back memories of eating the tiny candy canes her mother had hung on the Christmas tree each year. “How come you never fixed up the front of the house?”
“What do you mean?”
“The front porch would look cute with a couple of chairs and a potted plant.”
“Why would I do that?”
“So you could sit out there once in a while.” And not hide from the world back here.
“I like the back porch. It faces west and I can watch the sun set.”
“Seriously, Mom. Why haven’t you decorated the front of the house all these years?” Katelyn couldn’t even remember a holiday wreath on the door.
Birdie tossed back the remainder of her schnapps. “Because I don’t want to sit out there and stare at the place I work every day.”
Katelyn couldn’t recall her mother complaining about her job before. “I thought you liked cashiering at the Buy & Bag.”
Birdie shrugged. “It’s a paycheck.”
“Why didn’t you quit years ago and find a job doing something else?”
“We only had one vehicle, and it was easy to walk down the hill to the store.” What about after Katelyn’s father had died? Birdie could have landed a new job then.
“Have you thought about retiring?”
“Not all women are blessed with a husband who makes lots of money.”
Ouch. “Dad left you a life insurance policy.”
“Fifty thousand dollars is a drop in the bucket. I put that in savings to cover my funeral expenses and to help settle my estate when the time comes.”
“If you’re having financial trouble, you should have told me.”
“I’m making ends meet.”
Birdie was too stubborn for her own good. Once Katelyn received the lump sum settlement from the divorce, she could pay off her mother’s house and lighten her load. Maybe then Birdie would cut back on her hours at the store.
“And it’s silly that you send me a thousand dollars every year for my birthday,” Birdie said.
Silly or not, her mother cashed the check within a week of receiving it. “I miss Mack.” Katelyn stared at the yellow lantana patch covering the dog’s grave, wishing her childhood buddy sat beside her now. She’d welcome one of his slobbery kisses.
Birdie poured herself a second shot of schnapps. “Are we through beating around the bush?”
There was no good way to ease into the subject. “Don filed for divorce.”
“Don did?”
Katelyn tore her gaze from the yard. “You sound surprised.”
“I always thought you’d be the one to leave him.”
“Me?”
“Don’s gone more than he’s home with you and the kids. That’s no marriage.”
Katelyn shoved her fingers through her hair, knocking the clip loose. “I admit it hasn’t always been easy parenting by myself, but Don’s been a good provider.” She vacated her chair and sat on the porch step. “The divorce seems surreal, because we rarely argued.”
“It’s difficult to fight with someone you don’t know.”
Katelyn hadn’t shared any intimate details of her marriage with her mother, but obviously Birdie had seen through her daughter and son-in-law’s relationship.
“What do the kids think?” Birdie asked.
“They don’t know yet. I’m making Don tell them.”
“And Shirley?”
“She wants Don and me to reconcile.”
Birdie grabbed the bottle of liquor and joined Katelyn on the steps. “Shirley never thought you were good enough for her son. I’m surprised she agreed to come home with you.”
“I’m the lesser of two evils. She’d rather be with me than be left by herself.” Katelyn drained her glass, then wheezed. “There’s another woman.”
“There usually is,” Birdie said.
Don’s infidelity was a slap in the face. The spark might have flickered out of their marriage, but until now she’d respected her husband. “We have over eighteen years together.”
“You mean eighteen years mostly apart,” Birdie said.
Birdie’s jabs at Don were justified. He hadn’t been a very good son-in-law. There were things around the house that Birdie could have used a man’s help with after Katelyn’s father had died, but Don would rather pay a professional to do the work than take the time to travel to Texas and help his mother-in-law.
“He put the house up for sale, and we’ve already received an offer. And he wants Shirley to move into a retirement apartment.”
“He’s not letting any grass grow under his feet.”
“I’m guessing Lauren—his new lover—isn’t keen on Shirley living with them.”
“I don’t care for the way Shirley criticizes you.” Birdie sniffed. “Maybe she’s kept her figure all these years, but her hair is ridiculous. It looks like she’s walking around with a wild boar on top of her head.”
Katelyn laughed.
“You need to stand up for yourself, daughter.”
“I do when it’s important, but some things aren’t worth protesting.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were having marital problems?”
“I didn’t know Don was unhappy.”
“You mean you ignored all the signs.”
Katelyn opened her mouth to refute the charge, then snapped it closed. Was she guilty of voluntary blindness? Her mind raced through the past year, dissecting Don’s calls, his visits, his body language. He used to hug her and give her a long good-bye kiss. The last time he’d left on a business trip, he’d kissed her on the cheek.
Birdie stabbed her finger in the air. “Don is a pompous ass.”
Katelyn agreed, but no matter how big of a buffoon her husband was, she appreciated the privileged life he’d provided her and the kids. A life Katelyn’s father, working as a park ranger, could never have given Birdie in a million years.
“Remember when you brought Don home to meet me and your father?” Birdie said. “I invited him to sit down and he brushed his hand across the sofa fabric as if our furniture would dirty his clothes.”
Don’s obvious discomfort around Katelyn’s parents had put a damper on the visit, and they’d left early, using the excuse of having to prepare for exams.
“So did you come home for my birthday or because you needed a shoulder to cry on?”
“Can I say both?”
Birdie whisked a strand of Katelyn’s snarled hair out of her eyes. “I’m sorry you have to go through this.”
She rested her head against her mother’s shoulder. “Besides Shirley’s snootiness, why do you dislike her so much?”
“I’m jealous of her.”
“I know she’s lived a life of leisure, but—”
“It has nothing to do with her wealth.” Birdie sat up straight, forcing Katelyn to lift her head away. “I’ve been a widow seven years longer than Shirley, yet you and Don never invited me to move in with you.”
“You didn’t leave the stove on and go out all day.”
“It shouldn’t matter that my memory isn’t short-circuiting. Did you ever think I might have been lonely?”
>
The thought had never crossed Katelyn’s mind. “All your friends are here.”
“Maybe I wouldn’t have wanted to live with you all year-round, but I would have enjoyed spending a month each summer with you and the kids.”
“I invited you to fly up every Christmas.”
“I didn’t care to spend the holidays with your in-laws.”
“I said I was sorry that Shirley and Robert showed up unannounced that one time.” Katelyn couldn’t believe her mother was still miffed about the incident.
“You should have asked them to stay at a hotel, but instead you moved me out of the guest suite.”
A lump formed in Katelyn’s throat, blocking her airway.
“Remember when I broke my ankle last year?”
“Don and I said we’d cover any medical bills that your insurance didn’t pay for.”
“I didn’t want your money. I wanted you,” Birdie whispered.
“I offered to fly home, but you insisted your friends were taking good care of you.”
Birdie poured herself a third shot and tossed it back, then thunked the glass against the step. “I only said that after you made excuses about how you needed time to find rides for Melissa and Michael to their after-school activities.”
“I was thinking out loud, not making excuses.”
“Don should have taken a week off to stay at home with Shirley and the kids.”
Shame filled Katelyn. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” She reached for the bottle of schnapps. “Shirley will be out of the picture soon.”
“Putting that woman in an apartment of her own is the first smart thing Don’s done in years.”
Katelyn steered the conversation in a different direction. “I didn’t know Jackson was in town.”
“He moved back a few years ago.”
“You never told me.”
Birdie’s chest expanded, then slowly deflated when she released a loud breath. “You stopped coming out here after Shirley moved to St. Louis, so I didn’t think it mattered if you knew or not.” Birdie bumped Katelyn’s arm. “Aren’t you going to ask if he’s married?”
“I didn’t see a ring on his finger when he dropped off the mower.”
“So you looked.”
“Of course I looked.” Katelyn’s smile faded as she studied her wedding band. Until now she’d forgotten she still wore the symbol of love, commitment and loyalty. She twirled the platinum circle embedded with diamonds around her finger. Should she take it off or leave it on until the divorce was final? She pushed the thought to the back of her mind and said, “Jackson’s still as sexy as ever.”
Birdie tipped her head back and laughed. “Even on a good day, Don can’t hold a candle to Jackson’s looks.”
Katelyn sighed. Her life was a mess right now. The last thing she needed was to become involved with her old flame. But having a friend to talk to would be nice. Jackson had always been a good listener. Her gaze swung to the Mercedes. “I’ll try to keep Shirley out of your way.”
Birdie put her arm around Katelyn’s shoulder and squeezed. “I’m sorry about the divorce, but I’m glad you’re here.” She kissed the top of Katelyn’s head, then went into the house, leaving the bottle of schnapps behind.
As soon as the door shut, the tears she’d held at bay since leaving St. Louis leaked from Katelyn’s eyes. Birdie wasn’t a woman who wore her feelings on her sleeve—most strong women weren’t—but this was the first time after Katelyn left for college that her mother had come close to admitting she missed her daughter.
CHAPTER NINE
“You’re beating the hell out of that muffler.”
Jackson pushed his creeper out from beneath the van he’d been tinkering with since lunchtime. “For a man of God, you use the word hell out of context a lot.” Jackson sat up and reached for the can of Dr Pepper he’d set by the rear tire.
“And you drink too much of that stuff. Soda’s not healthy for you.”
Neither was alcohol. “Better than the alternative.” He noted the dark circles beneath the seventy-year-old preacher’s eyes. The loss of his wife this past winter weighed heavy on Vern, and his stooped frame stole an inch from his five-foot-ten height.
Vern made himself comfortable on the gold plaid sofa Jackson had purchased from Gifford’s Resale next door. He’d put the couch in the garage so Vern would have a place to sit and shoot the breeze when he stopped by every day. “You get into it with Abby again?” Jackson asked.
“I don’t understand how my daughter got to be so opinionated.”
The few times Jackson had run into Abby after she’d arrived in town to keep an eye on her father, he’d gotten the impression she was a woman who spoke her mind—like the preacher. “What’s Abby upset about now?”
“She says I smell.”
Jackson grinned. “Did you run out of Old Spice?”
“Abby hid my cologne and won’t give it back unless I shower before bed. How can I stink that bad when I sit around all day?”
Vern didn’t know that Jackson had been the one to beg Abby to return to town a month after her mother’s funeral, because he’d been terrified his sponsor would pick up the bottle again. Abby had taken a leave of absence from her job in Dallas and moved back to Little Springs to pull Vern out of his depression.
“Missed you at the meeting this morning.” Vern cleared his throat, the gravelly sound echoing through the cinder block garage. “Thought it might have to do with Katelyn being back in town.”
Vern knew Jackson better than Jackson knew himself. “Nope,” he lied. He’d skipped the Friday AA gathering because he hadn’t been able to focus since Katelyn had arrived on Monday. Every time he walked past the open bay doors, he glanced outside, hoping to catch a glimpse of her driving by or eating at Mama’s Kitchen across the street.
“I’m running behind on this repair job.” Jackson held the old man’s stare. Seeing Katelyn at Birdie’s house had shaken him. She’d looked as pretty as his memory of her. The angles of her face were sharper, more defined. She still had brown hair, but the strands were mixed with gold highlights now. Faint lines fanned from the outer corners of her eyes—eyes that were missing the spark he’d been drawn to back in high school. Katelyn had grown into a sophisticated, beautiful woman no one would ever guess had come from this Podunk town.
“Yesterday Sadie had breakfast at Mama’s Kitchen, and since Ginny runs the place, she hears all the latest gossip. Birdie told her that Katelyn answered the door when you returned the lawn mower.”
“I’ve got to get this van put back together by tomorrow,” Jackson said, hinting again that he didn’t care to discuss Katelyn.
“What did you two talk about?”
He wasn’t surprised Vern wouldn’t let the subject drop, because Jackson had spilled his guts to him years ago and had confessed how messed up he’d gotten after Katelyn had ended their relationship.
“Sadie said Katelyn brought her mother-in-law with her and Birdie’s not happy about that.”
Jackson guzzled the rest of the soda, then climbed to his feet and pitched the can into the trash. He glanced out the open bay door, his gaze traveling down the street to the Buy & Bag, where Birdie worked. She’d stopped by the garage two weeks ago and asked him if he’d take a look at her broken mower. He’d been happy to help, but it hadn’t been easy resisting the urge to ask about Katelyn.
“Can the church count on you to set up the tents for the Fourth of July chili cook-off?” Vern asked.
“Sure.”
“Gary mentioned a band from Odessa might play before the fireworks.”
“You’ve got too much time on your hands, old man. You need to get back to preaching.” After Elaine had been diagnosed with cancer, Vern had turned the pulpit over to the much younger Reverend Billy Ray Sanders and his wife, June. The handoff was supposed to have been tem
porary—until Vern regained his enthusiasm for God’s word—but so far his excitement extended only to attending Sunday services as a parishioner at the Grace Community Church.
“Might get a trim today,” Vern said.
“You keep getting a haircut at Sadie’s and you’ll turn into a Chatty Cathy like all the grayheads at the beauty shop.” Vern went to the salon once a week, not because he needed to, but because he missed having a woman fuss over him—his daughter, Abby, badgered.
“We could use another judge for the cooking competition. Ginny thinks she’s an expert on chili recipes.”
Jackson would not be attending the festivities. He moved away from the door and stretched out on the creeper, then pushed himself under the van.
“You’re stronger than you think, son.”
Jackson was stronger, but he didn’t want to test that strength. “You know crowds aren’t my thing.”
“You’ve been sober for a long time. Maybe you’ve gotten over your fear.”
“Back off, Vern.” Jackson would love to partake in the town’s celebration, but being around people made him nervous and fed his insecurities.
It hadn’t been easy making friends growing up in Little Springs. No one had wanted to hang out with the offspring of the town drunk. The kid whose mother had ditched him and his father in search of a better life. The only time Jackson had had friends as a teenager had been when he’d brought booze to a party. This Fourth of July he’d stick to drinking Dr Pepper and watching the fireworks from the window of his apartment over the garage.
Vern’s cell phone played Willie Nelson’s “Always on My Mind”—the ringtone he’d told Jackson that he’d assigned to his daughter’s number.
“You gonna answer that?” Jackson asked.
“Nope.”
He pushed himself out from beneath the van. “If you don’t, Abby will call me.”
Vern shrugged.
Stubborn geezer. Willie’s voice cut off and a moment later Jackson’s phone chimed. “Hello, Abby.”
“Is he with you?”
