“You’re fine. We still have twenty minutes before school’s over.” He met her just feet from the door and took her hand, his thumb caressing a small circle in her palm. Such a minute gesture from a man who was as routine as the sunset, yet there seemed to be deep importance behind that simple touch.
She searched his face, but as always, she couldn’t read his expression. Ben was a man of few words, and those he spoke were important. In the months they’d been dating, she’d yet to see him angry or even frustrated. His perpetual contentment had become a solace for her, and their time together something she looked forward to more and more.
“So, when’s the big day? I plan to take the entire morning off work to help you move.” He didn’t let go of her hand as they walked closer to the stage. She didn’t quite know what to make of his public display, something that was extremely rare for both of them.
But then again, she’d been different lately too. Happier. More ready for change. Putting the deposit down on the cottage had been a step forward, one Ben seemed to notice and appreciate.
“Well, don’t mark your calendar just yet.”
His hand stilled in hers. “Why? Did you change your mind?”
“No. Not at all. But you remember that leak we saw in the bathroom?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, turns out it wasn’t just behind the sink, but also the shower.” She groaned, finding it hard to keep her usual optimism. Ms. Harrington’s promised “quick” repair had now turned into a complete renovation. “They had to rip out the tile to get to the pipes. And they found mold.”
She sighed. Despite her decision to let go and move on, an external force seemed to be keeping her trapped in Fairfield. “Trust me. I want this move more than anything.”
He turned, facing her. “You and me both. It’ll be nice to see you without having to make an appointment.” His hazel eyes crinkled while his lips turned teasing, but it still made her feel bad.
“I’m not that busy.” He was right, though; they didn’t see each other much.
“You work practically every night.”
“And you work every day.”
“So you see my conundrum.” His head dipped along with his voice. “I’m starting to miss you.”
Laila’s stomach tumbled at the intimacy of his words and the way his breath lightly floated past her ear. She liked him, liked spending time with him. But she also liked the fact that they could spend days apart and thoughts of him didn’t consume her mind. She and Ben were the exact opposite of the overwhelming force that had been her first love. She’d had no desire to recreate that whirlwind.
Ben played with the tips of her finger, rubbing his thumb across her short and broken nails. “Caden will be here today, you know.”
She had known. “You don’t have to tell him who I am.” They’d agreed to keep their relationship hidden from his young son for a while—a decision she respected. Ben didn’t want to invite anyone new into Caden’s life until he was certain the relationship was solid.
“Actually, I already did.” He lifted her hand to his lips. Placed a soft kiss on her knuckle. “And I was hoping maybe we could have dinner tonight, the three of us. And if things go well, maybe we can all take a weekend trip to the beach. My parents have a house there.”
Laila had to swallow the sudden need to cough. They’d had “the talk” a couple weeks ago, and Ben mentioned that he was ready for her to meet his son . . . if she was. At the time, it seemed like the logical next step.
But now, hearing those words from his lips, recognizing the significance of them, well, it suddenly made the relationship feel very, very real.
“I work tonight.” Her unavailability was almost a relief. Meeting Caden, being included in their little family, was a huge responsibility, and there was still so much about her life she hadn’t shared with Ben.
He knew the outlined version, that she’d been divorced for a year and her ex-husband was an addict who’d basically abandoned her. He even knew that she was a bartender at Joe’s Bar, though he’d been plenty eager to help her get a resume together for a different line of work. But the intricacies of those relationships, the depth of pain she still struggled with, well, she’d been careful to keep those feelings close to her chest.
“What about tomorrow night? I’ll still have Caden and . . . wait.” He paused, his groan regretful. “His spring musical is tomorrow night. I’d invite you, but his mom will be there, and I don’t want things to be uncomfortable.”
“Of course.” She squeezed his hand. Ben’s wife had left him for another man several years ago, and even still, Ben tried his best to respect the times when both families combined. “You don’t have to apologize for protecting your son. It’s something I absolutely respect about you.”
“Saturday?”
“Working again.” She laughed despite herself. “I’m sorry. I swear, the universe is not on our side.”
“Okay, so how about this? Caden goes back to his mom’s on Saturday. I’ll drop him off and then come hang with you at Joe’s afterward.”
Her breath hitched. For the past three and a half months, she’d been very careful not to let any part of her world in Burchwood infiltrate the life she lived in Fairfield. “But you don’t drink.” A fact she had made sure of before they’d ever gone out. “And it’s a long drive in the opposite direction. Plus, you’d be exhausted for church on Sunday.” And she had at least forty other reasons why his crashing into her world was a very, very bad idea.
“I know, but if I ever want to see you, I’m going to have to make some sacrifices. Especially now that the move has been delayed.” He scrutinized her face. “You’re turning pale. Do you not want to spend time with me?”
“Yes, of course I do.” But Ben showing up at Joe’s would be equivalent to an atomic bomb. “It’s just that Joe gets really upset when we have friends stop in. He says it’s too distracting, especially on a Saturday.” She hated lying to him, but there was no way she could explain the blind loyalty her town had to her ex-husband. “We’ll just see each other on Sunday, okay?” In Burchwood, where it was safe and fresh and completely without her ghosts.
A glimmer of annoyance crossed his face, the first she’d ever seen. “How will we ever develop anything meaningful if we only see each other once a week?”
“Exactly, which is why I’m here now.” She pressed in and playfully pinched his side. The casual touch seemed to surprise him almost as much as it surprised her. When it came to physicality, they were still very cautious with each other.
“Okay, okay,” he said, his tone lifting. “I’ll try to stay patient.”
She smiled up at him, and to her relief, Ben smiled back.
Two of the volunteers approached, and though Ben inched away, he slid his hand back into hers. Both women were old enough to be her grandmother, and both had contagious smiles that made Laila want to brew hot tea and beg them for tales of their youths.
She’d never known her mother’s parents; they’d cut off her mom when she’d gotten pregnant with Laila at sixteen. But when she was young, Laila dreamed up stories of her father’s parents. How one day her mom would finally tell her grandparents about their long-lost granddaughter, and they would come rescue her from the filthy house and revolving door of her mother’s cruel boyfriends.
Alas, they never came.
Ben released her hand only to wrap an arm around her. “Eleanor, Francis. This is Laila, my girlfriend. She’s considering being a volunteer.” He winked at her.
“It’s nice to meet you both,” Laila said, despite the sudden flush to her cheeks.
“Oh, you just wait.” Eleanor clasped her hands together. “These kids are so sweet; you will be mesmerized the minute they come filing in. Did Ben assign you to a group?”
“Laila’s just going to hang back and observe today.” Ben gave her a final squeeze before releasing her. “We don’t want to scare her off.”
Francis patted her arm. “Well, hon, I hope
you enjoy it. For me, those smiling faces are the highlight of my week.”
“Thank you. I’m sure I will.”
Ben found her hand again and pulled her toward the equipment he had abandoned. He kept turning to stare at her, then finally chuckled. “You still look terrified.”
“I’m fine.” She offered a reassuring smile, but inside she knew her unease wasn’t just about the kids’ program.
Ms. Harrington had promised her that the bathroom fix would take no more than six weeks, yet the move felt like a lifetime away. Ben was a patient, understanding guy, but eventually, he was going to want to know why, in all the time they’d been together, she’d never let him step foot in her hometown.
CHAPTER 4
The Kids’ Bible Club was beyond Laila’s expectations. Sixty kids from first grade all the way to fifth were singing praise music and dancing around, every one of them full of energy and cute giggles. Caden especially.
He was practically a duplicate of his father, the only difference being that his hair was so blond it glowed white under the fluorescent lighting. When she’d met him, he’d smiled shyly and hid behind his father’s leg. Now, when he wasn’t laughing at his dad pretending to be Noah building the ark, Caden would sneak peeks at her over his shoulder.
Laila sat in the back, observing from a row of chairs offered to parents, but only one other lady watched with her. She had shoulder-length brown hair cut in a bob style with streaks of gray running through the strands. The woman kept her eyes locked on a little girl in the back with identical brown braids dangling from each side of her head. The girl wasn’t exactly separate from the crowd, but as the group of kids pushed closer to Ben’s dramatic storytelling, she sat stoically with her head down.
Every so often, the woman would look over at Laila like she knew her. Laila simply smiled at first, but eventually the repeated stares made her wonder if she’d been recognized from Fairfield.
Ben finished his story by having all the kids make rain noises. Several kids stood and stomped; some did rain dances; others banged on the floor. Laila wanted to yell and make sounds too, just because they seemed to be having so much fun. She fully understood why Ben chose to do this with his limited spare time.
Finally, the eruption of noise subsided, and the leaders took over, corralling the kids back into their smaller groups. Ben had said this is where they’d have discussions or play games to further understand the lesson.
“If you think they’re excited now, you should see them when they hand out the Bibles at the beginning of the year.” The woman had scooted over two chairs and was now only one away from Laila. “It’s amazing the school allows this program, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I think it’s wonderful.” What a different life she might have had if only Fairfield had done the same. The first time she’d opened a Bible was when Katie gave her one last September for her birthday. At the time, she’d been put off that her friend was pushing her new faith on her, but now the words soothed her in a way nothing else had been able to.
“I’m Kim.” The woman offered a hand that Laila softly shook. “I didn’t mean to stare earlier. You just remind me of someone.”
Butterflies assaulted her stomach, but Laila forced herself to remain calm. She didn’t want people in Burchwood to know her history. This was supposed to be a fresh beginning. “Oh, okay. No problem.”
“My granddaughter is over there. She just came to live with us a few months ago.”
Once again, Laila’s gaze directed to the little girl in braids. She sat unmoving in the group, neither participating nor talking. The group seemed to continue without her as if the behavior were normal or expected. Even Kim didn’t seem surprised, just sad.
Compassion overruled her desire to remain unnoticed. Laila had been a bartender long enough to know when people needed to talk. “She seems to be a little nervous.”
“Not nervous. Just checked out.” Kim pulled a tissue from her purse and dabbed her eye. “She’s been like this since they placed her with us.”
“I’m sorry.” It was all she could say.
“She doesn’t speak. Not even to me.” Kim brushed away another tear and clutched her tissue. “You probably think I’m insane for sharing this with a perfect stranger. But you look so much like my daughter that I feel like I know you.”
“Your daughter?”
“Brianna, Sierra’s mom. She wore her hair like yours all the time. That long, over-the-shoulder braid down to her waist. It wasn’t quite as blonde, and you’re a little thinner, but still, if I didn’t know better, you two could be related.” She sighed. “Sierra makes me braid her hair every day. I think because it helps her feel closer to her mother.”
“What happened to her?”
The tears came again, and Laila immediately regretted the question.
“She’s made some bad choices. Got into drugs at a young age and never really recovered. They removed Sierra at Christmas after my daughter left her alone for three days.”
Laila felt her own eyes fill as she watched the girl. Another victim of drugs. Another child who would grow up damaged. “Where is Brianna now?”
“She’s doing time for possession and child endangerment. Part of me is relieved, because it’s the first time she’s been removed from the drugs. I keep thinking maybe, if she gets the right help, she’ll find her way back to the person she used to be.”
Laila didn’t have the heart to tell the crying woman her hope was in vain. Instead, she stared at the timid little girl and tried, without success, to stop the memory flooding her mind.
I slide through my bedroom window an hour after curfew. Not because I’m rebellious or anything. It’s just because I’ve never had a curfew before, and the only reason I do tonight is because Mom’s new boyfriend decided it was wrong to let a fifteen-year-old stay out all night. Katie said if I went home on time, he’d just do more and more to control me, so I stayed away out of principle.
“Laila. Come in here please.” His deep voice rumbles down the hall and through the door of my room. Our trailer is small, and I should have known they’d hear me sneak in.
I square my shoulders the way my best friend would and walk into the living room. Mom’s there, and she’s high on her pain meds again, so despite the anger simmering off her boyfriend, she has a smile on her face.
Mr. Mortenson stands. He’s not like the others. He doesn’t try to be my friend, or worse, something sicker. No, he made it very clear when he moved in that I was under him, and he was to be addressed with respect.
“Are you aware of what time it is?”
“Yes, sir.” My bravado falters, and I wish I’d let Katie come with me like she’d offered. She wouldn’t be scared of him. She isn’t scared of anyone.
“Good.” He takes a step toward me, and before I can blink, pain slashes across my cheek. The force makes me stumble into the wall, and my third-grade picture—the last one my mom bothered to frame—goes crashing to the ground.
Tears swarm my eyes, and I don’t know if I’m more in shock from the slap or from the fact that my mom still sits on the couch, that lost smile branded on her face.
“You’re grounded. No TV. No phone.” He sits back down, and my mom doesn’t move except to make room for him. “Is that clear?”
“Yes, sir.” I stumble back to the bedroom in a daze and reach for the phone I’m now forbidden to use.
“Hey, babe,” Chad says in that lazy, tucked-in-bed voice of his. I see his house from my window and wish his arms were around me.
“Mr. Mortenson . . . he . . .” Sobs clog my throat, drowning out all I planned to say.
“Laila?”
I hear him move, hear a door slam through the phone.
“Get your stuff. I’m coming to get you right now.”
I don’t respond, but hang up and pack the bag in a daze. Despite all the men in and out of our house, Mr. Mortenson is the first one to hit me. I guess, in a way, I’m lucky.
I don’t even get
two shirts in my duffel before I hear the front door slam against the wall and shouts in the living room. Within seconds, I’m rushing toward the voice of the person who always rescues me.
The moment Chad sees my face, he freezes, his limbs going as hard as a statue. His eyes trail over my skin and land on the spot near my swelling eye.
Chad moves faster than I’ve ever seen him move. He grabs my mom’s boyfriend by his shirt, slams him up against the wall, and punches him repeatedly until my mother is screaming, and that stupid smile is finally gone from her face.
Mr. Mortenson is on the ground bleeding. I shouldn’t enjoy it, but the bruise on my face still burns, and it makes me glad he feels the same pain.
Chad crouches down and holds a knife I didn’t even know he had. “Touch her again, and I’ll kill you. I know what juvie is like. My cousin did two years there, so don’t think I’m bluffing.”
We rush away and hide in the tree house before Mr. Mortenson can retaliate. Katie meets us there. It’s the night the three of us carve our names into the wood and vow to be each other’s family. A unit of solidarity against a cruel world.
In the morning, I see Mr. Mortenson’s destruction. My mom’s cheek is the same purple color as mine, and the TV is smashed.
“He left me and it’s your fault!” she hollers at me. “It’s always your fault.”
Laila couldn’t help herself. She reached over and clutched Kim’s hand. She’d wished the same thing most of her life—that her mom would wake up one day and find a way to be healthy—but time had a way of dissolving hope. Years later, her mom was still addicted to pills, floating from one guy to the next. People that far gone didn’t change. Not really.
The praise music began again, chasing away the memories. Laila let go of Kim’s hand, and they stood, now focused on the little girl who had suffered so much.
Sierra untangled her legs, but instead of joining the rest of the kids, she seemed to search for someone. Kim waved, and Sierra began walking in her direction. She wore the same Burchwood uniform as the other girls there—a khaki skirt and green polo shirt. Her white socks were pulled up high on her shins, and her tennis shoes were pink with green laces.
My Unexpected Hope Page 3