by Dorie Graham
His heart thumped. “Am I going to stay with her?”
She nodded. “I called her last night. We’ll start with a week and see how it goes. Okay?”
Relief and sadness jumbled up inside him. He threw himself against her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “Thanks, Mom.” He pushed back to look at her. “Gram thinks a little break will help us both. Maybe she’s right. Maybe it will be easier for you if I’m not here.”
Her eyes widened and she covered her mouth with her fingertips. Then she hugged him close against her again. “Don’t you worry about me, little man—oh, honey, I’m sorry. I forgot.”
“It’s okay,” he said.
“I’ll be fine.”
He wanted to say he knew she would be fine, but he wasn’t sure she’d ever be fine. “And I can come back when I want to, right?”
“Of course, honey.” She pushed his hair off his forehead. “This is still your home. You can come anytime you want. All you have to do is call me and I’ll come and get you. Maybe we should get you one of those prepaid phones.”
Anticipation washed out some of his sadness. “My own phone?”
She nodded. “I’m going to miss you. I’m going to want to talk to you every day.”
“I’d like that,” he said. “I’m going to miss you, too. You’ll have to make a list of meals you want me to make for you when I come back and I’ll ask Gram to teach me how.”
“That sounds great,” she said. “But remember, this is temporary, Grey. It’s just until I’m feeling a little better, okay?”
“Of course. Until we can have a more normal life, right?” he asked. Surely it wouldn’t take her that long. She’d want to have him back and so she’d work on getting better.
“Why don’t you pack what you want and then I’ll look through it and add anything else I think you might need. I’ll drop this by Gram’s house while you’re at school. It’ll be there tonight when you get there.”
“Will you get me a phone today and pack it, too?” he asked. Gram was going to be so excited. He couldn’t wait to see her.
“Yes, I’ll do that.” Mom smiled. It wasn’t her fake smile, but it wasn’t her happy smile, either. It was kind of sad. “Hurry, though,” she said. “You still need to hop in the shower.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“I love you, Grey.” Her voice broke and she wasn’t smiling at all anymore.
Grey’s stomach ached again and his throat got all tight. “I love you, too.”
She smiled that unhappy smile and then slipped out of his room. He stared at the closed door and rubbed his stomach. He was getting the break he wanted. So, why did he feel so bad? And why hadn’t she answered his question about them having a more normal life?
CHAPTER THIRTY
THE LIGHT BUZZ of conversation mixed with the acoustic guitar music as Claire stared at her laptop screen. What had she just read? She sighed in frustration and scrolled to the top of the contract she was reviewing. After rereading the same paragraph four times without comprehension, she gave up.
She was so tired of being tired. Her head throbbed and her eyes felt dry and rough. A young couple sat across from her, deep in conversation, leaning in toward each other.
Lucas was probably at The Coffee Stop. Even after a week of coming to this new shop every day, she had still almost pulled into his parking lot this morning. She just couldn’t face him and, after their last conversation, it wasn’t likely he’d want to see her.
I can’t stand by and watch you destroy the rest of your life.
Why couldn’t he believe in her enough to stand by her while she figured this out? She’d downloaded three books on PTSD and had even stopped by the bookstore and bought a guide to self-managed recovery.
She really was trying, but the depression dragged her so far down, she wasn’t sure she could ever lift herself back up. Every morning she struggled more and more to get herself out of bed. Normally she couldn’t get up fast enough, but what good would it do for her to leave, when it seemed the anxiety followed her these days?
And it was worse to be in public with a panic attack coming on.
And Grey. She couldn’t even let herself think about Grey. She missed him so much it hurt. Every day he called her and he sounded so...happy. She should be thrilled he was doing so well, but it just made her feel worse.
“Miss Murphy, can I get you anything?”
She startled, nearly knocking her laptop to the floor. Ramsey Carter, the young man who worked for Lucas, stood beside her. She stared at him in confusion.
“Ramsey? What are you doing here?” she asked.
Pink tinged his cheeks. “I work here.”
“Do you mean you’re working two jobs? Aren’t you going to school?”
His flush deepened and he looked away. “No, ma’am, I don’t work at The Coffee Stop anymore.”
“I don’t understand. You left Lucas’s shop to come here to work? I can’t believe Lucas is happy about that.”
He met her gaze. “I came here after he let me go.”
“Why would he do that?” Lucas had been so supportive of the young man. What could have happened?
“I...did something stupid,” he said.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. It’s your business. I’m just surprised.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Are you all right? I mean, it isn’t any of my business, but you...don’t look...your usual spry self. Is there anything I can get you or do for you?”
It was Claire’s turn to be embarrassed. Was her misery so obvious? “I’m fine, Ramsey,” she said. “Thank you.”
He nodded and started to leave, but turned back. “So, why are you here? I thought you and the boss man were...”
She bit her lip and the damn sadness welled up inside her again. She shook her head. “No, we’re not. Not anymore.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Me, too.”
“Well, I should get back to work. Please let me know if you need anything.”
“Ramsey?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“When did you leave The Coffee Stop?”
“About a week ago,” he said. “Why?”
She shrugged. “I just... How was Lucas?”
“He was in a dark mood. Granted, that was probably because I messed up so bad, but...I don’t know, he just didn’t seem right.” He gestured toward her. “I guess you being here would explain that.”
“Thank you,” she said and he nodded again, and then left.
Sunlight drifted through the nearby window. She should have felt its warmth, but hearing Lucas wasn’t okay only made her more miserable. Whatever Ramsey had done must have been really bad for Lucas to let him go. It must have been difficult for him to deal with that situation on the heels of the fiasco Claire had put him through.
She’d made Lucas unhappy and she’d driven away her son. She closed her eyes as the back of her head tightened yet again. Lucas had been right. Her symptoms were getting worse. She couldn’t stay here any longer, in case this turned out to be another full-blown attack. She had to leave now.
* * *
RAIN POURED DOWN in sheets across Aunt Becca’s front window. The sound of the TV was lost amid the onslaught on the glass and roof. Grey turned to Amanda, who leaned over the back of the sofa with him, staring out of the window.
“Do you think Gram will wait to come get me?” he asked.
The gloom of the day had settled on him. He felt...heavy. He pulled his phone out of his pocket to check the display. Mom hadn’t called him back. In fact, for the past few days she had texted instead of phoning, but she hadn’t even done that today.
Had she forgotten about him?
His cousin shrugged. “I don’t know. Why?”
“She might not want to drive in this,” he said as the drumming of the rain on the roof intensified.
Amanda tilted her head back to look at the ceiling. “It’s loud.”
She turned to Grey. “Will my daddy not want to drive in this?”
Grey shook his head. “He might be okay, but I wouldn’t drive in this.”
“You can’t drive,” Amanda said with a giggle.
“If I could drive.” Grey shook his head. Amanda could be silly at times.
“Will you play dolls with me?” she asked.
“No.”
“But you’re done with your homework.”
“I don’t want to play dolls. Do you want to make something in the kitchen?” he asked.
Her eyes widened. “You mean like cook something? Mommy doesn’t let me do that.”
“Gram is teaching me to cook. I can make peanut butter cookies,” he said. “Almost as good as your mom’s.”
Amanda smiled. “I like peanut butter cookies. We have to ask Mommy, though.”
Grey found Aunt Becca in the laundry room. Amanda trailed along behind him. He asked, “Can we make peanut butter cookies?”
Aunt Becca’s eyebrows arched. “I don’t know, Grey. I need to get the laundry finished before Kyle gets home.”
“Is Daddy going to drive home in the rain?” Amanda asked.
Aunt Becca peered out the small laundry room window. “It is coming down pretty hard. He might be late.”
“So we have time to make cookies,” Grey said.
“I’m sorry, Grey. I can’t right now. I have a ton of other stuff I need to do,” Aunt Becca said.
“But all I need is a recipe. Or I can call Gram and she can tell me. I can do it by myself. I did it at her house before.”
“I wouldn’t be comfortable with you using the oven without me there to supervise you.”
“But Gram lets me do it all the time. I’ll come get you before I turn the oven on and when I’m going to put the cookies in and stuff,” Grey said.
Why was Aunt Becca making this so hard? Why hadn’t his mom returned his call? Was she out driving in this? Was she okay?
“Why don’t you play with Amanda? I’m sure you two can find something else to do,” Aunt Becca said.
Amanda bounced on her toes. “Yes, play dolls with me.”
“No.” Grey was getting really frustrated now. “I don’t want to play dolls. Why can’t I make cookies? Call Gram. She’ll tell you I do a good job. I don’t make a big mess and I clean up after myself.”
“No cookies, Grey.” Aunt Becca moved clothes from the washing machine into the dryer. “I’m not calling Gram and I don’t want you to, either. She might be on the road in this. I don’t want to distract her.
“If you don’t want to play with Amanda, go watch TV. I’ll bet there’s something good on the History Channel.” She grabbed the empty hamper and headed out of the room.
Amanda hurried after her and Grey stared out of the window, where the rain pelted the glass so hard everything outside was a big blur. He felt like his life was a big blur.
* * *
THE STORM battered the house as Claire sat on the living room floor with her back against the wall. Rain pounded the roof and wind roared through the treetops. She pulled her knees close and bowed her head as the pain in her head intensified. Her hands had long since gone numb and her chest constricted as though a band tightened around it with each breath....
The scent of musk drifted in the air. The floorboard creaked behind her as the cold blade of the knife pressed to her neck and her assailant grabbed her from behind.
“No,” she said, clawing at the hand holding the knife.
He spoke low in her ear, his breath hot against her skin. “Don’t fight. I don’t want to hurt you if I don’t have to. We’re just going to have a little fun. You’ll like it. You’ll see.”
“No. Please don’t,” she said through her panic. She twisted, trying to see him, but he’d covered his face with a stocking.
She continued to struggle, while he dragged her to her bedroom. He pushed her facedown on the bed and climbed on top of her. She cried and kicked to no avail.
“You know you want it, the way you flaunt that body of yours,” he said. His voice was rough, as if he was trying to disguise it, but something in his inflection tugged at her memory. Did she know him?
With a huge effort she bucked up, slamming her head backward into his. He yelled out in pain and swayed to the side. She grabbed the stocking and pulled it off.
Phil Adams, a neighbor of her mother’s. Claire gasped, shaking her head. Before she could utter a sound he backhanded her across her face.
He slammed her onto the bed again, this time with his hand at the back of her head. She gasped for air as he pressed her face into the mattress and settled himself between her legs....
The storm raged on outside. Claire curled into fetal position, caught in the never-ending nightmare of her past.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
NOVEMBERS DOOM PLAYED at a subdued volume from the overhead speakers as Lucas surveyed the morning’s customers. He shook his head at the irony of how his staff had started playing metal bands now that Claire had stopped coming by. He ached with missing her and Grey. And Toby. He kept hoping Grey would call to give him an update, but he’d not heard from either of them in almost two weeks.
He passed by the Granbys, saying good morning. Mr. Granby stopped him. “Lucas, our Lucy will be back this weekend. We’ll be sure to bring her by to see you.”
The last thing Lucas wanted was to be set up with anyone else. He pinned on a smile. “I’m sure you’ll be happy to have her home.”
“Oh, look,” Mrs. Granby said as she turned her tablet to show them a picture of a pile of furry kittens. “Poor abandoned babies—they were left at the animal shelter. Don’t you want one? I could just cuddle one up. They were found in a Dumpster, but all they need is a little TLC to make them right as rain.”
“Not for me,” Lucas said.
He’d learned his lesson about fixing everyone. He was done trying. What had it gotten him but failure and disappointment?
The bell on the door tinkled and Ramsey Carter hurried inside, looking a little worse for wear. He glanced around, biting his lip. He found Lucas and strode toward him.
Lucas sighed. Maybe the boy had come to pay his debt and prove he wasn’t a complete loss. Not that Lucas had thought that about him, but the kid had sorely disappointed him.
He held out his hand to the young man. “Ramsey.”
Ramsey shook his hand, glanced around and then motioned Lucas to a seating area away from the other customers.
“What’s up, Ramsey?” Lucas asked when they were alone. The kid looked nervous, but being here for the first time since Lucas had let him go might explain that.
“I wasn’t sure if I should come.” He raised his hand, palm out. “Before you ask, I’m working on the money to pay you back. I don’t have it all yet, but I will soon. I’m working up the street at The Bean Brew now. I’ve been there for a few weeks.”
“Good for you.” Lucas glanced at his watch. The delivery truck would be arriving soon. He should head to the stockroom to make sure he didn’t miss them.
“I thought you should know...”
“What should I know? Out with it. I have things to do,” Lucas said.
“That lady—you know, the one whose house I brought breakfast to that morning? Claire Murphy.”
Lucas’s pulse quickened. “Yes. What about her?”
“She’s been hanging out over there, at The Brew,” he said. “Kind of like she used to hang out here, working and stuff.” He rubbed his hands along his pants. “I guess the two of you aren’t seeing each other anymore.”
“No, we’re not,” he said. “Is that what you wanted to tell me? Just that’s she working from the coffee shop up the street? It really doesn’t concern me, Ramsey.”
“Well, no, actually, I wanted to tell you she isn’t hanging out there anymore.” He shrugged. “I know she’s probably just gone somewhere else, probably because she saw me there and maybe that made her uncomfortable somehow. I don’t know, but first she was t
here all the time, like clockwork, and then there was that last time when she just didn’t seem right. Now she’s not there anymore.”
“What do you mean, she didn’t seem right?” Lucas asked with sudden concern.
“My mom, she gets depressed, like majorly depressed. She’s been hospitalized for it and she...” He exhaled in a noisy rush before continuing. “She swallowed a bunch of pills and I had to call an ambulance and they put her in the hospital. You know, the one for mental health patients.”
Lucas stared at him. “Ramsey, that’s why you took the money?”
He ducked his head. “Yes,” he said. “She doesn’t have health insurance. They wouldn’t even pump her stomach without a down payment. I’m sorry, Lucas. I didn’t know what else to do.”
Okay, universe, so the lesson here is that I’m a heartless moron?
“But that isn’t what I came here to tell you,” Ramsey said. “Miss Murphy, she reminded me of my mom, the way she was acting. She looked exhausted and she couldn’t seem to focus. And she was really down, down like I’ve seen my mom. I talked to her, but she insisted she was fine.” He met Lucas’s gaze. “She wasn’t, though. I could tell. She was anything but okay. So, when she didn’t show up the other day I started to get worried.”
Lucas grabbed the boy’s shoulder as he tried to control his panic. What was wrong with him? So he’d felt responsible for Claire and had walked away for his own self-preservation. But he didn’t have to feel responsible to help her. All he had to do was love her. Wasn’t that enough?
* * *
LUCAS’S HEART THUDDED as he pounded on Claire’s door twenty minutes later. How had he let this happen again? The recent storms had blown debris all over her yard and porch. He tossed a large branch from across her door. She would have moved that if she’d come in or out that way.
He banged again. “Claire, it’s Lucas. Please open up.”
His phone vibrated in his pocket and he withdrew it to see if it was her. He’d left three voice mails on his way over, hoping she’d pick up. It wasn’t her, so he shoved it back in his pocket and kept banging.