The Future She Left Behind

by Marin Thomas

  “I finally cut my hair, and I still can’t please you,” Katelyn said.

  Shirley let the subject drop. “Birdie said Melissa’s back in the States.”

  “She called a few days ago when she made it safely to Sara’s home.”

  “Sara?”

  “Sara Kerns. She’s one of the incoming freshmen who went on the trip. Her family owns a horse farm in Georgia, and they invited Melissa to spend a few weeks there.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “Don’s going to be out of the country in August when school starts, so Mom and I are planning to meet Melissa at Stephens to help her move into her dorm. You’re welcome to join us.”

  “You and Birdie should go and spend time with her.”

  Katelyn was surprised her mother-in-law turned down the invite.

  Shirley pointed at the easel. “I had no idea you were this good.” Shirley was a pro at giving backhanded compliments.

  “I can’t help feeling that there’s something missing.”

  “The wrinkle across the bridge of her nose. It shows up when Layla smiles.”

  “You’re very observant.” Katelyn added a tiny crease in the skin between Layla’s eyes, then examined her work with a critical eye. “Perfect.” She wiped the tip of her brush on the paint rag. “You’ve had lunch with Vern five days in a row.”

  “Is there something the matter with that?”

  “Do you ever run out of things to talk about?”

  “We haven’t so far.”

  Katelyn prodded her. “You both live very different lives. I didn’t expect the two of you to have anything in common.”

  “He took Elaine to a symphony once, because she’d never been.”

  “So he’s cultured?”

  “A little.”

  “What about politics?”

  “We’ve agreed to disagree.”

  “Let me guess.” Katelyn laughed. “Vern’s in favor of expanding social programs to help the needy.” Shirley was in favor of the needy helping themselves.

  “Robert never cut a single piece of fruit during our marriage, but you should see the fancy way Vern carves a watermelon.” Shirley was smitten with the minister.

  “What’s his house like?”

  “Traditional. I offered several suggestions on updating the decor.”

  Shirley wasn’t a great cook and she detested cleaning, but she had a keen eye for decorating. Still . . . Katelyn doubted Vern had been receptive to changing his home after his wife had passed away less than a year ago.

  “Vern said Jackson invited you to visit his mother.”

  “We’re seeing her this Saturday.”

  Shirley picked at her nails—a nervous habit Katelyn had picked up on when she’d first met the woman years ago. “What’s the matter?”

  “I have a confession to make.”

  This ought to be interesting. “What’s that?”

  “I didn’t go to Jackson’s garage to ask about an oil change for the car.”

  “I figured you didn’t.”

  “I went to warn him away from you.”

  Katelyn set her paintbrush aside. “Why?”

  “I’d hoped there was still a chance you and Don might reconcile.”

  “And now . . . ?”

  “I realize what an ass my son has been.”

  Katelyn smiled. “Divorce doesn’t bring out the best in people, but you shouldn’t worry about Don. He’ll be fine.”

  “I’m not worried about him. He’ll get what’s coming to him eventually. It’s you I’m worried about.”

  “Me?”

  “Jackson’s not good enough for you.” Shirley held up her hand when Katelyn opened her mouth to insist her opinion didn’t matter. “I realize you grew up in Little Springs, but you left this town and bettered yourself. The last thing you want to do is go backward in life.”

  “If that’s true, why are you interested in Vern?”

  “My situation is unique.”

  There were always two standards—one for Shirley and one for everyone else. “How is your relationship with him different?”

  Shirley clasped her hands tightly and stared at the porch floor.

  As Katelyn had always suspected, her mother-in-law was afraid of being alone.

  “I’m going to ask Vern to come back to St. Louis with me.” Shirley looked Katelyn in the eye. “Before you accuse me of using him, you should know that although he’s not a man I would have associated with when I was younger, I like him very much, and I believe he’d make a nice companion.”

  “It doesn’t bother you that he’s a recovering alcoholic?”

  “It’s not something I plan to broadcast to people.”

  “Is he willing to sell his home in Little Springs and move into your apartment with you?”

  “I haven’t asked him to move in with me. I want him to see St. Louis first.”

  “What if he doesn’t like the city?”

  “Then I’ll spend more time with him in Little Springs.”

  “I can’t picture you living here permanently.”

  “The people are entertaining.”

  Oh, brother.

  Shirley got up from the chair. “Your mother is a little unpolished, but underneath her ugly capri pants and T-shirts is a sensible, clever woman.”

  “I’m sure Mom would be pleased to know you approve of her.”

  “If you inherited even a smidgen of Birdie’s common sense, you’ll realize Jackson isn’t the right man for you. He’ll hold you back.”

  The only person who had held Katelyn back all these years had been herself.

  A horn honked, and Shirley said, “That’s Vern.”

  “Don’t forget your purse.” Katelyn peeked through the window. “It’s sitting on the coffee table.”

  Shirley entered the house, and Katelyn watched her through the window, making sure she found the bag. When she backed away, she caught her reflection in the glass and plucked at her bangs.

  As she stared at her likeness, she realized that the old Katelyn—the one who’d second-guessed herself—had been replaced by a new Katelyn: a woman ready to take risks with her art. Ready to take her life in a new direction.

  A woman not afraid to fail.

  • • •

  “Next week you and your sponsor will spend the majority of the time evaluating your progress with the twelve steps,” Vern said. “Let’s bow our heads.”

  After he recited the Lord’s Prayer, the AA members folded their chairs and stacked them against the basement wall. Jackson stood by the church doorway and waited for Vern to say good-bye to each member.

  “Thought you’d be the first one out the door,” Vern said.

  It was no secret that even after three years Jackson wasn’t comfortable at the Friday meetings. “I’ll walk you home,” he said.

  “Shirley’s picking me up”—Vern checked his watch—“in an hour.”

  They left the church and turned the corner at the end of the block. Vern’s house sat across from the town park. “Have you talked to Abby?” Jackson asked.

  “She left a voice mail message.” He snagged Jackson’s arm and they stopped walking. “Is she checking up on me?”

  Abby had phoned Jackson three times in the past two days, because her father hadn’t returned her calls. “She wants to make sure you’re okay.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” Vern grumbled beneath his breath.

  “Abby’s happy to be back at work,” Jackson said. “She’s dating her boss.” Layla had caught him up on Abby’s life after he’d run into her at Mama’s Kitchen that morning.

  “Abby’s coworkers don’t know about her and the boss,” Vern said.

  “If you want, I’ll drive you to Dallas so you can check this guy out.”

&
nbsp; “And embarrass my daughter?” Vern chuckled. “I’ll think about it.”

  “You’ve adjusted really well to Abby’s absence.”

  “I’m not proud that I begged my daughter to stay with me after her mother passed away.”

  “She’d do anything for you.” Jackson slowed his steps when they reached the park. He motioned to the bench near the flower bed and they sat. “You haven’t acted this happy since before Elaine became ill.”

  “Shirley keeps me on my toes.” Vern frowned. “What is it you want to talk to me about?”

  “What happens when Shirley leaves?”

  “She asked me to go to St. Louis with her.” Vern glanced at Jackson. “I told her I’d think about it.”

  “You should take Shirley up on the offer.”

  “You told me I needed to return to the pulpit, and Reverend Sanders expects me to take over services in October.”

  “The town can find another minister. Besides, you can preach the word of God in St. Louis if you decide to move there permanently.”

  “What about you?” Vern asked.

  Jackson scowled. “You’re not worried I’ll start drinking again, are you?”

  “No, but—”

  “No buts, Vern. You’ve had my back since before I opened the garage. As much as I appreciate all you’ve done for me, it’s time you put yourself first. I’ll miss you, but I won’t fall apart if you leave town.”

  “I didn’t think you would.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “Maybe a little.” Vern scuffed the toe of his shoe against the grass. “What are my chances of talking Shirley into moving here?”

  Jackson laughed. “Zero to none.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.”

  “What about a compromise?” Jackson asked.

  “Compromise?”

  “Spend the summers in St. Louis and the rest of the year here.”

  Vern rubbed his chin. “I’d have to see if Reverend Sanders would be willing to fill in during the summer.”

  “If he can’t, then the town will find another minister to take over for three months.”

  “Elaine’s only been gone—”

  “Elaine would want you to be happy.”

  Vern dropped his gaze. “I know she would.”

  “Promise me that if you stay in Little Springs, it’s because you want to and not because you’re worried about me.”

  Vern place his hand over his heart. “Whatever I decide will be best for me and no one else.”

  “Good.” Jackson checked his cell phone. “You’d better get going. You’ve got a half hour to spruce up for Shirley.”

  When they reached his house, Vern said, “I’d need someone to run the AA meetings if I go to St. Louis.”

  “I’ll step up.” He meant it. Conducting the meetings would help him become more comfortable opening up to people. “See you later.”

  After Vern closed the front door, Jackson walked off, wondering if he asked Katelyn to stay in Little Springs, what the chances were of her saying yes.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  A knock sounded on Jackson’s apartment door early Saturday afternoon. His nerves had been stretched taut since he’d woken in the morning, because he knew Katelyn was tagging along with him to visit his mother. He removed the pie from the fridge, hoping his mom wouldn’t be disappointed—Ginny had been under the weather yesterday and hadn’t baked any peach pies, so he’d settled for lemon. When he opened the door, Katelyn nodded to the pastry box.

  “Usually a guy gives a girl flowers on a date, not a pie,” she said.

  He struggled to keep a straight face. “It’s not for you.”

  “Oh.”

  He stepped outside and then motioned for her to precede him down the stairs. He followed, his eyes glued to the swish-sway of her fanny. “What are you wearing?” he asked when they reached the pavement.

  She plucked at the blue floral material. “Palazzo pants. They’re comfortable.”

  “I like the way they show off your ass.”

  Her laughter settled his nerves. “One out of two isn’t bad.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t like my haircut, but you like my pants.”

  He led the way to his truck, then held the passenger-side door open and waited while she secured her seat belt before he handed over the bakery box. After he got behind the wheel, he started the engine and flipped on the air conditioner. “You caught me off guard.”

  She brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “I don’t care what anyone thinks of my new hairstyle. I like it.”

  “It’s nice.” He stared into her eyes. “But seeing you in short hair made me realize that we can never go back to the way things were between us.”

  “Did you think we could?” she asked.

  He backed the truck away from the Dumpster. “I thought we could forget the past twenty-some years and pick up where we left off.”

  “But we’re not the same people.”

  “I know.” He squeezed the steering wheel, grappling with how to explain his fear of being left behind again.

  “I’m ready to move forward with my life, but that doesn’t mean you can’t join me.” Her lips flirted with a smile. “That is, if you want to hitch a ride with someone who doesn’t have a clue where she’s going.”

  “Getting lost can be fun.” He turned onto the street and headed south out of town.

  “How come you didn’t talk about your mother when we dated?” she asked.

  “It was bad enough that people gossiped about my dad’s drinking.”

  “How did you and your mom reconnect?”

  “I found out she and her husband had been in a car accident when a rehabilitation hospital in San Diego contacted me. My mother was ready to be released, and they wanted to know if I was coming to get her.”

  “That must have been a shock.”

  “The accident killed her husband and left her paralyzed from the waist down,” Jackson said.

  “That’s terrible. Did you know she’d gotten married?”

  “Nope.”

  “So you two have made amends?” Katelyn asked.

  “I wouldn’t say that.” His mother had never asked for his forgiveness and he’d never offered it. “We don’t talk about the past.” He shrugged. “She needed help finding a place to live. The guy she married left her well-off. Money isn’t an issue.”

  “That’s fortunate for her.”

  “We decided it would be best if she moved to Odessa so I could check on her. She rents a guesthouse on a property outside of town.”

  “Have you thought of moving her to Little Springs?”

  “Her doctors are in Odessa, and it would be difficult to find visiting nurses willing to make the drive to Little Springs.” Even though he’d allowed his mother back into his life, Jackson wasn’t comfortable around her and he liked keeping some distance between them.

  He turned on the radio and focused on his driving—the stretch of I-20 between Little Springs and Odessa was known as Armadillo Armageddon. He’d be lucky if he didn’t run over one of the stupid pests. Thirty minutes later he parked in front of the rental house.

  “Does she know I’m coming?” Katelyn asked.

  “Yes.” He got out of the pickup, then opened Katelyn’s door and took the bakery box from her. When they reached the house, he knocked instead of walking in. “It’s me, Jackson.”

  “Door’s unlocked!”

  “You first.” Jackson opened the door.

  Katelyn wasn’t sure what a woman who’d abandoned her child would look like, but the frail, petite mother with salt-and-pepper hair didn’t appear strong enough to hurt a fly.

  “Mom, this is my friend Katelyn. Katelyn, this is my mother, Nicole Parker.”

  “N
ice to meet you, Mrs. Parker.”

  “Call me Nicole.”

  “Ginny ran out of peach pies.” Jackson set the bakery box on the kitchen counter. “I brought you a lemon instead.”

  “Thanks, honey.”

  Honey. The endearment sounded natural and spontaneous, as if the woman had called her son that for years and not only when he’d been a little boy.

  “Sit down.” Nicole waved them to the couch in front of the window. “Jackson tells me you and he dated in high school.”

  “We did,” Katelyn said. “Then I went off to college in Columbia, Missouri.”

  “I understand you’re a very good artist.”

  Katelyn flashed Jackson a smile. “I’ll find out how good I am when I show my work at the Pecos Art Festival.”

  “My husband was creative. He used to make furniture out of old car parts.”

  “Jackson’s father?”

  “No. Ken, my second husband,” Nicole said.

  Katelyn listened as mother and son talked about the weather and Mendoza Auto. The pair didn’t act as if they’d reconnected after years of no contact. Maybe they were putting on a good show for her. Or maybe ignoring the past was the only way forward for them.

  Nicole pushed her wheelchair closer to the coffee table. “I can’t remember where Jackson said you live now?”

  “St. Louis,” Katelyn answered.

  Nicole’s gaze dropped to Katelyn’s bare ring finger. “Will you be moving to Little Springs after your divorce?”

  Surprised Jackson had told his mother so much about her, she said, “I’m not sure, but I haven’t ruled it out.”

  “And I hear you have twins.”

  “Michael and Melissa. They’ll be freshmen in college this fall.”

  “And your soon-to-be ex-husband . . . what does he do?”

  “He works for a company called NicorTrune.”

  A knock interrupted Nicole’s interrogation. Jackson answered the door, then said, “I’ll be right back.”

  “That’s Joan,” Nicole said. “Her husband isn’t very handy, and she asks Jackson to fix things when he visits.”

  Katelyn watched the pair through the window. Joan smiled at something Jackson said, and she winced when the little green monster pinched her.