by Norah Wilson
“Ms. Morgan,” April corrected quickly.
“Sorry,” he said. “No offense…”
God, he looked half flustered. His son, on the other hand, snickered behind his hand.
“None taken,” April said.
“I called you both down here because your children were fighting this morning.”
Tim looked at his son. “Will, if you hit a girl, you are in some kind of trouble, young man.”
“I’d never do that!” He pointed to his lip. “She hit me!”
April looked at Sidney. “Is this true?”
“Like I said, he had it coming.”
“How about we give a better explanation than that, Sidney?” Eden said.
Will sat up in his chair. “She jumped me, that’s—”
“You’ll have your chance, son.”
“Yes, you will,” Eden said. “Now, Sidney, you first.”
Her bottom lip trembled. Her eyes filled with tears. “Will was saying stuff.”
April immediately stiffened. Saying stuff? What kind of stuff? She was well aware of the kind of tales boys could tell. But in grade five? Oh God. How awful that would be for Sidney. She wanted to throttle the little brat.
“What was he saying?” April asked.
She sniffled. “He called me a bad name.”
“Is that true, buddy?” Tim Peterson asked. “Did you call Sidney a bad name?”
The young boy hesitated a good three seconds before he answered. “No.” His words were barely audible. He looked down at his feet.
“You did so!” Sidney said, her little fists bunching. “You called me a bastard!”
Tim looked shocked. “Is that true, Will?”
“What? It’s the truth! She doesn’t have a dad.”
Tim clamped a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Ladies, if you’ll excuse us a moment, I need to speak to my son privately.”
“Of course.” Eden gestured to the door.
“I’m so sorry, Ms. Morgan.” Still with his hand on young Will’s shoulder, Tim escorted him from the room.
After a moment, Eden rose from her chair. “I’ll give you two a moment, as well,” she said. She left, closing the door behind her.
A second later, Sid sobbed and leaned into her mother. Because she finally could, she let the tears fall.
And April held her like she hadn’t in a very long time.
Sidney let her.
Chapter 38
SCOTT HAD just toed off his boots on the porch—after spending half the day at the Escher dairy farm, they could use a good airing out—when the door opened. He looked up to see April standing there holding his cell phone out toward him.
“You forgot your phone.”
“Yeah, I noticed.” He shrugged out of his coat and hung it on a peg, then reached for the phone. “Did I miss a call?” He powered it up to look at the call log. Shit. Georgie.
“Yes, but he called back right away on the land line.”
“You talked to him?” Scott frowned, stepping into the house. “Did he leave a message?”
She laughed, but it was a harsh sound. “Yeah, he did. He’d like to know why you’re hanging around the farm in the dead of winter while the deal of a lifetime hangs in the balance out there.”
Oh, man. Busted. “I don’t know that I’d call it the deal of a—”
“And guess what? I’d like to know the answer to that question too. What are you doing here, Scott?”
He reached a hand out to touch her arm, but she backed away. “April—”
“Don’t say you’re relieving Titus. He’d be the first one to tell you he’s sufficiently relieved. There’s so little to do now, it hardly makes sense.”
His lips tightened. “We’ve talked about this. The projects around the house—”
“The critical ones are already done,” she said. “At this point, anything else is pretty much a make work proposition to keep you busy. Which was fine when I thought you were killing time until the Alberta project came on line, but now...” She went to the sink and poured herself a glass of water. Turning toward him, she leaned against the counter, glass in hand. “Why, Scott? Why couldn’t you have been honest with me? I told you from the start that I didn’t want to be anyone’s charity case, but that’s exactly what you’ve turned me into.”
“Charity case?” For about the millionth time, he cursed those parents of hers, who’d made her feel like a terrible burden instead of a blessing. “You’re anything but that, April. What you did for us this fall…”
She waved him off with her water glass. “Okay, maybe I was earning my keep—our keep—back then, when you were still busy with the orchards. But you don’t need me here now. And you don’t need to stay here and jeopardize your future. I don’t want that for you, and I sure as hell don’t want it for me and Sid.”
Scott heard feet thundering down the stairs and Sid burst into the room. “Mom, what’s going on? What are you guys fighting about?”
“We’re not fighting,” April said. “I was just explaining to Scott why we have to leave.”
“Leave?” Sid practically shouted the word. “But you said we were staying until school finishes.”
“I know, sweetheart, but there’s been a change of plans.” She pasted on a bright smile. “Remember K.Z. McCoy, the Martha Stewart-type lady we talked about? The one who came to visit the Boisverts? Well, she’s offered me a job with a fantastic salary and I’ve accepted. This is the big time, Ladybug. We’re going to Boston. We’re going to have our own place, a nice one, and we’ll enroll you in a really good private school.”
“No,” Sid protested. “I don’t want to go.” She turned to Scott. “Tell her to stay. She’ll stay if you ask her.”
Scott’s heart was breaking. “I’m sorry, Sid. This thing with K.Z. could really launch your mother’s career. It’s a real good thing for both of you.”
“But this is where we live. Where Arden and Faye are, and Ember and Titus and you. And Axl and Danika. It’s where all my friends are. I don’t want to go to stupid Boston.”
April looked positively sick. “Honey, you’ve always known we were going to have to leave Harkness. Remember? I told you it wasn’t permanent. I know I let you pretend it would last—and yes, I’ve done some pretending too—but it’s time. We’ve already stayed longer than we planned.” She finally put the glass of water down without ever having sipped from it. “Pretending was nice, but we can’t pretend anymore. This is really a big break for me and I have to take it.”
“But we were building our business.” Sid’s face was flushed, her eyes hot with anxiety. “It was really growing, wasn’t it?”
April’s smile was tremulous. “It sure was. And we make a great team. But this job might wind up being the best thing for the business in the long run. For now, though, we’ll have to park it for a while.”
Sid’s lip trembled. “Is this because I gave Will Peterson a fat lip at school ’cause of what he said?”
What? Sid had been fighting?
“Oh, no, baby,” April hastened to assure her. “Don’t think that for a minute.”
Sid glanced from her mother to Scott, then back to her mother.
“How about I stay here with Scott while you go to Boston?”
April looked like she’d been gut-punched to hear her daughter say she’d prefer to be separated from her than to move. Then she took a deep breath. “Scott’s not staying, either. He has a big project that’s been waiting for him out west.”
“You’re just making that up!” Sid accused.
“Sid—”
Sid turned huge, tear-filled eyes on Scott. “You’re staying here, right, Scott? To do all that work you talked about. I was gonna help you strip that ugly wallpaper in my room, remember?”
Jesus, she was killing him. “Your mother’s right,” he said gruffly. “I have to leave.”
“But I don’t want to go!”
If Sid’s wail tore at his heart, it was absolutely shredding
April.
“Please, Sidney,” April said. “We have to go.”
“Why? You don’t need that job. We can stay here and keep doing the market thing.” She turned desperate eyes on Scott. “Arden wouldn’t mind, would he, Scott?”
Christ, he felt gutted. He looked to April for direction.
“No, Sid. We have to go. We can’t keep imposing on the Standishs. We’ve got an opportunity for me to stand on my own two feet and make enough money to secure your future. That’s what we have to do.”
“But—”
“Sidney, we don’t belong here. We’re moving and that’s that.”
She looked to Scott again, tears welling in those brown eyes that were so like her mother’s. “Tell her we do belong! Tell her she’s wrong.”
He cleared his throat. “Your mother knows best, kid. You have to trust her. She’s looking out for the both of you.”
Sid whirled on her mother. “I can’t believe you’re making us leave. I hate you!”
With that, Sid whirled and raced up the stairs, her feet pounding on the steps.
Scott turned to April, who looked absolutely stricken. “She didn’t mean that. She’s just upset.”
“This is all my fault, letting her pretend.” She hugged her arms around herself. “It was going so well until…” She shook her head. “No, it was wrong, not forcing her to face reality. And I let it go on too long.”
Her pain made him feel so helpless, so inadequate. There was nothing he could say to ease it. He reached for her, intending to fold her into his arms to comfort her. Or hell, maybe to comfort himself. But she pulled away, stepping back out of his reach.
“Just go, Scott.” She hadn’t shed a tear, but he could hear how close they were in her voice. “Don’t you have a phone call to make?”
His hands fisted at his sides. Dammit.
She turned away. “I have to start supper.”
He watched her go back to her preparations. Well, that was that, wasn’t it? There wasn’t a damned thing he could do here. Except leave.
And hey, wasn’t that what he was good at? His specialty?
Without a word, he left the kitchen.
Chapter 39
THE GARLIC bread was burned around the edges. The lasagna? Not April’s best effort by any means. And no wonder. She’d put it together so hastily, she’d used the wrong onions. And she’d completely forgotten the anchovy for the Caesar salad. Bacon bowls for that salad? Not tonight.
She looked down at her plate. The lasagna with its wrong onions sat there growing colder by the moment.
With Arden and Faye still off in Montreal and Titus at the lake with Ocean, it was a small group at the table tonight. Scott, Ember, Sidney and herself. Ember was full of chatter about her new practice, and Scott nodded and interjected appropriate words at the right spots. Really? Wow. Proud of you, Sis.
Finally, Ember put down her fork. “Okay, what’s wrong?”
Scott’s glance shot to April. She knew he’d make the explanation if she wanted him to. Just like he’d supported her earlier during the confrontation with Sidney. He’d backed her up, refusing to make her look like the bad guy. Her throat ached just thinking about it.
“We—that is, Sid and I—are going to be leaving sooner than I thought.” She twisted the napkin on her lap so hard, her fingers hurt. “I’ve had a job offer, one I can’t turn down. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”
“Wow, how exciting!” Ember said. “Where is it?”
Sidney replied before April had a chance. “It’s in Boston. Some stupid job for some stupid rich lady.”
“I’m sure she’s a perfectly nice lady, Sid,” Ember said. She put her hand on Sidney’s shoulder. “And she’s certainly got good taste if she wants your mom to come cook for her.”
April was grateful for Ember’s effort but Sid was clearly not impressed, judging by her deepening scowl.
“It means security for us,” April reminded her daughter. “It’s a good job. A good opportunity. And it’s…reality.”
“When are you leaving?” Ember asked.
She sucked in a breath. “The day after tomorrow.”
“That soon?” The shock on Scott’s face pierced her.
“I thought it was best.”
“Yeah, day after tomorrow,” Sidney repeated. “Can you believe that? I get exactly one measly day at school to say goodbye to everyone.”
“Sidney, I…I’m sorry. We can’t stay longer. We need to get on the road.”
“Danika’s having a pajama party for her birthday next week,” she said dully. “But I’m not going to be there for it. I didn’t even buy her a present yet.” She dipped her head, sniffling.
“I’m so sorry, Sidney.” She was. She was so very sorry about everything. Sorry for herself too.
Sid’s head came up, her eyes pleading. “Can’t you just call that guy again and tell him you changed your mind? Just…give us a little more time?”
“You know I can’t.” April’s voice broke. “We talked about this. There’s not really enough work to warrant me staying in the job, and I’m not one to stick around once the job’s done.”
Sidney whirled toward Scott. “Tell her that’s not true. There’s other stuff my mom could do outside the kitchen, like helping with those renovations.”
He shook his head. “Sorry, Sid. Your mom did a fantastic job for us, and you were a great help too. But like she says, the job here is done.”
April felt a fresh spike of pain. Not from Scott’s words, but from the fact that he was saying them for her. Being the heavy, absorbing some of Sid’s anger.
“The job is done?” Ember had been taking this all in with an expression of shock on her face. “That’s kind of a hard line, isn’t it?” She turned her gaze from her brother to April. “For God’s sake, April, don’t feel you have to rush off. I’m sure Dad would be cool with—”
“Thank you, Ember.” Scott’s words cut across his sister’s, and he sent her an unmistakable cool it look. “It goes without saying that Uncle Arden will be disappointed to lose April, as am I. And I know we’ll all miss Sid the Kid. But this chance to impress K.Z. McCoy is something April has been actively seeking for quite a while.” He sat back in his chair. “Opportunity knocks when it wants to. We don’t get to control that.”
“Like your project out west,” Sid said.
“Exactly like that.”
Ember shot a look at Scott. “Wait, you’re leaving too?”
“That’s why Mom’s leaving,” Sid blurted out. “I heard her say she wouldn’t have stayed this long if she’d known he was postponing that job on her account.”
“I’m lost,” Ember said. “What job?”
“In Alberta.” April and Sid said the words at the same time.
“Yes, Northern Alberta,” Scott said. “A buddy and I are partnering with an architect to build some affordable, pod-type housing units that will stand up to the bitter cold, but that can be deployed quickly at pre-engineered sites.”
“To cope with the growth in boom towns?”
“Yeah, but they can be made to work anywhere emergency or overflow housing is needed, including First Nations reserves. Depending on how you set up the infrastructure, you could stack them, or lay them out like petals on a daisy.”
“That’s cool,” Ember said. “Don’t you think that’s cool, Sid?”
“I suppose,” she conceded. “But I don’t see why we have to leave.” She looked at April. “Are you sure it’s not about decking Will Peterson? ’Cause I promise I won’t fight anymore, even if he calls me that bad name again. He can call me all the bad names he wants.”
“Oh, sweetie, no. It’s not about that. I promise.”
“What bad name?” Scott asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” April said quickly. “It’s over and dealt with. And I’m telling you it’s not a factor. K.Z. McCoy made me a ridiculously good offer that I couldn’t say no to. That’s it, that’s all.”
Scott
turned to Sidney. “What’d he call you, kid?”
“He said I was a bastard, ’cause Mom’s not married to my dad.”
“He did not!” Ember sounded aghast. She looked at April with concern in her eyes. “I hope you had a talk with his mother.”
“His father, actually,” April said. “He seemed to take it pretty seriously.”
“Tim Peterson?”
April nodded.
“He’ll straighten the kid out.” Scott gave Sidney a sympathetic look. “Sorry that happened, Sid. Some people are just asshats.”
“Scott!” Ember reprimanded.
“I mean jerks,” he corrected quickly. “Some people are just jerks.”
“Small towns can be like that,” Ember said softly. “Everyone knows, or thinks they know, everyone else’s business. Sometimes names fly, or in my case, rumors.” April met Ember’s eyes and saw the intensity there. “But please don’t let that sour you on Harkness. Yes, there’s some of that, but there’s so much more love and acceptance and warmth. You might have more anonymity in Boston, but you won’t find this kind of community.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell her!” Sidney said.
April sighed, “We’ve talked about this, Sid. It’s not about what happened at school.”
And it wasn’t. Well, not really. It might have been the straw that broke the camel’s back, but it was Scott’s deception that really mattered.
“Then what’s it about?” Sid demanded.
“It’s about facing reality,” she said crisply. “We’re not really needed here during the quiet winter months, and it’s not really fair to stay under those circumstances. Meanwhile, we have this other great opportunity that could set us up for life.” She put her balled up, wrinkled napkin on the table. “We talked about this, Ladybug. I’m sure—”
“Don’t call me that!” Sidney leaped up from her chair, tears coursing down her reddened face. “Don’t call me that ever again!”
She turned and ran out of the room and up the stairs. Axl, who’d been snoozing in the living room during the meal, lifted his head and watched her retreat woefully. With a sigh, he got to his feet and climbed the stairs after her. A moment later, when the old dog had had time enough to reach Ember’s bedroom, the door closed with enough force to qualify as a slam.
