The Single Mom's Second Chance

by Jessica Keller

  Evan stopped reading. “Everyone knows Sesser owns the paper. No one takes it seriously.”

  Brice moved the paper so it was in front of him. He smoothed out the section Evan had wrinkled when he’d caught it earlier. “It details all of her achievements and degrees, while highlighting that you have none.”

  Evan opened the freezer and pulled out a carton of French vanilla ice cream. He fished a spoon from the silverware drawer, poured some cereal on top of the ice cream and took a bite.

  Brice watched him. “You’re eating pure sugar for breakfast.”

  “Exactly.” He took another bite. Licked the spoon for effect. “It’s the best time to eat it. Now I have the rest of the day to work it off.” He tapped his stomach.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Brice fake gagged. He was more of a meat-and-potatoes guy. Evan would be surprised if his brother ate cake at his own wedding.

  “Laura forgot to buy milk.” He shrugged. “But she picked up three tubs of ice cream on sale. Buy two, get one free. You can’t pass up something like that.”

  Brice dropped his face into his hands. “How are we supposed to sell you as someone who can run this town if you can’t even eat normal, healthy food?”

  “Listen.” Evan dropped the spoon into the sink with a loud clang and put the ice cream away. “It wasn’t my idea to run for mayor. And I had grilled asparagus for dinner last night. It all balances out. Besides, I already knew about the pictures, and I figured Jason would write an article to go along with them.”

  “You did?”

  “I was there when the photos were taken. There are more on the town’s website, I’m told. Jason wanted to use them to make Goose Harbor look appealing—and isn’t that something a mayor should want?” He rinsed his hands off at the faucet and moved the spoon into the dishwasher. “If it makes you feel any better, I guess Sesser is livid about the pictures. Claire texted me this morning—”

  “Hold up. You and she are texting each other?” Brice glared at the cell phone lying near the sink. “Since when?”

  Evan scooped up the phone and stuck it in his pocket. “Since the board declared that we have to plan a fund-raiser together. Do you know how difficult that is to do on short notice? So yeah, we have to be in touch. It’s fine.”

  Brice’s brow scrunched with worry. “Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Evan.” Brice slipped off the stool and latched on to his forearm as he tried to walk past. “You loved that woman.”

  “I loved her when we were teenagers.” Evan snaked out of his brother’s grasp and made a beeline for the couch. “That was a long time ago. We’re both completely different people now.” He flopped down so he was looking up at the ceiling. “I’m slightly more mature than I was back then, although I do still eat cartoon cereal for breakfast. Sometimes I even have pudding cups for a snack.”

  Brice bunched his hands into the fabric on the back of the couch. “I don’t want to see you hurt again. After that all went down...you were devastated.”

  Evan slung his arm over his eyes, blocking his brother out. Brice didn’t know the half of it. On the day he and Claire were going to elope, Sesser had cornered him and showed Evan how his father had taken out massive loans in Brice’s name. More money than the Danielses could ever pay back. If Evan walked away from Claire, Sesser would make the debts disappear, but if he insisted on pursuing her, Sesser had threatened to use his vast influence to get Brice thrown out of the college he was attending. Not only that, but he’d promised to see that Brice would never receive admittance anywhere else. Evan hadn’t doubted that the man had the power and connections to make good on his intimidations. And yet...Evan had hesitated until Sesser pledged to pay for all Brice’s college tuition anonymously.

  Of course, Brice knew none of that, and if it was up to Evan, he never would. Brice had sacrificed again and again to take care of and protect his siblings. The deal Evan had been forced into with Sesser was a drop in the bucket compared to what he owed his brother.

  Evan lifted his arm. Brice was still there, watching, waiting, probably overanalyzing.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  After his brother left, Evan answered the latest text from Claire, letting her know Alex and she were welcome to stop by later to start working on their teamwork assignment. He added one last message, inviting them to dinner. Then he got up, snagged the newspaper off the counter and went and filed it in his desk. Claire looked so happy in the pictures, and he wanted to keep them for after the election when they wouldn’t be forced to spend time together any longer. At least then he’d have the images of her smiling.

  Chapter Six

  Alex’s teacher had caught Claire while she was shopping in the square earlier and detailed some issues he’d been having in class. He’d been struggling with focusing, he’d picked fights with other students and he’d argued with the teacher and broken down into full-out sobs a few times. The teacher believed Alex might be a better fit for a specialized class or school. Claire had volleyed between choices the rest of the day.

  Attachment disorder.

  That’s what the doctor had scrawled in Alex’s file after a series of psychological evaluations. He wasn’t a typical kid acting out; this was the behavior of someone who was terrified to allow people near emotionally—especially people who actively tried to be a part of his life. Claire kept reminding herself of that. She reminded herself of the advice from the doctor every day: keep showing him love, stay steady, have a sense of humor and keep in mind he didn’t hate her, he just didn’t yet know what to do with someone saying they’d have his back for the long haul. The number one rule the doctor gave her? Don’t take it personally.

  It sure felt personal.

  Eight months of tantrums—of holes kicked into the walls, of him shutting her out—had worn her thin. Sometimes he was well behaved, but even then didn’t respond positively toward her. Strangers often had an easier time connecting with him, at least in short exchanges. Supposedly that was part of his diagnosis, too.

  What had she really expected when she’d chosen to become an adoptive mother? Naively, she’d pictured her new son cuddling on her lap, asking to go for walks with her and instantly feeling like a family together.

  So far, none of that had happened. On his birthday, he’d asked to be left alone.

  Alex had been quiet on the drive to Evan’s house, almost moody, and Claire worried that he might act out or say something outlandish when they arrived. Instead, he had rushed out of the car and hadn’t stopped talking from the moment Evan answered the door.

  They were setting the table as Claire threw together the ingredients she’d brought to make a salad, although she was pretty sure that the salad would go untouched next to the garlic French bread and asiago chicken drenched in bacon cream sauce that Evan had whipped up. His house smelled as good as her last trip to Italy.

  “Did you know that there aren’t any penguins in the northern hemisphere?” Alex trailed after Evan as he set plates on the table. “Christmas movies with penguins at the North Pole are wrong. They live at the South Pole.”

  Evan handed him a stack of napkins. “You just taught me something new. If I’m ever on a game show and win money for knowing that, I’ll split my bounty with you.”

  “I know all about a lot of animals.”

  “You’re my go-to guy when it comes to animal facts.”

  Alex puffed out his chest. Claire ceased mixing the salad and watched the two guys interacting. She wouldn’t deny that Alex displayed more confidence around Evan. It was abnormal for him to be this talkative within minutes of entering a home he’d never been to before. But Evan had taken him under his wing and started joking with him before Alex even had his coat off.

  “That caterpillar you told me about last Su
nday at church?” Evan continued. “The one that lives in the Arctic and freezes solid for four months every year? It was genius.”

  “That’s the banded woolly bear caterpillar.”

  Evan spun to bring Claire into the conversation. “Did he tell you about this thing?”

  She carried her salad over to the table. “I have no clue what you guys are talking about.”

  “Get this.” Evan rested a hand on Alex’s shoulder. “This caterpillar lives for fourteen years before becoming a moth. Every winter they freeze solid—their heart stops.”

  Alex gripped the back of the chair and bounced on the balls of his feet. “They’re very much dead.”

  Evan’s dimples appeared as he watched Alex. “What science would consider dead, anyway.”

  “But the secret is, every spring they thaw and come back to life!” Alex tossed his hands in the air and did a slow, dramatic circle.

  Claire clapped her hand over her mouth. She’d never seen Alex act this way—so free. She squeaked out, “That is amazing.”

  Evan motioned for everyone to take a seat. “Alex brought it up in Sunday school and Mr. Woolly, as we took to calling him, really helped demonstrate the point I was trying to make for the kids. The entire objective of a caterpillar’s life is to become something more, something better, right?”

  “A butterfly,” Claire offered.

  Alex dropped his chin into his hand and gave a frustrated sigh. “The woolly becomes a moth, Mom.” His feet beat against the bar under his chair like a metronome.

  “Sorry.” Claire grimaced in apology for Alex’s sake. “Moth.”

  Evan sent Alex a wink and then turned to address her. “So poor Mr. Woolly fails at the one thing everyone else believes he’s supposed to accomplish every single year, but he keeps on doing what he knows he’s supposed to do. Living a life that others might deem insignificant. He thaws out, wakes up, eats and freezes again...for fourteen years.” Evan sent the plate full of garlic toast around the table.

  “I don’t know if caterpillars ponder about their purpose much, but if I was him I’d start to get discouraged and question things.” He went to pick up the baking pan holding the asiago chicken, but yanked his hand away quickly. “That one’s still hot. Pass your plates and I’ll put some on there.” He held out hands for both their plates. A fourth place setting was saved for Laura, who he said would be home shortly.

  He served up the chicken and then handed back their plates. “But God does something amazing in Mr. Woolly’s life every year. Woolly freezes solid and then comes back to life. I can’t do that, you can’t do that. It’s a big deal. But Woolly doesn’t know that because he’s just being faithful.”

  Every year Woolly felt like he’d failed, yet he kept being faithful. Could Claire claim the same thing? Everyone else expected the caterpillar to change, to be more, but God had other plans for him—delayed plans—and there was something special about that. She pushed salad around on her plate. Sadness seeped through her chest. She shouldn’t feel this emotional about a silly Arctic caterpillar.

  “I have a theory that our lives are a lot like that.” Evan leaned back in his chair, his food untouched. Maybe he was holding off for Laura. “We’re waiting for this great thing that we want, but it’s not going to happen for fourteen more years. All the while we’re missing the very real and cool things God is doing in our lives right now.”

  Claire let her gaze fall to her cup of water and studied the ice cubes floating inside. Anything to avoid eye contact with Evan and Alex, because she worried that if she did, they’d see right through her. They’d know that she was a frozen caterpillar who was afraid the thaw would never arrive.

  * * *

  Once Laura joined them for dinner Evan said a prayer and they all dug in. Evan wanted to circle the table and hug Laura because of the way she instantly charmed Claire’s son. She was always dog tired when she got home from practice, but an outsider wouldn’t have been able to tell. Laura listened enthusiastically as Alex rattled off the different types of bees in a hive and what their jobs were.

  “A honeybee hive can produce twenty to eighty pounds of honey. Did you know that?” Alex hardly gave Laura time to answer before launching into a different topic.

  After the table was cleared she challenged Alex to a board game. Evan whispered “thank you” and dropped a kiss on the top of her head.

  Claire trailed him down the hallway toward the set of white painted French doors that led to his office. Did it bother her to leave Alex out of sight, with someone who wasn’t a relative? “Laura does a lot of babysitting for families at church. She’s good with kids his age.”

  “She’s doing great with Alex. You both have a way with him.” Claire touched Evan’s elbow, stopping him before he went through the doors. She lowered her voice. “Alex has anger issues. Have you ever heard of attachment disorder?”

  Laura and Alex were too far away to overhear them, and around the corner, so they couldn’t even see the part of the hallway where Evan and Claire were huddled. Still, Evan inched closer to her so they could speak in a whisper. “I have.”

  “And you believe it’s real? My dad doesn’t.”

  Of course Sesser didn’t. Anything the man viewed as weakness was deemed not good enough for him or his family. Poor Alex. Evan knew full well how much the brunt of Sesser’s judgment could hurt. Destroy.

  But attacking her dad wouldn’t help the situation.

  Evan raked his mind for a way to explain. “Have you forgotten about my dad?”

  Claire ran her finger over the grooved frame around the door. Evan had created every single piece of woodwork in his house. She was absently tracing over hours of his handiwork. “I know he...he didn’t treat you well.”

  “There’s a reason he’s not invited to my brother’s wedding. He used to beat the tar out of Brice. He would come at me, but most of the time Brice put himself between me and him and took the worst of it.” Evan applied pressure to the bridge of his nose. “So I’ve done some digging into childhood psychology. Brice and I both have, because when we became Christians we knew part of the process involved investing in mental and emotional health. It makes sense that Alex might have something like that, given his background.”

  “He seems to get along with you, though. He’s mentioned you a couple times every day since we saw you last week at town hall.”

  “That’s because I’m no threat to him.” Evan let his hands fall to his sides. “He can talk to me on his terms and it means nothing if he loses my esteem. That’s the reason he’s open with me.”

  “I don’t think that’s the only reason. He doesn’t talk to me at all. He never said a word about that woolly caterpillar to me.” Claire looked up at the ceiling and swiped at her eyes. Was she crying over the insect story? “Why doesn’t he tell me about those kinds of things?” She hugged her arms around her stomach and her shoulders hunched forward.

  Evan had to do something. He couldn’t stand there and watch her fight tears without trying to offer encouragement. So he reached over, cupped her arm and gave a companionable squeeze. “He has more to lose if he gets rejected by you.”

  “I won’t reject him, though.” She slapped a hand over her mouth. Her voice had gone up more than she’d meant it to.

  “You know that, but he can’t believe it yet. Give him time.” Evan kept his hand on her arm as he walked her backward through the French doors. It was only when he had her in his office that he remembered the giant painting—her painting—hanging behind his desk.

  * * *

  Claire turned and froze. “You kept my painting.”

  All other sounds faded; she could hear only the pounding of blood in her temples. Her neck went uncomfortably warm.

  Evan had her painting—her last gift to him.

  She’d spent weeks layering the col
ors just right. She brushed past him now and rounded his desk to get a closer look. The painting had been a graduation gift. She’d given it to him only a few weeks before he’d ditched their wedding. Claire had always figured he’d sold it or tossed it or burned it in a bonfire. Never in any scenario that had played out in her head had she imagined him keeping the gift.

  “I can’t believe you kept it.”

  Evan cleared his throat. “I think it looks good in here.” He hooked his hands into his pockets and rocked on his feet, clearly uncomfortable. “It fits.”

  “Why would you keep something like that, though?”

  His eyes softened as they searched hers. “Claire, you told me before you didn’t want to talk about the past, but can we now?” He motioned toward the picture. “I’ve wanted to explain.”

  Curiosity roared for an answer, but a bigger part of her heart, the piece that belonged to fear and remembered all the agony it had been through previously, whispered no. Ignorance was better than pain. Safer. She’d written to him; she’d begged for an explanation and he hadn’t offered one then. Nothing he said now could ease the suffering she’d been dragged through, or fix how falling for him had sabotaged any chance of success for any other relationships. He couldn’t take away the brand his betrayal had seared over her heart.

  Unwanted.

  Evan had been the only risk she’d taken in life. One of only two times she’d attempted to cross her father. And what had she gotten from it? Evan had removed the safety net and then allowed her to fall to the ground, shattering.

  She wasn’t about to let that happen again.

  She pressed her fingers to her forehead. “This was a bad idea. I don’t know why I’m here.”

  He caught her wrist as she turned. “Hey, slow down. You’re here because we have a fund-raiser to plan and very little time to do it in.” He pointed toward the painting. “You don’t want to talk about what this means, that’s fine. Like I told you before, I’ll respect that. So let’s forget about it and get to planning.”