The Future She Left Behind

by Marin Thomas

  “Do you care for my son?”

  Startled, Katelyn said, “Pardon?”

  “I sense Jackson has strong feelings for you.”

  “We have a special history together.” Katelyn wasn’t comfortable with Nicole’s nosy questions, and didn’t feel the woman had a right to ask them.

  Jackson’s mother must have read her mind, because she said, “I hurt my son when I left. That’s something I have to live with, but it doesn’t mean I don’t care about him.” She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t want you to hurt him.”

  If Nicole knew how badly Katelyn had hurt her son years ago, she’d run her over with the wheelchair. But how could Katelyn promise not to hurt Jackson again when she had no idea what a future for them looked like? “Why did you leave Jackson’s father?”

  “Ricky was never going to stop drinking.” Nicole’s chin jutted in the air. “He didn’t hit me, but he threatened to, and I knew if I stayed, it was only a matter of time before I got a black eye.”

  “Weren’t you worried that he’d abuse Jackson after you left?”

  “No. He never yelled at our son. Half the time he didn’t even know the boy was around.” She straightened her shoulders. “I gave Jackson forty dollars and told him that if things got bad, he could buy a bus ticket and leave town.”

  Leave town to go where? Katelyn clamped her mouth shut, afraid she’d say something she couldn’t take back.

  “My son was better off staying behind where he had a roof over his head and food on the table.”

  Katelyn’s throat grew tight as she envisioned a miniature version of Jackson pleading with his mother not to leave.

  “I begged him not to turn out like his father.” She expelled a deep sigh. “But he ended up like Ricky—an alcoholic who works on cars.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with being a mechanic.”

  “It’s an honest living, but he won’t ever be able to afford luxuries.”

  Nicole sounded like Shirley. “Luxury is overrated.” If anyone knew that, it was Katelyn.

  “I’m sure you don’t believe I have a right to ask anything of my son.” Nicole wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “I realize every visit is a gift from him that I don’t deserve.”

  Katelyn was spared from responding when the front door opened and Jackson walked in. “I fixed the leaky spigot on the side of Joan’s house.”

  “Cut us a piece of pie, will you?” Nicole asked.

  “Sure.”

  “I’ll help.” Katelyn joined him in the kitchen, eager to escape Nicole’s scrutiny.

  The visit lasted a half hour longer, and then Jackson said, “I need to get back to the garage.”

  “It was nice meeting you, Nicole.” Katelyn flashed a quick smile, then slipped out the door, allowing Jackson a moment of privacy with his mother.

  “You hungry?” he asked after he climbed into his pickup and they drove off.

  “Not really.” Was he looking for an excuse not to take her home? “Shirley’s out with Vern, and Mom’s over at Etta and Faye’s, helping them with their garden. We can talk at the house.”

  Jackson turned on the radio and they listened to country music on the way home.

  Little Springs would always be Katelyn’s home, but this summer the town was beginning to feel a lot like a place she belonged.

  When they reached Birdie’s, she poured glasses of iced tea and they sat on the back porch.

  “Katelyn?”

  “Yes?”

  “Did Don try to talk you out of signing the divorce papers when he came to town?”

  “No. We’re both ready to move on.”

  “For what it’s worth . . . I wish things would have worked out for you two.”

  She studied Jackson. “You really mean that.”

  “Your happiness has always been important to me.”

  “I’m working on it.” She bumped his shoulder. “Same goes for you.”

  “I’m working on it, too.”

  “You know what would make me happy right now?” She turned her head toward him.

  “This?” He leaned across his chair and brushed his lips over hers, but the moment he deepened the kiss, a horn honked.

  Birdie had horrible timing.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Katelyn walked into an empty kitchen Sunday morning to find a fresh pot of coffee and a note from her mother.

  Helping Doris clean her house after church. Tell Walter I’ll come into the store later this afternoon.

  Mom

  Katelyn glanced out the window. The Taurus was gone, but Shirley’s Mercedes sat parked in front of the storage shed. She poured herself a cup of coffee, hoping the caffeine would charge her batteries. She’d had trouble sleeping last night, thinking about Jackson’s mother. She couldn’t imagine how difficult it had been for him to allow Nicole back into his life after she’d been AWOL all these years.

  He’s letting you back into his life after you left him.

  Jackson could be very persuasive, and Katelyn had known that if she waited to break up with him until she went home from college for the holidays, he would have changed her mind.

  The back door opened, startling Katelyn out of her trance. Shirley waltzed into the kitchen with her blouse buttoned crooked, her hair messed up and no lipstick. Katelyn struggled not to laugh when she said, “Your sandals are on the wrong feet.” A horn honked, and she looked out the screen door. Vern was dangling Shirley’s purse out the window of his pickup. “You forgot your purse.”

  Shirley returned outside, and Katelyn spied on the two lovebirds. Vern wouldn’t let go of her purse when Shirley made a grab for it, and she giggled. A minute later she climbed the porch steps and entered the kitchen.

  “Did you stay the night at Vern’s?”

  “We didn’t do anything bad.”

  She’d like to know Shirley’s definition of bad but didn’t ask.

  “Sit down and I’ll pour you a cup of coffee.” Katelyn removed a mug from the cupboard, filled it to the brim and then joined Shirley at the table. Her mother-in-law’s gaze pinged around the kitchen, landing everywhere but on Katelyn. “You must have done something sort of bad”—Katelyn stared at Shirley’s feet—“unless your disheveled appearance is the result of being mauled by a feral cat while you went for a morning walk in your rhinestone sandals.”

  “Don’t you dare say a word to anyone. Not even Birdie.” Shirley sipped her coffee. “Vern and I got to talking last night and time slipped away from us. I didn’t want to disturb you and your mother, so I slept at his house.”

  Katelyn had to ask. “In his bed?”

  Shirley scowled. “No, in the guest room.”

  “Who crawled in with who?” Katelyn couldn’t help but laugh. “Women your age still have sex, you know.”

  Shirley went to the pantry and confiscated a box of Entenmann’s donuts. “It was the most romantic night I’ve experienced in I can’t remember how long.”

  Katelyn grinned over the rim of her coffee cup. Did Shirley even realize she was eating junk food?

  “Vern makes me feel young.” A dreamy sparkle filled her mother-in-law’s eyes. “I’ve felt so old since Robert died.” She shook her head. “When Vern looks at me, I swear he sees the young girl I once was.”

  Katelyn waited for her to finish the pastry, then asked, “What are your plans for the future?”

  “Vern’s returning to the pulpit.”

  “He’s not traveling with us when we leave Little Springs?”

  “I won’t be going back with you,” Shirley said. “Vern and I plan to visit St. Louis in September so that I can arrange to have a few of my belongings shipped here.”

  “You’re moving to Little Springs permanently?”

  “We’ll spend the summers at my apartment in St. Louis and then the rest
of the year here.”

  “It’s probably a good idea to keep the apartment in case you go stir-crazy in Little Springs,” Katelyn said.

  “I’m keeping the apartment so the kids have a place to stay when they visit their father or friends in St. Louis.”

  “That’s very thoughtful, but will management allow them to be there when you’re not?” Katelyn pictured the twins having wild parties in the apartment.

  “Don said I’m allowed to have guests as long as they’re eighteen or older.”

  “I’m sure he’ll have room for the kids wherever he ends up.”

  “Michael and Melissa may not want to stay with Don and that slutty girlfriend of his.”

  Katelyn grinned. Lauren was in for a big surprise when she discovered what kind of baggage Don came with.

  “I never believed you were good enough for Don.” Shirley shook her head. “I always thought my son would marry a wealthy girl from a prominent Kansas City family. A girl who lived in a beautiful home. Who knew how to dress and accessorize and was no stranger to spas and beauty salons. I never imagined he’d choose a girl from a little backwoods town in Texas whose mother worked as a cashier at a grocery store and whose father spent his days trekking through the woods.”

  Considering the source and the lens through which Shirley viewed the world, Katelyn didn’t take offense at the insults. “I’m sure it was a shock.”

  “There is a bright side to Don divorcing you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’d never have met Vern or your mother’s friends if my son had decided to keep you around.”

  Katelyn left the table and dumped the remainder of her coffee down the drain. “I can’t believe I almost didn’t bring you home with me this summer.” She turned away from the sink. “So when’s the wedding?”

  “I’m not marrying Vern.”

  “But—”

  “It’s too soon after his wife died.”

  “You’re probably smart not to rush into anything.” Katelyn was happy for Shirley and admittedly relieved her mother-in-law had someone else to latch onto. “I’ve got to get ready for work.”

  “Where’s Birdie?”

  “She’s helping Doris clean her house before she clocks in at the grocery store this afternoon.”

  Shirley stood up. “Vern’s making dinner for me tonight.”

  “If you keep sneaking in after curfew, you should have your own set of keys to the house.”

  Shirley ignored the suggestion and walked out of the room.

  Katelyn checked the clock. She had an hour to get ready for work, and if she hurried, she could steal a half hour to work on another painting.

  • • •

  Layla waved her over as soon as Katelyn walked up to the registers late Sunday morning.

  “What’s going on?” Katelyn asked, noticing the sparkle in her coworker’s eye.

  “Brian and I talked last night, and we both agreed that we wouldn’t date anyone else.”

  “So it’s official—you’re in a relationship?”

  Layla smiled.

  “What made you decide to give Brian a chance?”

  “He may not be Mr. Moneybags, but he works hard and my son is at the age where he needs a male role model in his life.”

  “So you’re dating Brian because of Gavin?”

  “Gavin’s a big part of why I’m giving this relationship an honest chance, but last night when I told Brian I dreamed of being a massage therapist and working in an upscale spa, he said he’d keep an eye on Gavin if I wanted to go back to school.”

  “That’s great. Are you thinking of moving in together?”

  “Brian says we should, but I don’t want to rush things. Tomorrow I have an appointment with an admissions counselor at the community college in Midland to find out what kind of financial aid I qualify for.”

  “I’m excited for you, Layla. I hope things work out.”

  “I heard you went to see Jackson’s mother yesterday.”

  “It was awkward meeting her for the first time.”

  “Didn’t you already know her?”

  “Jackson’s mother left town years before he and I dated.”

  The doors opened and a family of four walked into the store, grabbed a cart and headed to the produce section.

  “What about you?” Layla asked. “Are you and Jackson officially in a relationship?”

  “We’re taking things one day at a time like you and Brian.” She’d hurt Jackson once before because she’d wanted to go off and find herself. The last thing she cared to do was inflict another wound when she was still searching for answers.

  “I wish you’d move back to Little Springs,” Layla said. “Even though you’re older than me, I think we could be good friends.”

  Katelyn laughed. “We get along well, don’t we?”

  “And”—Layla spread her arms wide—“when Abby visits her father, the three of us could plan a girls’ weekend and go somewhere.”

  Walter’s head popped out of his office. “Layla, would you take inventory in the health-and-beauty aisle?”

  “Sure.” Layla removed the handheld computer scanner from beneath her counter. “Are you nervous about the art festival next Sunday?”

  “A little.”

  “You should ask for a couple of days off this week so you can get ready for the show.”

  “My mom offered to work some of my hours, but she’s having fun with her music and I don’t want to bother her.”

  “Walter hired Harriet’s niece, Kim. She starts tomorrow, and he said she’s looking for as many hours as she can get. I bet she’d take a few of your shifts, and I can work overtime.”

  “Thanks, Layla. I’ll talk to Walter before I leave today.”

  “Brian’s coming with me to the festival. He says he might buy one of your pieces.”

  And Katelyn knew exactly which one he was interested in.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  The Pecos art show was in full swing by noon on the first Sunday in August. Katelyn’s booth sat smack-dab in the middle of the town square. She’d been hoping for a spot near the sidewalk, but her late entry had landed her in a maze of stands.

  “How’s it going?” Birdie held out a bottle of water she’d purchased from a food truck.

  “Thanks.” Katelyn waved to the canvas over her head. “It was nice of Vern to let me use one of the church tents. It feels more like a hundred degrees out here than the ninety the weatherman forecasted.”

  “I ran into Shirley a few minutes ago. She and Vern will be by after they grab a bite to eat.” Birdie picked up an empty soda cup from the ground and tossed it into a nearby garbage can. “Is Jackson coming?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You didn’t invite him?”

  Katelyn shook her head. The art festival was a larger event than the Fourth of July celebration in Little Springs, and she didn’t want to pressure Jackson into coming when she knew he’d feel overwhelmed by the crowds. “Did you check out the pottery booth near the entrance?” Birdie asked.

  “I bought one of her flower vases and put it in the car.” Katelyn moved the folding chair in the corner over. “Sit down.”

  Birdie turned sideways on the seat so she could people-watch. “How’s Harriet’s niece working out at the store?”

  “Fine, I guess.” Katelyn had met the twenty-one-year-old earlier in the week. “She and Layla get along great.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “They both love talking about the latest hairstyle and makeup trends.”

  “Does Walter know I’m going back to St. Louis with you in a couple of weeks to help Melissa move into her dorm?”

  “I told him, and he’s fine with it now that he hired Kim.”

  “I’ve been thinking,” Birdie said, “that I mig
ht switch to part-time when I come back.”

  “That’s a great idea.” Katelyn paused when a couple stopped to view her work, but they moved on before she had a chance to initiate a conversation with them. “I’d be happy to help you make ends meet, Mom.”

  “I can still manage on my own,” Birdie said. “I make more money in tips playing at a bar for three hours than I do standing at the register for eight.”

  Katelyn hugged her mother.

  “What was that for?”

  “I’m excited that you’re performing again.”

  “And I’m proud of you”—Birdie pointed to the artwork on display—“for believing in yourself.”

  An older couple approached the tent. The gentleman pointed to the painting of Mendoza Auto that Katelyn had made from the sketch of the building. “Is that a 1978 Pontiac Trans Am sitting in the bay?”

  “It is.” Katelyn had painted Jackson standing next to the car, staring out the bay door as he wiped his hands on an oil rag.

  “That garage is in Little Springs, isn’t it?” he asked.

  Birdie jumped into the conversation. “It used to be Al’s Auto. Then Jackson Mendoza bought the business.”

  “My father took our family car there when I was a kid. I remember sitting on that bench outside the door and waiting.”

  “The detail is lovely,” the wife said.

  “You don’t have a price on the painting,” he said.

  “I’m not sure if it’s for sale yet.” It was difficult to put a price on her memories of hanging out with Jackson at the garage after school.

  She wrote her cell phone number on a piece of paper and made a mental note to look into ordering business cards. “If you have a photo of your old family car, I’d be happy to paint a picture of the garage with that vehicle inside.”

  “That would be nice, Roy.” The woman looked at Katelyn. “We’ll be in touch.”

  As soon as the couple walked off, Birdie said, “What’s wrong with you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You worry that no one will want to buy your art—then when someone comes along ready to pay money for one of your pieces, you can’t pull the trigger.”