by Marin Thomas
With Vern’s encouragement and a whole lot of AA meetings under his belt, Jackson had been able to place Katelyn on his shelf of life experiences and move on. But he hadn’t expected to have to move on from her twice in one lifetime.
When he approached the outskirts of Odessa, he took a frontage road and traveled a half mile before pulling into the driveway of a yellow Victorian with black shutters. He drove to the end of the lot, where a small, nondescript guesthouse sat. Joan Kimble stepped onto the back porch of the Victorian after Jackson got out of his pickup.
“Hi, Joan.”
“I see you brought another peach pie.”
“Wouldn’t show up without one.”
“Enjoy your visit.”
“Happy Fourth of July.” Jackson knocked on the front door, then turned the knob and walked in.
“I was hoping you’d bring a pie,” Nicole Parker said.
“Hi, Mom.” He set the bakery box on the kitchen counter, then gave her a kiss on the cheek before he settled on the couch. Even though he saw her twice a month, she looked as if she aged a year between each visit. “How are you?”
“Fair to middling.” She swung her wheelchair around and pushed herself closer to the coffee table. “Joan took me to a doctor’s appointment last week and my blood pressure was a little high. Dr. Hamilton changed my prescription.”
He never knew what to say when his mother discussed her health. A year ago a car accident had left her paralyzed from the waist down. The crash had killed her second husband—the man she’d married after she’d divorced Jackson’s father.
He’d been caught off guard nine months ago when he’d gotten a call from a rehabilitation center in San Diego, informing him that his mother was ready to be released. After the shock had worn off, he’d made the trip to California, thinking all he had to do was find her an apartment and then return to Texas. He hadn’t expected to see his mother in a wheelchair.
Since her husband was dead and she had no other kids or family except him, Jackson had brought her back to Texas and moved her into Joan’s guesthouse—close enough to Little Springs for him to check on her but far enough away that she wasn’t part of his day-to-day life. Three times a week a visiting nurse came in to help her shower, do laundry and clean the house. His mother paid Joan to do the grocery shopping and chauffeur her to doctor appointments.
Over the past several months as they’d become reacquainted, it was clear his mother remembered the past differently. She hadn’t kept in touch with him through the years, but she claimed she’d written numerous letters, insisting Jackson’s father must have tossed them into the trash. Jackson didn’t believe her, because he’d brought the mail in every day. He figured she told the lie because it made living with the guilt of abandoning her child easier.
At times he questioned his motive for reconnecting with his mother. Vern believed Jackson had forgiven her, but it was more complicated than that. His visits had served as a reminder to avoid personal relationships. His father’s drinking had destroyed their family and made his mother turn her back on her only child. Nothing good came from being married to a drunk.
Jackson hadn’t had a sip of booze in years, but he still had a lot of living to do, and without a crystal ball to see the future, he had no way of knowing if he’d be sober next week, let alone five years from now. Every day he woke up fighting on two fronts: remaining sober and wanting to remain sober.
“How’s that neighbor of yours who works at the church?” his mother asked.
“Vern?”
“I don’t know why I have trouble remembering his name.”
“He has a new lady friend.”
“That’s nice.” She stared out the front window.
Jackson hadn’t mentioned Katelyn. He didn’t see the point when he had no idea what was going to happen between them. He hadn’t spoken to or run into Katelyn since he’d interrupted her sketching at their private spot. He’d acted like a jerk when he’d stalked off, after she’d called him out on his antisocial behavior. He’d given up booze, returned to his hometown to run a business—didn’t that prove he’d moved on from the past?
But what if Katelyn was right and he was still holding himself back?
“Are you going over to the lake to watch the fireworks?” his mother asked, interrupting his thoughts.
He shook his head.
“Joan offered to drive me into Odessa to watch them go off at the park, but I don’t want to get eaten by mosquitoes.” She smiled. “How’s work?”
“Business is steady.”
“If you need a loan, I can give you one.” His mother’s deceased husband had managed a car dealership and had invested his savings in the stock market. The money, along with a life insurance policy, had left Jackson’s mother well-off, but he’d have to be in dire straits before he took her cash.
He searched for something to talk about and when his gaze landed on the stack of books sitting next to the TV, he asked, “What are you reading?”
She rolled her chair across the room and picked up the book on top of the pile. “The Life and Times of Lily Mills. It’s about an orphaned girl living in New York City during the late eighteen hundreds.”
That topic exhausted, he asked, “Is there anything you need me to repair while I’m here?”
“There’s a loose shelf in the kitchen cabinet.”
“I’ll take a look.” He searched each cupboard until he found the wobbly shelf, then fetched a screwdriver from the toolbox in his truck.
After tightening the shelf, he checked the others. When he went back into the living room, he found his mother asleep. Without making too much noise, he cut her a piece of pie, placed a fork on the plate, then covered it with plastic wrap and set it on the coffee table before slipping out the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“It’s getting warm in here.” Shirley’s voice echoed from the kitchen.
Katelyn stopped at the bottom of the stairs and slipped into her sandals. Earlier in the morning she’d taken her sketch to the park for the silent auction and then she’d worked at the grocery store until noon. Abby had volunteered to take the afternoon shift until Walter closed the store for the day at five.
“It might hit a hundred degrees today. Don’t you have a short-sleeve blouse to wear?” Birdie asked.
“I wanted to look nice for Vern when I help him hand out samples of his chili.”
“You and Vern are becoming pretty chummy.”
“He’s a charming man.”
Birdie snorted. “You like Vern because he lets you boss him around.”
“I am not bossy.”
Uh-oh. The old ladies were getting testy with each other.
“Where’s my purse?”
“It should be out in the hallway,” Birdie said.
Katelyn glanced at the empty table by the door. Shirley’s purse had been there earlier in the morning when Katelyn had left the house.
“I put it on the table last night when I went to bed,” Shirley said.
“I’m sure it’ll turn up somewhere,” Birdie said.
“I hope Vern’s recipe wins today.”
“I doubt he’ll win if you helped him in the kitchen.”
“I kept him company while he did all the cooking.”
“You two are inseparable,” Birdie said.
“Is there something wrong with that?”
“No. I’m sure you’ve been lonely since Robert died.”
Shirley huffed. “I might miss my husband more if he hadn’t cheated on me ten years ago with his secretary.”
Katelyn gasped.
“I didn’t know,” Birdie said.
“I never told Don or Katelyn.”
“I’ll pour us a drink.” Chair legs scraped across the floor; then Katelyn heard the squeaking pantry door open and close. “Wh
y’d you stay with Robert?”
Shirley coughed. “This stuff is awful.”
“Cheap rotgut takes getting used to.”
“I stayed because I didn’t have a choice,” Shirley said.
“Everyone has a choice.”
“What would I have done with myself if I’d divorced Robert?”
“Find a job. Or another husband.”
Katelyn wasn’t surprised by the advice. Her mother was a practical woman.
“I didn’t want my friends pitying me or gossiping behind my back.”
“You shouldn’t care what other people think.”
“Easy for you to say when your friends accept you for who you are. The women I socialized with had higher standards.”
“Maybe you should have found new friends.”
“You should encourage Katelyn to contest the divorce. I think Don is having a midlife crisis and he’ll come to his senses soon.”
Katelyn waltzed into the kitchen, intent on putting an end to her mother-in-law’s fantasy once and for all. “I don’t want to work things out with Don.” She removed her wedding band in front of Shirley, then opened her mother’s junk drawer and dropped it inside. She honestly didn’t know why she’d waited until now. She’d been married to Don in her head all these years but not in her heart for a very long time.
Birdie held up her drinking glass, her eyes sparkling with humor. “Care to join us for a cocktail before we leave for the park?”
“No, thank you.” Katelyn put the cap back on the schnapps bottle. “And you two need to lay off this stuff.” She returned the bottle to the pantry. What in the world? “Shirley, why is your purse in here?” The white leather bag sat on the shelf between the potato chips and a box of cereal.
“I didn’t put it there,” Shirley said.
Katelyn looked at Birdie and her mother shrugged.
“I don’t understand why you wouldn’t want to save your marriage,” Shirley said.
“I’d never be able to trust Don.” When Shirley opened her mouth to protest, Katelyn set the purse on the table and said, “I don’t love Don. Not the way a husband deserves to be loved.”
“Then you shouldn’t have married my son in the first place.”
“I was scared.”
“Of what?” Birdie asked.
Katelyn spread her arms wide. “I was afraid I’d end up back here in Little Springs after I graduated from college. I wanted to move forward with my life. Not backward.” She drew in a deep breath. “I cared for Don, but I don’t know that I ever loved him.”
Shirley’s eyes watered and she looked ready to cry. “I need to freshen my makeup before we leave.” She took her purse and escaped into the powder room beneath the stairs.
Katelyn felt horrible that she’d upset her mother-in-law. “I can’t let her guilt me into trying to fight for a marriage I don’t want to be in anymore.”
“Shirley’s afraid of losing you,” Birdie said. “She doesn’t want to be alone.”
“I’ve taken care of her for the past three years. It’s Don’s turn.”
“How can he look after her when he travels all the time?” Birdie asked. “Shirley’s a pampered princess. Leaving her on her own would be like turning a puppy loose in the woods and expecting it to survive.”
“I can’t believe you’re defending her.”
“Me, neither,” Birdie said. “But it’s possible you might be stuck with your mother-in-law the rest of your life.”
“You’re joking, right?”
Birdie’s eyes shifted to the kitchen doorway. “She’s not that bad if you ignore most of what she says.”
“Don’t tell me you two are becoming friends.”
Birdie smiled. “Stranger things have happened in this town.”
• • •
The silent auction was closing in a half hour, so Katelyn perused the items one last time before putting in a bid on a basket of spa supplies and a makeover from Sadie’s hair salon; then she moved on to her sketch, excited to see the highest bid was three hundred dollars. Not bad for a few hours of work.
She studied the drawing with a critical eye.
“What’s the matter?” Birdie stopped at her side.
“Something’s off in the picture, but I can’t figure out what it is.”
Her mother narrowed her eyes. “That’s you hiding in the boxcar, isn’t it?”
“No.”
Birdie laughed. “It’s you all right.”
“It’s a pair of eyes. The body’s hidden in the shadows. It could be a boy or a girl, depending on the viewer’s perspective.”
“This viewer says it’s you.” Birdie wagged her finger. “You had that same wary look in your eyes the night before you left for college.”
“I did not.” Katelyn took her mother by the arm and led her away from the tables. “I was excited to finally get out of this one-horse town.”
“Yes, but you were worried about leaving Jackson behind.”
“Maybe.”
“You know why you were worried?”
She didn’t bother answering, because her mother would speak her mind regardless. “You’d already decided that you wouldn’t return to Little Springs after you finished school.”
Katelyn didn’t want to talk about Jackson. “Did you eat supper?”
“I had some of Vern’s fake four-alarm chili an hour ago, but I could use a drink.”
They cut across the grass to the concession stand. “Are you and Shirley going home to relax before the fireworks?”
“I hadn’t planned on it,” Birdie said. “Last year they shot them off at dusk.”
“Where is Shirley?” Katelyn asked when they moved forward in the line.
“With Vern. Where else would she be?”
“Abby has her reservations about Shirley.” Katelyn purchased two lemonades; then they sat at a table in the refreshment tent. “How are the others in the ladies’ society getting along with my mother-in-law?”
“Miss Prissy Pants amuses them.”
“Her apartment will be ready to move into soon. If she becomes too big of a pain, I’ll drive her back to St. Louis.”
“Vern might have something to say about Shirley leaving town.”
Katelyn glanced at the chili tent. The happy couple stood side by side, handing out plastic sample cups. “Why haven’t you dated since Dad died?”
“I like my own space.” She smiled at Katelyn. “And I’m too old to coddle a husband.”
“You don’t get lonely?” Katelyn asked, then squirmed under her mother’s probing stare.
“Are you afraid of being alone?”
“Maybe a little.” Katelyn wasn’t the kind of woman who needed attention from a man. If she were, she’d have filed for divorce when Don began traveling. “I already miss the kids and they haven’t officially started college.”
“Michael and Melissa are a lot like you. They’re not afraid of leaving home.”
“No, they’re not.”
“Aren’t you eager to devote more of your time to painting?”
“Yes.” She was excited but also nervous.
“Did you know Mavis played the drums in high school?”
Katelyn shook her head.
“And both Etta and Faye play the piano.” Birdie lowered her voice. “And since I play the guitar, we’re going to start a garage band.”
Katelyn choked on a swallow of lemonade. “No offense, but you’re a little old to be playing in a band.” Much less in someone’s garage.
“Of course we’re old, but who cares? Doris is letting us use her place to practice.”
“Have you picked a name for your band?”
“Harriet came up with the Hot Tamales.”
“Why would Harriet get a say in the name?”
&n
bsp; “She’s the band manager.”
“What about Nanette? What’s she going to do?”
“She can play the wood block or the triangle.”
Katelyn grinned.
“I’ve already written a song,” Birdie said. “It’s called ‘No Men Allowed.’”
“Are you going to perform somewhere?”
“Harriet got the okay from Reverend Sanders to play at the congregation’s fish fry in September. But we’ll need a trial run before that.” Birdie stared down the street. “Jackson’s watching from his apartment window.”
Katelyn followed her mother’s gaze down the block to the window above the auto repair shop. She could barely make out his shadow behind the glass.
“He did the same thing last year. Stood in the window, watching the fireworks by himself.” Birdie pushed her chair back. “I’ve got to find the group. The Hot Tamales are sitting together.”
“See you later,” Katelyn said, tearing her gaze away from the garage. She’d love to ask Jackson to join her for the fireworks, but he’d made it clear that he and crowds didn’t mix.
Reverend Sanders’s voice came over the loudspeakers, announcing the end of the silent auction, and Katelyn mingled with the group of spectators, eager to find out who’d won her sketch.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The Pecos Chamber of Commerce set off fireworks over the waters of Catfish Bay, a mile north of Little Springs. The town had a clear view of the sky above Birdie’s house, and the park was crowded with Little Springs residents and families who lived in the outlying areas. The only view better than the one from Jackson’s bedroom window was the one from Birdie’s front porch.
Jackson searched for Katelyn in the sea of people gathered in the park. He hadn’t planned on coming out of his apartment after he’d returned from visiting his mother, but the memory of watching the fireworks down by the railroad tracks with Katelyn her last summer in town had dragged him outside.
He spotted her speaking with Gifford, who held Katelyn’s sketch from the silent auction. Jackson balled his fingers into fists. If he’d had the guts, he would have left his apartment before dusk and outbid the junk-store dealer.
