Stef Ann Holm

by Lucy gets Her Life Back

  “The Kent Estate.”

  “Yeah. I was there doing the electrical.”

  So, he was a construction worker. Any interest she might have had was no longer piqued.

  “Hmm,” she responded noncommittally.

  “Are you here alone?”

  “Yes, um, no. Well…” She momentarily lost her verve. “Yes, I’m alone.”

  It was pretty obvious, as no one else had joined her as she sipped her gin and tonic at the bar. She’d almost finished her second one and, on an empty stomach, they were making her light-headed, messing with her perception.

  It would serve Drew right if she left with another man. He’d stood her up. And on her fricking fortieth birthday.

  She didn’t want to be alone.

  When she’d started dating Drew, she’d alienated herself from the handful of girlfriends she had, choosing to spend time with her boyfriend instead. That was a big mistake women often made when entering into relationships. They threw all their energies into a man, then lost sight of what was around them.

  For Jacquie, work as a Realtor was number one—she flourished on the deals and the big commission checks. Drew and their relationship had fallen into the number two position. Time for herself had been relegated to number three. Bad move on her part.

  “I’m Max Beck,” the man said, slipping onto the seat next to hers. The scent surrounding him was unlike any cologne she recognized. It was a masculine scent. Pure male. Nothing from a bottle.

  Her nostrils flared, and she felt hot even if he was a construction worker.

  Jacquie sat straighter, thrusting out her breasts, hoping to emphasize curves that were barely there. “Jacquie Santini, Realty Professionals.”

  “I knew who you were. I asked around.”

  She arched her brows. “Should I be flattered?”

  “Sweetheart, you should be glad I came over here and sat next to you. A woman who looks—” he leaned closer “—and smells like you shouldn’t have to sit by herself.”

  Tingles rose across her bare arms, the plunging vee in her dress allowing cool air to caress her cleavage. She shouldn’t have had that second drink without eating. Her nipples grew to hard points; her legs began to ache.

  The alcohol was flowing through her body, making her languid and careless. She threw her head back and laughed, a throaty sound that she knew drove men crazy.

  “Well, I wouldn’t have been alone for long.”

  “That’s why I came over.” Max rapped his knuckles on the bar. “Vodka on the rocks,” he ordered.

  Casting all caution to the wind, throwing out all reason and succumbing to the anger toward Drew that lingered around the edges of her mind, she put a hand over Max’s. Their eyes met and held. “No. Don’t order a drink here. I know of a place where we can go dancing.”

  He didn’t move, but his hooded gaze lowered to the bare skin at the base of her throat. “I don’t dance.”

  She rose to her feet, a little unstable. She put her hand on the bar to steady herself. Squaring her shoulders, she felt more like herself now that the blood was moving through her body. “You do now. It’s my fortieth birthday,” she laughed, “and I feel like celebrating.”

  Max flashed her a grin. “Well, then hell, just call me Fred Astaire.”

  “We got the CAT scan report back and it looks good.” Dr. Berg stood before Lucy and Drew, giving them the news.

  Relief pooled through Lucy, making her labored breathing ease to a more steady rhythm. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding it ever since she saw Jason lying unconscious on the field. Everything had happened so fast. She’d been talking to Susan, had looked away for a moment, then saw Jason, and Drew running toward him.

  After taking a look at Jason, Drew had reacted quickly. He’d called 911, and an ambulance was on its way before Lucy had time to think. She had no idea where the nearest hospital was, nor the quickest method to get her son there. Drew had taken care of everything, alleviating a portion of her stress by driving Matt to the hospital while she rode in the ambulance with Jason.

  When Jason was brought in, he was still out cold. This wasn’t the first time one of her sons had been injured playing sports, and it would likely not be the last. But each time, Lucy was paralyzed with fear that the damage would be severe or permanent. Matt had broken both arms—and he wasn’t even a teenager yet. Jason had had two concussions prior to this one.

  The team of doctors had checked him out, taken him for an image, and Lucy paced in the waiting room with Matt and Drew.

  It seemed like it took forever.

  Dr. Berg was reassuring, his tone soothing. “Your son will be all right. He woke up in radiology.”

  “Oh, thank goodness!” Lucy exhaled in relief.

  “He’s going to have a bad headache, but I don’t see any serious problems. He’s lucky.”

  The younger doctor wore his white coat well, and Lucy noticed he was smiling sympathetically at her…almost too much so, as if he knew something more. But he didn’t elaborate.

  “Is there something else, Doctor?” she asked, almost unable to utter the question.

  He paused, then said, “If I could talk to you alone.”

  Tension wound tight within her, making her unable to move. Drew put his arm on her shoulder. “G’ahead. I’ll stay with Matt.”

  Lucy walked behind the doctor, a knot working its way around her heart, squeezing, with unanswered questions plaguing her every step of the way. It was worse than the doctor was letting on. Jason was going to have some damage. Her son was going to be…damaged.

  Oh, God…

  Dr. Berg led her to a small alcove where two upholstered chairs faced one another.

  “Mrs. Carpenter, take a seat.”

  “It’s Miss.” Why she made the correction, she had no idea. It was an automatic response. Knitting her fingers together, she worried her thumbs. “It’s bad, isn’t it? You couldn’t tell me in front of my youngest son. What’s wrong with Jason—really?”

  “Nothing but a concussion, Miss Carpenter.” His eyes were kind, a soft brown that made her feel comfortable. But the stress was still wrapping her in its taut cocoon.

  “Then?”

  The word echoed between them, suspended, as the doctor’s expression became regretful.

  He reached into his lab coat pocket, then opened his palm. “When we took off your son’s clothes, I found this in his uniform pants’ pocket. Do you know what it is?”

  Lucy wished she could have been shocked and said she had no idea what the thing was. But she knew. All too well.

  “It’s for pot,” she said in a monotone.

  Dr. Berg nodded, “A roach clip.”

  “I thought so.”

  He gave it to her and she held on to the metal clip as if it were poison. Biting her lip, she looked away.

  How could Jason have disappointed her so? She had had a long talk with him about this the last time, and he’d promised her he’d stay out of trouble. They’d been through this in Boise. Things were supposed to be different here. How could he?

  How dare he?

  “I’m not going to report this because I didn’t find any drugs on him.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” she said, her voice barely audible.

  “I’m sorry, Miss Carpenter.” The doctor rose to his feet, and Lucy followed suit. “I’ve got to see my other patients. I’ll be back to check on Jason shortly. He’s resting right now. You’ll be able to take him home tonight, but I’m not sure when.”

  “Thank you.” The words sounded wooden, hollow.

  Lucy didn’t immediately return to the waiting area. She held back, fought the tears that threatened to fall.

  Apparently there was no safe place for her children. She knew Jason had no pocket money, so he must have met up with some boys in town who shared hits from their joint or offered him something as a trade or…something. She shuddered, the unknown raising gooseflesh on her arms.

  At this point, all she had was specul
ation, but the roach clip was enough evidence that her son had broken his promise.

  How had she failed so miserably?

  Everything she had done, everything she had planned for in Red Duck, now seemed misguided. A waste of time and energy.

  Walking in the opposite direction from where she’d come, Lucy followed the signs to the chapel, found the small room with its faux stained glass and took a seat.

  The pews were cushioned and soft, and she wondered how many people before her had come to pray about loved ones who were on the cusp of dying. Tragedy struck lives, took lives. And here she was… Her son would recover, but would she? Could she emotionally handle this?

  She damned Gary. Then felt badly for doing so in the church.

  But if he’d been around, she’d have help. She had no doubts they would have divorced, and at this point, she couldn’t care less if he was with Diane. She did care that he was hundreds of miles away, as if he didn’t have a responsibility in the world. The raising of their sons fell exclusively on her shoulders, and she needed help.

  God help me….

  The tears began to fall.

  I need help.

  Lucy quietly cried, lowering her face into her hands and letting out the sorrow of many months. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d actually let it all out. Probably too long.

  When she was done, she dug through her purse, found a tissue and blew her nose.

  A hand settled on her shoulder, startling her. She turned, only to see Drew Tolman in the pew behind her. His big hand remained on her, warm and comforting, as if she allowed those intimate feelings to surface. The rapid thud of her pulse sounded in her ears. Her gaze left his, lowered to where he touched her. As soon as she did that, he let her go.

  “I didn’t want to interrupt you before.”

  “Jason?”

  “He’s okay. I meant, I saw you crying and I figured you need some private time.”

  For some reason, the fact that he’d watched her unnerved Lucy. “You watched me cry?”

  “Not for all that long. But it looked like you needed to.”

  Her emotions whirled and skidded. One moment, she’d been drawn by the raw sensuousness in his eyes; the next, those thoughts all but evaporated. She felt a little snappish, slightly annoyed with him. But for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why. Then it hit her: He’s seen me weak.

  She hated that, hated to be less than capable. And now he’d seen her at her worse.

  “I didn’t think you’d be the type to come into a church.” She couldn’t help the short response.

  “Well, I did put on my asbestos underwear this morning, so I think I’ll be okay.”

  She clued in to the fact he was teasing, saying he’d have gone up in flames if he hadn’t been wearing protection.

  Unbidden, she smiled. “Funny.”

  “I’ve been in a church a few times.”

  She straightened, stuffed her wet tissues back into her purse. “I’m sure that’s a stretch, but I’m not going to debate it with you.”

  He merely chuckled. Then his voice lowered an octave and she could tell he was looking at the back of her head. “You okay?”

  “Fine,” she lied, still facing forward.

  “I saw the doc heading back without you.”

  “Where’s Matt?” she asked.

  “He’s watching TV in the waiting room.”

  “I should get back to him.” Lucy stood, smoothed the front of her shirt and put the straps of her handbag on her shoulder.

  “Give yourself another minute,” Drew suggested, standing behind her.

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Because you look like you’ve been crying.”

  “It could be because I’m upset about my son getting hit in the head.”

  “Could be, but that’s not the reason. Want to tell me?”

  She walked past him, through the chapel doors and into the hallway. “No.”

  “I was once his age. Nothing would surprise me.”

  “I’m sure it wouldn’t.”

  Drew matched her stride, fell in step with her. “If you change your mind, you’ve got my number.”

  And you’ve got a girlfriend!

  Why she was suddenly aggravated about his circumstances…why the anger welled, knowing he was “taken,” just when he appeared to express real concern for her and her son…she just didn’t want to address it.

  So she said nothing further.

  Later that night, Drew dropped her off to pick up her car from the field. Lucy brought Jason home, put him to bed, but she didn’t bring up the roach clip. She needed to sleep on it, figure out how she was going to deal with him, what the consequences would be.

  Perhaps she’d been naive when she thought she’d never have to revisit this again.

  The reality settled like a weight on her shoulders. It was going to be a long night.

  Journal of Mackenzie Taylor

  I graduated high school! Peabody Marsh sat in front of me and he lit off a smoke bomb just as the valley-victorian valvictorian was giving her speech. Principle Walton had a conniption fit.

  I kept looking in the audience and I only saw Aunt Lynette. I wished Momma was sitting right next to her. I started crying and I had to hide it so my mascara wouldn’t run.

  When the commencement was over, everyone threw their caps in the air. Then a streaker ran across the gym. He wore a Sponge Bob mask, but we all knew whose bare behind it was. Our best pitcher on the baseball team. Brad Smith. He was gone before any of the teachers could catch him. I would have known that butt anywhere. I’ve had a crush on it for the entire semester. Brad and I went to prom together.

  I’ve always had a thing for baseball players. Funny how that works out…considering.

  I got my diploma and my picture taken next to the United States flag. I guess I am now officially done with school.

  Some friends and I spent our first days in the real world by hunting crawfish. Brad and I made out on the beach. We didn’t do anything, but kiss. I love how he kisses. All of us ended up going swimming to start our summer.

  Now I’ve got my whole life ahead of me. I’m not sure if I can last four years in college, but Aunt Lynette says I need to try. A girl without a degree won’t go far. But I like to do hair and make up and look at how much money the cosmetologists to the stars make.

  Besides, college costs big bucks. But Aunt Lynette said not to worry about that because my “daddy” said he was paying.

  Drew sent me a graduation present and I almost didn’t open it. I let it sit on my bureau for three days. I didn’t want it to ruin my big day. Just in case it was something bad.

  So I opened it this morning.

  I keep staring at the present, wondering how he knew. I asked Aunt Lynette and she swore she never said a thing about it. That Drew did it on his own. I asked Aunt Lynette to get out her Bible and swear on it. She did. So I know she’s telling the truth.

  Drew got me a diary.

  How he knew, I can’t guess. Must have been a lucky guess, though. Or he probably asked the clerk in a store and she made a lucky guess. In any case, here I have it and what am I going to do with it?

  I can’t stop looking at my present from Drew and I decided I might as well keep it. It’s just too nice not to use.

  The diary the finest leather I’ve ever seen, and so smooth to touch. My fingertips glide over it. On the front, my name is inscribed in a really cool gold foil font. It only has my first name. He probably can’t stand the thought of me having only momma’s last name and not his.

  Inside, the pages aren’t lined. It’s all fine white paper, really thick and nice so if I want to do a sketch or drawing, I can. The edges are a gold foil, too. It’s about the nicest diary I’ve ever seen.

  He gave me a graduation card and a check for $1,000.00. I never seen that much money in one check in my life. I don’t know what I’m going to do with it, if I’ll even spend it. I should probably give it back…but last n
ight I couldn’t sleep for thinking about how much fun it would be to take that kind of money to the mall and just blow the whole thing. Aunt Lynette says I should spend it wisely, but I don’t feel like being wise. I’m seventeen. I’m supposed to be reckless. Hah hah.

  I suppose I need to write him a thank you card. Or maybe I should call him up. I have to think about it. I can’t remember what his voice sounds like. But I remember exactly what he looks like since he looks like me.