Love and Sorrow (Small Town Secrets Book 5)

by Jade C. Jamison

  But it also scared me. What we had at the moment seemed to work. Would living together ruin us?

  “I want to. But I think we should talk to the kids first, make sure they’re okay with it.”

  “Naturally.” After taking a gulp of his coffee, he said, “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

  “No. I want to.” Taking a hesitant puff on my cigarette and fighting the urge to cough again, I said, “Why haven’t I ever given you a key?”

  “It’s not like I ever gave you one, so I guess we’re even.” Leaning against the back door, Justin eyed the mug in his hands as if contemplating the depth of the universe. “Do you think the kids’ dads will have a problem with it?”

  “Kent probably won’t.” Of course, remembering our last conversation, I could never be sure. “I don’t know about Mike.”

  “Mike’s Mr. Macho, right? Devon’s dad?”

  “Yeah. But he’ll get over it.”

  “All right. Then we talk to the kids and see what they say. And don’t stress about the bills. It should be easier with two of us tackling things. So no more worrying.”

  “I’m not worrying.” I took another sip of my coffee. “Not about that anyway.”

  “What about, then?”

  Gazing at the cigarette between my two fingers, I stared as the paper slowly burned down toward the filter, creating an orange ring around the end of the cigarette. I almost had to force my eyes to shift to him. “Not to be a killjoy, but if you move in, I figure that means you’re committed.”

  He didn’t miss a beat. “Yeah, I oughta be.” While I refrained from rolling my eyes, I almost imperceptibly shook my head, because he knew what I meant—and his next words confirmed it. “I know. I wouldn’t have suggested it if I wasn’t.”

  “Okay then.” I allowed my heart for just a moment to revel in what could have been Justin’s biggest expression of love.

  He stroked my cheek with the back of his finger. “When I’m wasting my time fucking other women while wishing they were you, I figure it’s time.”

  Oh, God. That was probably the biggest admission I’d ever get out of this man, and I was going to be grateful for it. Snubbing out my cigarette in the little plastic ashtray, I wrapped my arms around him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. As he pulled me close, I muttered, “I’ve got to get ready for work.”

  “Yeah. I know.” When I started coughing again, he asked, “Are you okay?”

  “I think I might be coming down with something.”

  “I wouldn’t doubt it. You were all sweaty last night and being dragged through the cold with just a jacket on isn’t the best idea.”

  I kept my head pressed against his chest. “Thanks for that, by the way. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

  “No shit?”

  I appreciated the levity, so I played along, slapping him on the butt. While I got ready for work that morning, I realized I probably was getting sick—but, mentally, I was beginning to feel better than I had in a long while.

  * * *

  By the time I got home, I knew for certain that I was sick. I’d spent most of my day coughing and it was getting harder to breathe. I wasn’t the only one sick, though. When Mike dropped Devon off, he said, “He’s not feeling so hot. He’s been throwing up.”

  I placed my open palm on Devon’s forehead. “How much candy did he eat?”

  The man didn’t even have the decency to try to appear ashamed. Fucking idiot. “All of it.”

  “I wonder why he’s not feeling well.”

  After Mike headed out the door, I took Devon’s temperature to confirm he didn’t have a fever, meaning it was likely due to all the sugar he’d consumed throughout the day. I had him take a bath while I unpacked his bag and put some soup on the stove.

  Then my parents arrived with Sarah. My mother said, “She was an exemplary young lady.”

  Sarah actually smiled as she took her things to her bedroom. Then my dad said, “That’s the old Sarah.”

  “I just wanted to warn you guys I think I’m getting sick.”

  My mother all but scowled. “Then I won’t hug you.”

  Dad nodded. “We need to get home before dark anyway.”

  Later, the kids and I sat at the kitchen table with soup and crackers. The last thing I wanted to do was eat, especially soup after throwing it up last night, but I needed something hot. And my son needed something bland and unsugary.

  “So tell me about your weekend, guys.”

  Devon’s eyes lit up. “Dad took me trick-or-treating and then we stayed up late. He let me watch monster movies.”

  “Anything scary?”

  “Not really.”

  “Good. When did you eat all your candy?”

  “I ate some of it last night. I woke up with a stomachache.”

  “When did you throw up?”

  “Today.”

  “Did you eat more candy today?”

  “Yeah.” He ate another spoonful of soup. Goddamn Mike. It was like he wanted Devon to be his buddy rather than his son. “You’re better than dad is.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Dad doesn’t brush my bangs back when I’m laying there sick like you do.”

  As much as I would have loved excoriating Mike, especially when the man deserved it, I’d have to keep that shit to myself. “He loves you, Devon.”

  “I know. But I’d rather be sick with you.”

  “What about you, Sarah? How was your time with grandma and grandpa?”

  “It was awesome. They let me hand out all the candy when kids came to the door.”

  “So you had fun, honey?”

  “Yeah.”

  I stirred my soup, waiting to see if either of the kids had anything else they wanted to say—and, when a soft silence descended upon us, I decided to broach the subject.

  “Guys, there’s something I need to ask you.”

  Although both of them looked at me, it was Devon who asked, “What?”

  I set my spoon in the bowl. “How would you feel about Justin moving in here?”

  “That would be awesome.”

  “Sarah?”

  “Yeah. We like Justin. But…grandma and grandpa won’t like it. They say it’s wrong.”

  “Wrong how?”

  “You’re supposed to be married.”

  I took in a slow breath. “Yeah, honey, that’s what they teach in their church.”

  “Will you go to hell if he moves in here?”

  “Let’s just say I don’t believe everything grandma and grandpa do. I think if two people love each other and make a commitment to one another, it’s the right thing to do.”

  Sarah asked, “Do you love Justin?”

  Oh, God. Even if I hadn’t said the words to him, maybe I needed to tell my children. “Yes, I do.” It was true. And, although I’d never said it out loud before, it sounded right to my ears. “Besides, he’ll help with the bills, so we’ll have more money to do fun stuff.”

  “Yeah,” Devon piped in. “I could buy a new video game!”

  “Maybe.” I fought the urge to cough, because I wanted to get through our conversation. “You sure you’re okay with this, guys? If you’re not, we won’t do it.”

  Devon said, “Dad’s always asking me if Justin lives with us.”

  “What?”

  “He asks if Justin lives here.”

  “He does? Is he mad about it?”

  “No. He lives with his girlfriends sometimes.”

  “Yeah. I guess so.”

  Later that night, I spent extra time tucking them in bed, assuring them of how much I loved them. These two children were the world to me.

  And I would never, ever, ever tell them that I’d almost committed murder less than twenty-four hours ago for that love. I just prayed that Justin was right…that justice would be served.

  * * *

  The next day, Kathy sent me home early from work, because by then there was no denying just how sick I was. The shit co
ming out of my lungs was unlike anything else I’d ever seen.

  I couldn’t even enjoy a cigarette. Literally. I’d take one puff and have to toss the cigarette, because all I could do was hack and cough.

  That afternoon, Justin sent me a text asking something I already should have told him. Have you asked S & D about what we talked about?

  I replied, Yeah. It’s a go. If you still want to do it.

  Do you?

  Yeah.

  You okay if I come over now?

  I smiled before coughing up more phlegm. Yeah.

  Before he arrived, though, I started feeling even worse, so I lay on the couch, half-watching a crime scene show.

  Devon said, “Mom, you look bad.”

  I drifted off, resting my head against the back of the couch. Sometime later, Sarah’s voice pulled me out of my semi-sleeping state. “Do you need us to get you anything, mom?”

  Glancing around, I knew I’d already gathered most of what I needed—a glass of water, a box of tissue, and a small trash can—but I was cold and shivery. “If you want, sweetie, you could get me a couple of blankets from the hall closet.”

  It wasn’t long before my daughter had fetched three of them and I lay back down, pulling them on top of me. When the doorbell rang, Devon answered it, letting Justin inside. After chatting with my son, Justin walked over to the couch. “God, woman, you look like hell.” Gently, he sat on the edge of the couch and rested his hand on my forehead. “You’re burnin’ up.”

  “I don’t feel so good.”

  “You don’t look so good. Did you work today?”

  “I had to.” When I started coughing again, I grabbed a tissue and covered my mouth.

  “And you sound awful. Are you going to the doctor?”

  “I can’t afford it.”

  “Like hell you can’t. You’re going tomorrow.”

  “Justin…”

  “No arguments. You haven’t been taking care of yourself.”

  When I tried doing just that—arguing—I started coughing again. But I let him take over as I rested my head and drifted into a light sleep. I knew from what little I heard that my kids felt a huge sense of relief having Justin there to tend to me. If he hadn’t captured their hearts before, he’d definitely won them over that night.

  He even tucked them in.

  Even in my restless sleep, I could hear him doing things around the house, possibly washing dishes or brushing his teeth. I couldn’t tell how much time had passed when he sat on the edge of the couch again whispering my name.

  I could barely keep my eyes open.

  “Take these.”

  “What is it?”

  “It’s for your fever.”

  Sitting up, I swallowed the two tablets along with cool water from the glass Justin held up to my mouth. As I started to lie back down, Justin said, “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

  It took me a little bit but, with the help of his hand under my arm, I was able to stand.

  “You gotta work tomorrow?”

  “No. Just Sarah’s appointment and classes.”

  After he helped me into the bedroom and under the covers, he asked, “Who’s your doctor?”

  “I go to the clinic on Main Street. Could you get my phone? I think it’s on the coffee table.” I was already half asleep again when he set it on the nightstand. Throughout the night, he would touch my forehead and, when the alarm on my phone went off in the morning, he said, “Just stay in bed, Rascal. I’ll get the kids to school.”

  It was probably ten o’clock when Justin woke me up. “You got a doctor’s appointment in an hour. I’ll drive you there, but you’re goin’.”

  I wasn’t about to argue at the point. When I got up, I couldn’t believe how weak and worn out I felt, but I only needed to get dressed. First, though, coffee. I shuffled to the kitchen and, on the table, Justin already had a mug of java, fixed just the way I liked it, and my cigarettes and lighter—the last thing I wanted right now.

  When I sat down, I shoved them away and took a sip of coffee, appreciating the warmth as it glided over my throat. Justin sat down and handed me a couple of white tablets again. “For your fever.” As I took them in my hand, he asked, “Not smoking?”

  “No way, I can’t. I can barely breathe as it is.”

  “No shit. When’s the last time you had one?”

  “Yesterday morning maybe? I can’t remember for sure.”

  Raising his eyebrows, he gave me half a smile. “Do you want anything to eat? Toast? Eggs?”

  “Hell, no. Nothing sounds good.”

  “Want something to drink besides coffee?”

  “No. It actually feels good.”

  After I finished the cup, I walked to the bedroom—a monumental task at this point—and then pulled on a sweater and jeans. Once I had my sneakers on, I went to the bathroom to wash my face, brush my teeth, and pull my hair back into a ponytail, about the only thing I had any energy for. Several times, I had to stop for another coughing jag.

  Following all that, I was actually looking forward to going to the clinic.

  After being poked and prodded and getting a chest x-ray, they determined I had pneumonia and the cure was an antibiotic. And sleep. Which was mostly what I did until Wednesday afternoon when I got a call from Amy with Child Protection.

  “You’re not going to like this, but I promised to be upfront with you.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “The police said Bernard Buckley has apparently skipped town. He resigned from his job at the end of the school year last spring. He’d been living with his mother, and she said he moved in June. She swore she doesn’t know his whereabouts.”

  Bullshit. “So what now?”

  “Well, there is a warrant out for his arrest. The police have his picture, information on his vehicle, all that stuff. So now it’s just a matter of time.”

  My heart sank, though. If he knew the authorities were looking for him—and he had to know by this point—would he ever be found? Not wanting to take my frustration out on the woman trying to help, I closed my eyes, pinching the top of my nose between my thumb and index finger. “So what do I…we…my family do in the meantime?”

  “Keep Sarah in counseling. Be supportive. Keep up with the healing process. Even if they find him, even if he’s arrested and goes to trial, you’ll need to be doing all those things.”

  While that was true, I wondered just how much healing could happen when there was no justice in sight. Unfortunately, I had no energy to press the issue at the moment. “Well, thanks.”

  I refrained from adding I guess.

  “I wish I could do more. We have parent, children, and family support groups, so let me know if you want to take advantage of them.”

  Although I thanked her again, I found I couldn’t hang up quickly enough, because once again I was at a dead end. How the fuck could I help my daughter when her predator was on the loose?

  And what the fuck should I do right now? What could I do?

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Later that afternoon, after I’d picked up the kids from school, Devon let Justin in the house.

  “I think I need a key.”

  Sarah jumped up and smiled, grabbing her backpack from the floor by a chair. Reaching into a pocket on the front, she grabbed a key ring with one gold key on it and handed it to Justin. “Here. Take mine.”

  He tousled her hair. “I’ll make a copy and get it back to you, Princess.” After shoving the key in his pocket, he walked over to the couch where I lay, feeling loads better but still drained. “You gonna be stubborn and go into work tonight?”

  “Yes. It’s my job. And I’m feeling better.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “I am. Feel my head.”

  The fever was gone, so he couldn’t argue with that. After he touched my forehead, he said, “I’m still not convinced you should go into work, though.”

  “Justin, I have to. They can’t cover all my shifts just because
I’m a little sick.”

  “You’re not a little sick, Randi. Pneumonia’s not just a little bug. It’s serious.”

  “I feel better.” Justin clenched his jaw but didn’t say anything else. Then I said, “Kids, gather up your homework. Time to head to Noreen’s.”

  “Wait,” Justin said. “If I’m here tonight, they can stay here, too.” He paused for just a second, a shadow crossing his eyes. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”

  Why the hell would I have changed my mind? Was he that oblivious to how I felt about him? “No, it’s not that. I just don’t want to cramp your style. I know you’re not used to having kids around all the time.”

  “Randi, if we’re gonna live together, it’s all of us. Together. Whaddya say, kids?”

  Both Devon and Sarah shouted their assent. “Fine.” I wouldn’t be upset if they spent less time with Noreen—but I didn’t expect Justin to become a father figure overnight. To the kids, I said, “Just make sure you do your homework, okay?”

  “And we’ll order pizza. How’s that sound?”

  “Don’t overeat, guys.” Pizza was better than the greasy food Mike liked to feed Devon, but I didn’t want it to become a habit.

  “We won’t,” Devon said, grinning from ear to ear.

  Sitting next to me on the couch, Justin lowered his head to look me squarely in the eyes. “Be careful, okay? I don’t want to get a call from you later that you can’t come home because you collapsed at work.”

  “I promise. I’ll sit down as much as I can.”

  “And if it’s not too much trouble, why don’t you call every hour or so, just so we know you’re okay?”

  Even though work was exhausting, probably more than I should have done, I found myself feeling buoyed by the notion that Justin and my kids genuinely liked each other. I got home later than usual, simply because it took me longer than usual to get my closing duties done.

  When I came home, though, I was amazed at how much a real partner could do for me. I wasn’t having to drop by Noreen’s to wake my poor children and have them shuffle across the street into their own beds. And I wasn’t having to shine my phone’s light on the doorknob to slide the key in the lock.