The place was eerie, and Heather had no interest in delving deeper. She turned away and entered her father’s office. It wasn’t much. Just a rickety desk and a filing cabinet. “Have you gone through anything in here yet?” she asked her mother.
“No. I didn’t know where to begin…”
Heather stepped inside and headed for the cabinet, curious to see if there was a single chance in hell the man had a life insurance policy. At the very least, he would have had something through work. He’d worked at that factory for over thirty years.
She also needed to find bank statements. She didn’t want to waste any more time than necessary in this godforsaken town. It felt like every step she made was through quicksand. It was hard to breathe in this house. Stifling.
After finding a file for the bank, Heather gingerly took a seat on the rickety chair, uncertain it was going to hold her up. It had held her father’s pot-bellied self for all these years. Surely it would hold Heather’s weight.
Her mother stood in the doorway, wringing her hands. Helpless. Beaten down. Pitiful.
Heather wished she could feel sorry for the woman, but she was afraid if she attempted to show kindness, she’d end up telling her to go to hell instead. So she ignored her as best she could and opened the file.
It would be easier to ask questions and get this show on the road. “Is there any money in the bank?”
“I don’t know,” her mother murmured.
Jesus. What a fucking mess.
A look at the most recent filed statement indicated there was only a few hundred dollars in the account. Heather had a sinking feeling it was going to be tough to bury the man. If she had to use part of her insurance check to bury a man she hated more than life itself, she would lose her shit.
“I told the coroner to cremate him,” her mother murmured. Murmuring was her mother’s normal voice. Quiet. Subdued. Always trying to keep from drawing attention to herself to avoid her husband’s wrath.
Fed up with the mouse routine, Heather flattened her palms on the desk. “He’s fucking gone, Mom. Dead. You don’t have to keep whispering.”
Her mother nodded but said nothing as she swiped at her tears.
“Please tell me those tears are not for him.”
Her mother shook her head. “No.”
“Good. Because he doesn’t deserve them. You can be sad about your own lost life. You can be sad because you don’t know what the hell you’re going to do. You can even be sad that you ruined my life too. But do not fucking cry over the loss of Frank Kotter.”
Her mother drew in a sharp breath, eyes wide. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
“What are you sorry for, Mom?” Heather was struggling to be kind. She knew this would happen.
“For everything. For being too weak to leave him. For letting you grow up in this house. For standing here now without a clue of what to do next.”
Heather sighed. At least her mother was aware of the situation. Heather spun around and started thumbing through the files again. She found the deed to the house and the title to the car. They only had one. It was in the driveway. Someone must have brought it home from her father’s plant.
As far as Heather knew, her mother didn’t have a single skill. She’d never worked outside the home. She could barely cook. She wasn’t even a great housekeeper, although she’d never had much to work with.
Suddenly, her mother turned around and disappeared down the hallway.
Heather thumbed through more papers, looking up again when her mother stepped back into the room. She was holding Heather’s childhood music box. It was one of the few items Heather had ever owned that came to her new. Her grandmother had sent it when she was born. The woman had died soon afterward, and Heather had never met her.
It was the kind of music box with the spinning ballerina that once played music. Heather doubted it did now, nor could she imagine why her mother was bringing it to her. It held no sentimental value. She’d hated the tune it played and she’d never taken a day of dance classes in her life. To Heather, it had represented luxury, something she’d never expected to know.
Her mother’s hands were shaking as she set it on the edge of the desk and opened the top. The outside that had once been pink was now brown with age. The ballerina made a slight turn, emitting a horrible sound before gratefully stopping.
Without a word, her mother lifted the top box that would have held rings and bracelets in a normal home and set it aside. She reached in deeper and pulled out a giant wad of money, dropping it on the desk.
Heather gasped. She stared at it for a moment, saying nothing.
“Seventeen thousand four hundred sixty-two dollars,” her mother said, her voice stronger than Heather had heard it yet today.
Heather jerked her gaze to her mother to find her almost smirking.
“Holy shit, Mom. Where did you get this?”
“Stuffed it away every time I could get my hands on it. I started skimming your father’s wallet on the day you were born. I never intended to stay. I always thought as soon as I had enough money, I could take you and leave.”
“Why didn’t you? Why are you still here?”
Her mother wiped her tears. “I was never strong enough. I was afraid if I left, he’d find me, drag me back, and make my life more miserable than ever. I had nowhere to go, no skills, no way to support you.”
“But that’s a lot of money. You could have eventually left.”
“I was so relieved when you left. So glad that he didn’t go after you. That he let you go. I prayed every day that you would make it, escape this hellhole and find a better life. I kept stealing from him because it was so easy. He never knew how much money he had. He was always drunk. Even if I only took a dollar, I always took something.”
Heather swallowed, still too stunned to wrap her head around this.
“After you left, I didn’t think I deserved to leave. I’d failed you.” She sobbed and wiped her eyes again. “I was the most horrible mother alive. I deserved to get whatever he dished out for being too weak to take care of my own child.”
A lump formed in Heather’s throat. “Mom…” For the first time in her life, she felt a twinge of sympathy for her mother.
Her mother sobbed again. “Take it. It’s yours. I wish I could have given you what I’d saved when you left, but there hadn’t been an opportunity.”
Heather shook her head. “It’s yours. I don’t need it. You’re going to need it to get your life together.”
“I’m not having a funeral,” her mother declared, shocking Heather again. “He didn’t deserve anyone’s sympathy. I told the coroner to cremate him and put him in the cheapest container they make. I don’t even want the ashes.”
Heather nodded. “Okay.” At least that part would apparently be simple. “What about the house? Do you want to stay here?”
“God no. I’ve been pacing in here since the moment I heard he’d died. If I could, I would burn it to the ground, but I suppose that’s not practical. I’ll have a garage sale and then sell the house. Take the money and maybe go to the beach or something. I’ve never seen the ocean.”
Heather’s chest hurt. Her mother was far more level-headed than she’d expected. She didn’t seem as despondent as Mrs. Tullius had implied. She was mousy and hesitant. But she was clear-minded and had a plan.
“We can do that. Sell the house I mean.” She hesitated before speaking her next words, shocked by her empathy. “Maybe I could take you to the beach. You could fly on one of my companion passes. It’s beautiful in Florida.”
Her mother smiled, tears streaming again. “I couldn’t ask you to do that. I’ll probably just take the car, drive south, stay in a cheap motel for a while. I need to think and pull myself together.”
“When was the last time you went to bed without worrying that someone would wake you up screaming at you?”
“The year before you were born.”
Heather closed her eyes and lowered her face. “Tha
t sounds about right. It’s hard at first. To sleep I mean. You’ll wake up gasping. Confused. Heart pounding. But it gets easier.”
Her mother nodded. She’d stopped bothering to wipe the tears away.
Heather’s heart thawed slightly. It would take a lifetime to fully extract herself from the horror that was not just her childhood but followed her into adulthood. “You need counseling, Mom.”
Her mother stared at her. “Will it erase the last thirty years?”
“No. But it will help you forgive yourself and make sure you don’t repeat your mistakes. It will help you build self-esteem.”
She cleared her throat. “Do you think you could ever forgive me, Heather?”
Heather’s chest tightened. An hour ago, she would have emphatically said no. But something had snapped inside her since she’d arrived here. “Yes. It will take time, but yes.”
Her mother’s lip quivered, and more tears fell. “Thank you for coming. It means a lot to me. There isn’t much to do, really, but I appreciate the help.”
Heather’s cell phone vibrated in her back pocket. “Shit,” she muttered as she extracted it. A text from Neil.
Just checking on you. Please let me know you’re okay.
She typed a quick response.
I’m doing much better than expected. I’ll call you when I get a chance.
Okay, baby. I love you.
Even in text, those words brought her to her knees.
Her mother spoke again. “Maybe I’ll get one of those cell phone thingies and then I could call you sometimes.”
Heather smiled. “We can go get one this afternoon. Why don’t you take a shower and change clothes, Mom? I’ll keep going through these papers and figure out what needs to be done. Okay?”
“Sure. Okay.” She turned and left the room, moving silently down the hallway, an art she’d perfected years ago. Heather listened closely, noting that old habits died hard. Even though her father would never be coming back to abuse his wife again, Heather’s mother still avoided the spot in the center of the hallway that creaked.
Heather turned her attention back to the files. She spent a few hours going through things, learning that her mother wouldn’t be as bad off as Heather had expected. The house was paid for. So was the car. She had the cash she’d stashed for all these years, and she would get Frank’s pension. If she lived frugally, she could spend the rest of her life without worrying.
Thank God.
When her mother reappeared, she looked much better. Her hair was clean and pulled back in a clip. She had on jeans and a nicer shirt.
Heather smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in jeans.”
“Your father…”
“Yeah. Well, he’s not here anymore, is he?”
“Nope.” Her head was higher. Her spirits were better.
“Mom, you’re going to be fine. I’ve gone through everything. You can live off his pension, the proceeds from the house, and the money you saved. Do you have a purse we can put this in?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, grab an overnight bag. We’ll go to the bank and open an account in your name to deposit this money before you get robbed. Then we’ll get you a cell phone. And then we’ll go someplace swanky for dinner.”
“What’s the overnight bag for?”
“You can stay in my hotel room. I’m sure you don’t want to sleep in this house another night.”
She shook her head. “No.”
“I’ll call a realtor and we’ll get it on the market.”
“Thank you.” She stood staring at Heather for several more seconds, looking on the verge of tears again.
“No more tears. Save them for when you really need them. Today we celebrate.”
She giggled and then slapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes going wide. “That felt good. I don’t know when I last laughed, or smiled.”
“Your eyes light up when you smile, Mom. Now, let’s get the hell out of here. This place makes me shudder. I smell like smoke and stale beer.”
“It really is a gross smell.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
Chapter 17
Neil couldn’t stop pacing. He’d surely worn a rut in the living room floor that stretched across the kitchen too. He wished he could have met Heather at the airport, but that wasn’t feasible since he couldn’t have gone past security to meet her plane and she’d had her own car parked in long-term parking.
When he finally heard the garage door go up, he rushed to open the door to the kitchen and hurried into the garage as she parked. He was at her door, pulling it open before she even had her seatbelt off.
She chuckled. “Anxious?”
He grabbed her around the waist as soon as she had one foot on the ground and hauled her into his arms. “Yes.” He kissed her next, showing her just how much he’d missed her.
He held her even tighter when she moaned into his mouth, only breaking the kiss when the overhead light went out, indicating they’d been standing there a long time.
He set his forehead against hers. “Six days is too long to leave me. Don’t do that again.”
She smiled and patted his chest. “I promise.”
“Did you get everything with your mom settled?” he asked as he rounded to the back of her car to get her suitcase.
“Yes. She’s made a hundred and eighty degree turn this week. I found her a counselor, got the house on the market, taught her how to use a cell phone, helped her empty most of the house into a dumpster. We even got her a laptop. Hopefully, the house will sell fast, and then she can get out of that town and never look back.”
“Doesn’t she at least have some friends?”
“Not really. She rarely spoke to anyone except the next-door neighbor. I’m betting they will stay in touch but that’s about it.”
“You told her she’s welcome to come here, right?” He set his hand on Heather’s lower back as they entered the house.
“Yeah.” She dropped her backpack and spun around to wrap her arms around him. “Thank you for that offer. She started crying when I told her.”
“She’s your mother, baby.” He rubbed her back. “She’s welcome here anytime.”
“Well, it’s huge that I’m even willing to speak to her, let alone invite her to come anywhere near Dallas.”
“I know, and I’m proud of you.”
“I’m just so relieved there was money, and I won’t be financially responsible for her. That was annoying me when I arrived.”
“I figured. We would have worked something out though.”
She rolled her eyes. “We’ve been together less than a month and you’re offering to help out my mom,” she drawled sarcastically.
He crowded her, backing her into the counter. “First of all, we’ve known each other far longer than that. I’ve known I wanted you for a very long time, even if I wasn’t fully willing to admit it to myself. When we finally entered into a relationship, we jumped in the deep end at warp speed, so really, it’s more like we’ve been together for months. At least six.”
She giggled. “Your math is warped.”
He pressed his cock against her. “My dick is currently in control, so I can’t be expected to do math.”
She slid her hand down between them to cup his length. “We should do something about this.” She lifted her gaze. “I may or may not be wearing new lingerie.”
Not wasting another second, Neil bent down to haul her over his shoulder.
She flattened her hands on his back and giggled again. “If you keep doing this, you’re going to end up with a torn shoulder.”
“It’ll be worth it.” He gave her ass a swat, unable to wait another moment to get those jeans off her and set his eyes on her body.
He dropped her on the bed, making her bounce. “Clothes. Off. Now.”
“So bossy.” She pulled her shirt over her head. “What if I wanted to watch a movie or have dinner or take a shower first?”
He dropped h
is own shirt on the floor and unbuttoned his jeans as he kicked off his shoes. “Did you?”
“No. The only thing I want to see is your mouth between my legs.”
“Now who’s bossy?” he teased as he reached out to yank her jeans down her legs. He froze, his breath catching in his lungs as soon as he had her down to her bra and panties. “Damn, you are sexy.” He grabbed her ankles and tugged her closer to the edge.
He took a deep breath and forced himself to slow down, his fingers landing reverently on the edge of pink lace covering her pussy. Although, covering was a strong word. It was really just a triangle.
He smoothed his hands up to cup her breasts next, loving the way she arched and moaned on contact. “Did you miss me?” he teased.
“So much.”
When he leaned over to kiss her, she cupped his face. “I’m sorry I freaked out last week. It felt like the world was caving in on me.”
He kissed her palm. “I know, baby.” He circled her wrists and drew them over her head, leaning over her farther, pressing her hands into the mattress. She looked so fucking hot with her legs wrapped around him and her pussy open against his briefs. His jeans were still hanging open. He hadn’t made it that far before he’d gotten distracted.
“I’m a work in progress,” she whispered, “but after spending a week with my mother, I realized how far I’ve come.”
He kissed her gently. “You’re amazing.”
“I’m still a hot mess.”
“You’re my hot mess.”
She giggled. “I have even more baggage now. My mother’s going to be needy, calling all the time and maybe coming to visit.”
“I love everything about you, even your baggage.” She still hadn’t said those words back to him, but he would wait as long as it took.
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