Clarity (Hate to Love You Book 1)

by Anna Albo

  “How are you today?” I said, plopping down a huge container of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies.

  “Great. The kids are with their grandmother, so I have a rare night to myself. I plan to do absolutely nothing.”

  The thing I noticed about Ellen the first day I met her was her misshapen nose. It had been broken more than a few times by her sadistic ex-husband. All the other bruises and scars were long gone, but that evidence was left behind. Her insurance company refused to cover the rhinoplasty, but that hadn’t stopped us from pleading her case. I was bound and determined to return Ellen to the woman she wanted to be. Little did she know that she always was—and I told her that all the time. And if it took a million letters to her insurance company to make her feel that way again, then that was what we were going to do.

  Today she had her long black hair in a braid and was dressed impeccably in black dress pants and a purple silk blouse. Normally she was wearing something casual like the rest of us, but clearly she was dressed up for something.

  “Where are you off to later?”

  “I’m going to an interview with Bonnie. I said I’d go for moral support and Lindsay okayed it.”

  “That’s nice of you.”

  “I do what I can.”

  I had my own mail slot which was a great honor. In there were mostly requests from residents to help them prepare documents, or notes from Lindsay, Greta’s House’s executive director, on what needed to be done. I leafed through the requests which I normally took on a first-come-first-serve basis unless they were urgent.

  “Coffee?” Ellen asked.

  “I’d love some. When I’m not at Anthony’s I miss it.”

  “And at Anthony’s it’s probably a lot better. This coffee is nothing but brown water, but who am I to complain?”

  I prioritized the requests and set them down.

  “Ellen, can I ask you for a big favor?”

  She handed me coffee with a perplexed look on her face. “You need a favor from me? Isn’t it usually the other way around?”

  “This is a big one and you can say no.”

  “Sounds ominous.”

  I motioned for her to sit on the ratty old burgundy sofa and she did. I pulled up a chair and sat across from her. “I need at least two letters of recommendation for law school and I would be so very honored if you would write one for me.”

  Ellen pointed at herself. “Me? Really? Little ol’ me? I’m a nobody.”

  “In my life you’re a big, huge somebody. You’re also a somebody to a lot of people around here.”

  “Shouldn’t you be asking your professors? Lindsay?”

  “I’ve asked them all, but I want you to write me a recommendation too. You may not know this, but you have been such an inspiration to me and I want the admissions committees of all the law schools I apply to to know it.”

  “But what would I say?”

  “Whatever you like. I want you to say whatever comes to you.”

  Ellen pursed her lips. “I’ll do it, but what if it’s terrible?”

  “It won’t be terrible.”

  “Okay. It’s both an honor and a privilege.”

  “Thank you,” I said, giving her a big hug. “And no rush. You have a couple of months to write it.”

  “I’m going to need a couple of months!”

  “In return I’ll give you free legal services for the rest of your life.”

  “Careful. I might take you up on that.”

  I stayed at the shelter until I had to get to my shift at Anthony’s. I helped a new resident named Haley fill out court papers to seek child support from her deadbeat husband. Her face still bore the remnants of his latest and hopefully final assault. The sheer volume of women who went back to their abusers was staggering, but I didn’t blame a single one of them. Leaving was hard and very few of them succeeded their first try. Their spouses and partners could be persuasive in luring them back with promises to change, to seek treatment, to never lay a hand on them again. The vast majority of them failed—if any of those promises were sincere in the first place. For other women, it came down to finances or for what they believed were the best interests of their children. Again, I couldn’t blame them. I hadn’t walked in their shoes.

  Most of the time was spent listening to Haley tell me all about him, what a good man he used to be before alcohol got a hold of him. It was a story I’d heard before, many times, but I lent her my ear. I knew that everyone at Greta’s House needed as much support as they could get, and my small gestures of help were the least I could do. Did I worry Haley would go back to him? Yes. She was too fixated on reminiscing about who her husband used to be. If he promised to be that man again, well, I had a feeling it would be enough.

  “Off to your paying job?” Ellen asked as I grabbed my sweater and backpack.

  “If I could, I’d work here full time, but the pay sucks.”

  She laughed. “Have a good night. And I’ll see you next week.”

  The bus ride from Greta’s House to the airport was nearly forty minutes and a perfect opportunity to study. When I got to work, I found the new girl behind the counter and I groaned. She liked to have her phone on her at all times. She thumbed her nose at Cathy’s strict policy of no electronic devices on the floor. The girl was addicted. Every two or three minutes Jessica not-so-discretely pulled it from her pocket just enough to see what new messages she had. Then she’d pretend to clean up the tea boxes, a well-hidden nook, where she’d reply to texts, check her Facebook status, see what was happening on Instagram, send a few tweets, et cetera. At first I ignored it, but she was starting to get on my nerves. I decided to take my fifteen-minute break leaving her alone on a slow night. This would at least curb her social media updates.

  I grabbed a decaf and a discarded newspaper and took a seat in the corner. Someone had spilled coffee all over the front page so reading the day’s top news was a little hampered. I set it aside and pulled out my phone. Anita had sent me a text to call her later, but other than that, I had no new messages. I just wasn’t as popular as Jessica.

  “The new girl is terrible.”

  I jumped at hearing the voice. I looked up and there he was, the Customs agent, towering over me, his coffee in hand. He had to be at least six foot two, maybe taller. At five foot four, I was tiny compared to him. “Oh, hi.”

  “Hi,” he said gruffly. “She can’t wait to text until after she’s poured my coffee? Is she saving the world from the time she took my order to when she actually poured the coffee by sending that text?”

  I wasn’t sure he was intentionally trying to be funny, but I laughed. “The president has given her all the secret codes to our nuclear weapons, so maybe she was averting all-out war?”

  He didn’t smile. Boy, he was a tough nut to crack. “I’m not sure she can handle Anthony’s alarm code, let alone nuclear codes,” he said dryly. “She really needs to let that smartphone of hers have a rest.”

  “Yes, she’s got an addiction. It could be worse, like heroin or meth.” Then a few awkward seconds passed. “Do you want to sit down?”

  The question passed over him, like he was weighing the pros and cons. “Sure,” he finally said.

  I think I was giddy, but desperately trying not to show it. “I’m Grace.”

  “I know. I can see that on your name tag,” he said, pointing to it. I really hated that nametag and I thought it was redundant. We had to have our airport identification on at all times, so why the nametag too?

  “You don’t have a name tag.”

  “I’m special.”

  No smile. Nada. Nothing. Zilch. Okay, was he trying to be funny or not? “It’s for security reasons. My name’s Jason.”

  I actually held my hand out for him to shake. I desperately wished the floor would swallow me up, especially after he stared at my hand in bewilderment. He shook it firmly and I immediately started talking to pass the uncomfortable moment.

  “How long have you been in town?”

 
“Three months.”

  “You like it here?”

  “It’s okay. It reminds me of back home, just a little smaller—and I hear it’s colder too.”

  I couldn’t think of a thing to say. Eric and I had dated for three years; I’d forgotten what it was like getting back into the dating scene, if I could even call this the dating scene. We were only talking, but that was something. I was talking to a guy who wasn’t a classmate, a friend, or my brother. In the grand scheme of things, this was kind of big. Maybe Anita was right. I needed to get myself out there. Then the most obvious question occurred to me.

  “Where are you from?”

  “Chicago.”

  “I’ve always wanted to go there. It seems like a happening place.”

  “It’s pretty good.”

  “Do you miss home?”

  “My friends, mostly.”

  “Have you made some friends here?”

  “A couple from work.”

  “Did you get to pick Minneapolis, or did they just send you here?”

  “I requested this part of the country. I was really hoping for Chicago, but there were no postings there. I can transfer there later, but I should probably stay here a year or two.”

  I sipped my coffee and stared at him some more. His light blue eyes wandered over to the people milling through the airport. This gave me a chance to check him out even more. His face was flawless and smooth with a hint of color like he’d been somewhere tropical. Could that be his natural skin tone? If so, lucky guy. The top button of his shirt was undone, and while he was wearing another shirt under his polyester uniform, I still thought it was hot. He wasn’t even showing skin and I was ready to pounce. He had nice wide shoulders and meat on his bones. Not slender like Eric.

  “And you just got up and left? Wasn’t that hard?” I asked.

  “Not really. Nothing was holding me back there.”

  My stomach fluttered. Promising . . . If I didn’t reel myself in, I’d have us married by the end of the week.

  “Sometimes I see you with your books,” he said. “What are you taking?”

  He noticed me with my books? He was paying attention to me? “I’m finishing up my degree and applying for law school.”

  “Good for you. Lofty goal.”

  I still couldn’t read him at all. His even tone betrayed nothing. Was he being sarcastic or sincere? “Uh, thanks.”

  He leaned back in his chair and surveyed me. I felt myself shrinking under his gaze. What was he doing? Deciding whether I was worthy of further conversation? It’s not like I looked my best. I had on my drab brown uniform, my dark chestnut hair pulled up into a bun and hidden under my equally dull brown cap, and I didn’t bother with much makeup for work. Nothing more than a little concealer and lip gloss. If he gave me a chance and I was all dolled up, maybe he wouldn’t need to give me consideration . . . What was I doing? I was better than this. Since when did I care about what a guy thought of me? Or that I needed to measure up? Nope. Those days were over.

  “I’m trying to figure out how old you are. Twenty?”

  That’s what he was doing? “Twenty-two. I’ll be twenty-three next spring. In case you’re doing the math, I took a year off and travelled. Then a semester. Long story.” I glanced at my watch and noticed my break was over five minutes ago. “Sorry, but I’ve got to get back to work. Nice talking to you, Jason. I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

  “Yes, definitely.”

  I hated that we had to end what we’d just started, but it went well, at least for my first try with the opposite sex since Eric. I wanted to skip back to the counter but maintained my composure. He evoked feelings in me I hadn’t experienced in a very long time and I liked it.

  CHAPTER 3

  Mom put up the pretense that the Whellam family household was better than ever. Since the restaurants closed, she’d taken to doing family dinners every Sunday. Fortunately, Pam had moved to California. While I missed my big sister, I enjoyed the clothing parcels she sent every few months. Without her contributions, my wardrobe would be in dire need of an update.

  With Pam gone, dinner consisted of my parents, Evan, my sister-in-law Sara, and me. Our dinners weren’t exactly a hotbed of excitement or conversation, but Mom looked forward to it and I couldn’t begrudge her that.

  Only a few years separated us, so Sara and I were pretty close. The pregnancy hadn’t been planned but it was highly anticipated. Evan had finally got back on his feet and worked as an assistant manager in a large grocery store. Pam, with her connections, had found Evan the job and he was indebted to her. Having been out of work since the restaurant closed, they’d been living off his inheritance from Grandpa, and with money dwindling and a baby on the way, the job couldn’t have come at a better time.

  “How’s work?” I asked my big brother. I enjoyed being the baby of the family. Everyone looked out for me and I kind of liked having a big brother and sister.

  “Love it,” he declared, throwing an arm around my shoulder. “No stress, not like the restaurant business. I love going home and not having to worry that I’ll get a phone call from any bellyachers.”

  “And how’s pregnancy?” I asked Sara. She wasn’t far that far along yet and dealing with the first trimester and all the fun that came along with it.

  “So far, so good. We might start decorating the bedroom next weekend.”

  “If you need any help, give me a call.”

  “We will.”

  Dinner was another quiet affair. Mom did most of the talking, trying to keep table atmosphere pleasant. The sad reality was that there was almost nothing pleasant about it. Evan blamed Dad for the collapse of the restaurants. Did I think that was fair? No, but I didn’t tell my brother that. There was enough ill will at our dinner table and I didn’t need to add to it. In reality, so many issues contributed to their collapse. The economic downturn was the most obvious, and while Evan would love to blame Dad for that, even our dad wasn’t that powerful. Did the restaurants’ menus need an update? Absolutely. Did Dad neglect the restaurants a little and take them for granted? For sure. Did he ignore Evan’s pleas to pay attention and make some changes? Without a doubt, but Dad ran them like his dad before him and that’s all he knew. And while the world around him evolved, Dad stayed the same.

  “Are you going to find out if it’s a boy or a girl?” Mom asked Sara.

  “We want it to be a surprise,” Sara said, casting my brother a loving glance.

  I envied their marriage and only hoped I’d be lucky enough to find a good man like my brother. I certainly had a good idea who all the bad ones were. I seemed to find them all the time.

  The instant Dad finished his dinner, he silently rose from the table and returned to the living room. No one seemed to notice he’d left and my heart ached for him. Guilt had to eat away at him, and while I understood the way Evan felt, the burden he laid at Dad’s feet was unjustified. But I knew my place and it was to keep the family peace and my mouth firmly shut.

  “How’s work?” Sara asked as we cleaned up after dinner. Evan escaped to the basement to watch some football. Knowing him like I did, he’d put in an hour or so, grab Sara, and disappear for another week.

  “Pretty good. I have a little crush on someone.” Wow, I sounded like a fourteen-year-old girl. “I mean, he’s good-looking. No big deal.”

  “That’s exciting. Does he like you back?”

  “I have no idea. The guy is impossible to read. There’s never any expression on his face or in his eyes. He just started at Customs a few months ago and he’s originally from Chicago.”

  “That’s sure a lot of information you have. He give that to you?”

  “Yes, why?”

  Sara’s eyes narrowed and she smiled. “Yup, he likes you. Guys aren’t forthcoming when they don’t have to be, especially the ones who are stone-faced. Ask him out.”

  “I’m not asking him out!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I have no idea if he lik
es me or not. Sara, literally, I don’t have a clue, and I’m not going to embarrass myself.”

  “At least make an effort to get to know him. You really seem to like him.”

  Evan stomped up the stairs and gave Sara the look.

  “I guess that’s my cue. I’ll see you next Sunday—and I want to hear only good things.”

  I SAW JASON AGAIN A couple of days later. He was with a coworker this time: Louis, a Customs agent I knew well. He often came around for coffee and a cherry Danish, and he was one of the few agents who was friendly. It wasn’t that the others were rude or nasty, they just weren’t warm and fuzzy. Louis, on the other hand, chatted with us, asked how our days were, and even bought the staff a huge box of chocolates last Christmas—the premium kind too. At first I thought he was a horny older guy, but I learned from Cathy that he had a heart of gold along with a wife and four daughters. He was a family man through and through.

  “Good afternoon, Grace,” Louis said. “How are you today?”

  “I’m great, and how are you?”

  “I’ll be better after a large coffee with double cream.”

  If I had to go through Customs, I’d want to be in Louis’ line. He looked a bit like Groucho Marx, mustache and all. He had a hint of a beer belly and cracked jokes at every opportunity. Nothing about Louis instilled fear in me, but maybe he was another kind of person when he was on the job.

  I turned to Jason. “And you?” I asked.

  “Large dark roast, black.”

  “Coming right up.”

  I poured their drinks and set them down.

  “Grace, have you met Jason?”

  “I have.”

  “He’s our newbie. He’s a very nice young man, and single too.”