Like a Love Song

by Camille Eide

  In that dark motel, Suzy looked at the telephone, belly twisting, legs shaking. Maybe she should call the police.

  But if her mama was just downtown having fun, then the police might take her to jail. Other girls’ mamas didn’t leave them alone for days. If Suzy got Mama in trouble with the police, Suzy would be given away to strangers again, and that scared her even more.

  It turned out she hadn’t hidden herself so well after all. Somebody called the police, and into another foster home she went. She never did find out how long it had taken her mama to come back that time.

  It wasn’t until that bogus ‘reunion’ weekend at the beach a few years later that she found out all her hopes were a joke. At twelve, Sue had finally wised up and realized her mom didn’t give a spit wad about her. As long as there was a man nearby, Suzy would always be left out in the cold.

  Sue made a last swipe across the floor and stuffed the mop in the bucket. Over the years, she’d worked hard to forget the sting of repeated abandonment and seal off the emptiness. Ironically, being single had helped. It kept things simple, disappointment-free. And that was exactly how things needed to stay.

  “Did you hear what I said? I love you.”

  Angry tears sprang to her eyes. At least Joe hadn’t added I promise.

  But it didn’t matter. Nothing good had ever come from those three words. Nothing but the whiff of a sweet fragrance on a gust of wind, no sooner here than gone. Nothing that hadn’t left her feeling lonelier and emptier than if she’d never heard them to begin with.

  Sue wheeled the mop bucket down the hallway and into the dining hall.

  A red-faced Daisy glowered at Sonja, who was righting a tangle of dining chairs in the doorway. “My job, Sonja. Move!” Daisy plowed into the pile of chairs with her wheelchair and knocked over another one.

  Sonja threw an exasperated look at Sue. “She’s going to break something, Miss Susan. I’m just trying to set them back up right, so they’re easier to move.”

  Sue heaved a tired sigh. “Let Daisy move the chairs however she wants to, Sonja.”

  Haley took the bucket from Sue and resumed mopping.

  Jasmine entered from the kitchen with a handful of cups. “Miss Roberta looking for you.”

  “Thank you. Where is she?”

  “Kitchen.” Jasmine deposited the cups on the sideboard.

  Sue went to the kitchen. The boys were busy cooking up something with garlic and basil that smelled amazing.

  Bertie emerged from the pantry.

  With Joe. He tensed when he saw her.

  Sue directed her gaze at Bertie. “You wanted me?”

  Joe took the package he was holding to the stove, where Chaz was stirring something in a stockpot in slow, steady circles.

  “Not anymore,” Bertie said. “Joe helped me out. I thought we were out of meat but there was a whole case in the freezer. Unmarked. Funny, I’d never seen it before. It’s a meat-mystery.”

  Sue nodded absently as Joe walked away, then she returned to the dining hall.

  Bertie followed. “Hey, what happened last night? I’m still waiting to get the full scoop.”

  Flushed, Sue headed for the sideboard and took out stacks of plates. Of course Bertie meant the dinner, not what happened afterward. “I didn’t meet anyone who could help.”

  “Yeah, I gathered that much. Heard it as you stumbled past me and disappeared into your sleeping bag. I was just wondering what happened. Joe said—”

  “What?” Her tone sounded like a frantic terrier. “I mean, what did he tell you?”

  Bertie tilted her head, her quizzical look deepening. “He said some guy at that dinner insulted you, and you lit out early.”

  “It was nothing. Just a drunk slimeball with a mouth. I overreacted. Badly. I shouldn’t have let it get to me, but I did, and now it’s done.” She wasn’t going to bring up how childish it was for a grown woman to freak out and spill drinks all over rich people, then stumble out of a perfectly good banquet because of some irrational old fear. “The dinner was a great idea. Unfortunately, it didn’t work out.”

  “So that’s it then? We’re shutting down?”

  Heart hammering, Sue checked on the girls. Had they heard that?

  Jasmine and Haley were moving the table back into place. Sonja and Daisy were moving chairs one by one.

  The old woman winced. “Sorry, boss. Forgot you haven’t told them yet.”

  “I know. I need to.” Sue’s gaze swept around the room and rested on Jasmine.

  The girl must have felt herself being watched, because she turned to Sue and flashed a cheesy grin.

  A sudden urge to hug the girl came over Sue, but with it came a fear that Jasmine would sense something wrong. Sue moved to the window facing Table Rock instead. The longer she put off telling the kids, the longer she could pretend nothing was going to change.

  Bertie joined her.

  Sue closed her eyes. “I’ll tell them, Bert. I just need a little more time. Normal time without all the strain of—you know. Knowing they’re being sent away again.”

  Bertie patted Sue’s shoulder. “I am sorry, Sue. Truly. I wish there was some other way. Guess it would take a miracle at this point.”

  Sue stole a glance at Bertie. Did she believe in miracles? Sue couldn’t bring herself to ask.

  “So what’s next?”

  “That’s the question, isn’t it? I’m going to the bank Monday with a mortgage payment, and I’m hoping for some leniency.”

  “A full payment? How’d you manage that?”

  “I saved a little by cutting down on payroll hours.” Not to mention Joe’s offer to work for just room and board.

  “And you didn’t take a paycheck again.”

  Sue shrugged.

  “And you sold the Harley.”

  “Yeah, that helped.” She winced at the reminder of another loss. “But I’m afraid it’s all just money wasted.”

  Bertie patted Sue’s shoulder, gave it a squeeze. “I know it’s tough. Maybe you’ll catch a break. But if it doesn’t work out, these kids will be all right. You’ll see.”

  Sue gave Bertie a faint, less-than-genuine smile. If only she believed it.

  * * *

  Monday afternoon, Sue changed lanes a couple blocks before the bank and nearly wiped out a Honda Civic because she forgot to check her mirrors. She still couldn’t think about that night with Joe in the Suburban without seeing that look on his face. Or how it had taken him more than an hour to return to Layne’s house after storming off down the road. Or how silent he’d been ever since.

  If they were going to continue working together for the time remaining, she and Joe would have to talk. Somehow, they needed to put the strain between them aside.

  Sue arrived at the bank in time for her three o’clock appointment. Hand on the door, she paused. So, God, if You really want to show off Your moves, now would be a great time.

  Inside the building, Sue was directed across the lobby to a loan officer’s desk.

  After introductions, Sue bit her lip and drew out the check she’d prepared—everything she had, down to her last dime—along with the last letter from the bank. “I was hoping we could talk about a way to stall the auction. Even if it’s just for one month. I have this month’s payment.”

  Nikki, the loan officer, took the check and glanced at it. “The bank is not usually in a position to alter the terms of foreclosure proceedings. However, in some circumstances, there may be a way to make an exception. Let’s take a look at your account.”

  Was it crazy to hope this could work?

  The woman turned to her computer screen and clicked away at the keyboard with lacquered nails, reading the account number on Sue’s letter and typing in data. “Okay. I have your account here. Let’s see. I’m pulling up the amount due by end of business today.”

  Sue nodded.

  Nikki picked up Sue’s check and read it, then looked at the screen again, this time a tiny frown creasing her smooth forehea
d. She set the check down and clasped her hands, still frowning.

  What? Had Sue forgotten to sign it? Dated it wrong?

  “This is the amount of your regular mortgage payment.”

  “Yes.” Sue nodded.

  “But this is not the amount due.” She turned her monitor so Sue could see the account record. “This is.”

  Sue stared at the screen, shaking her head. That couldn’t be right. “But that’s nearly twice the payment amount.”

  “Bank and attorney fees incurred since the last notice of default are included in the current balance.” The woman touched the paper. “As stated in the letter.”

  Sue looked at the words without seeing them, heart sinking. “But I don’t have …”

  “I’m sorry, but the notice of default clearly states that, unless we receive the full past balance due, including all fees incurred, we must proceed with the terms of foreclosure. The property is scheduled to go to auction” —she tapped the keys some more and read her screen— “January seventh.”

  Sue read the calendar on the cubicle wall. Three weeks. “What about the kids—the people living there? How long do we have?”

  “The property must be vacated within ten days of the sale.”

  So that was it. She and the kids had to be out in about thirty days.

  In a fog, Sue left the bank and headed for the Suburban. A gust of icy wind knocked her back a step. It also blew away the numbness, exposing her to a bitter cold that had nothing to do with the wind. Shivering, she climbed into her car, fumbled to start it, and cranked up the heat. Thanks, God. I guess I know where You and I stand. Again.

  No more time, no more options. She’d known this was coming, even expected it. But somehow that knowledge hadn’t prepared her for the grief cutting a frozen path straight through her heart. She had no choice but to tell the kids they were going to be sent away.

  How could she even tell them? She could imagine their faces, the shock. Daisy. Edgar and Chaz. Brandi.

  Jasmine.

  A sharp pang hit her chest at the memory of Jasmine’s tiny, tear-soaked face the day she had clung so tightly to Sue, desperate to know she wasn’t an unwanted freak, desperate to be loved.

  These kids had been let down so much already, suffered so many broken promises. This would only prove to them no one wanted them. It was like a horrible, sick joke. Sue had been determined to make a difference in their lives, and yet all she had done was make things worse.

  “What have I done?” Her heart throbbed in her throat, threatening to burst.

  I’ve let them down.

  No.

  She let her forehead smack against the steering wheel, launching a torrent of tears. No, this wasn’t about letting a bunch of needy kids down.

  It was about losing her kids.

  The only real family she’d ever known.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Late Monday afternoon, Joe punched off the call with the oil company manager and stowed his phone. Knowing the new rig would be operational on schedule didn’t bring the satisfaction he’d expected.

  Which was really weird, because the past few days, he’d wanted nothing more than to hit the road.

  He surveyed the progress his guys were making on dorm cleanup.

  Not bad. Anything blatantly filthy was either in the garbage or stashed out of sight, and now the dorm smelled only slightly of rank socks. Bed-making and room-tidying had slacked off lately. Room checks hadn’t exactly been a priority. His guys didn’t seem to mind.

  The thought of packing up and heading to Louisiana early had crossed his mind several times since Friday night. But the boys still needed a dorm counselor. And next week was Christmas. He couldn’t leave the kids without any warning or a proper good-bye. Besides, the first of January would come soon enough.

  A date he probably ought to mention to his current employer.

  He pulled on his work jacket, put Edgar in charge, and slipped out.

  Feathery snow fell, coating the valley in an endless blanket of white. Squeals of laughter came from the staff quarters out back.

  Crossing the yard, he stuffed his hands in his coat pockets and followed the sound.

  He’d kept busy enough on Saturday to avoid fuming over what had happened with Sue. Then he spent most of Sunday walking the desert, talking to his Father in the quiet of the frozen dunes. The miles of stillness had eased some of the sting. The rest would fade with time. Her avoidance of love probably wasn’t about him. Maybe she was a prisoner, bound by her fears.

  But stewing over Sue and the walls around her heart was pointless. His stay here was nearly up. Time to move on.

  He rounded the end of the building and stopped.

  Jasmine and Haley tossed snowballs in the air for Ringo. The dog leaped into the air, jaws snapping, and crushed the balls in one bite, sending Jasmine into a fit of giggles.

  Sue stood off to one side, watching.

  He trudged toward her.

  Jasmine offered Ringo a snowball, but the dog licked her hand instead. Jasmine sank to her knees and hugged his furry neck.

  As Joe drew near, Sue turned with a start. Her eyes were red and swollen, her expression hollow. As if someone had just killed her best friend.

  Joe’s heart twisted, right on cue. Apparently his heart hadn’t gotten the rejection memo. He sighed. “Got a second?”

  She swiped at her eyes. “Sure.”

  He moved closer and kept his voice low. “I got a call from the oil company today. They want me on deck January first. Just wanted to give you a heads-up.”

  “Thank you. That’s good to know.”

  “I know things are up in the air now. Maybe you can get one of those temp ladies to stay on through January to cover me when—”

  “I won’t need any more help.” She turned and walked to the picnic table. She swept snow off the top in brisk, even strokes.

  Jasmine rushed to Joe and offered a crumbling snowball. “Throw it high, Papa Joe. Ringo love to catch.”

  “Does he? Let’s see.” Joe tossed the snowball in the air.

  Ringo dashed and jumped, catching it.

  “Cool trick, Jas. Did you teach him that?”

  Sue brushed snow, then wiped her face with the back of a sleeve.

  It’s none of your business. Leave it alone.

  She was upset about the ranch, understandably. Losing her dream to give kids a place to grow up confident, equipped, ready to face the world. Losing what mattered most to her.

  She doesn’t want your sympathy or your help. Or anything else from you. Remember?

  Yeah, he remembered. It was just that his heart was having a hard time keeping up. Joe rolled another snowball and tossed it to the dog, then went to Sue.

  She cast a sideways glance at him and swiped her cheeks again.

  “What’s wrong, Sue?”

  She shook her head. “Nothing I didn’t see coming.”

  He shifted his stance to watch the girls and Ringo, giving Sue some space. “The ranch?”

  “The auction’s in three weeks.” She lowered her voice. “We have to be out ten days after that.”

  Jasmine threw a snowball for Ringo, but it went low and hit Haley in the rear. With a squeal, Haley turned and chased a shrieking Jasmine across the yard.

  As Joe watched the girls play, a dull weight settled over him. It had to be tough for Sue, knowing she was about to lose everything she’d worked for and the kids she couldn’t admit she’d grown to love. And he suspected it would only get tougher in the days to come.

  And there wasn’t a thing he could do about it.

  * * *

  Tuesday, Joe trudged down the trail from the chapel to the dorm. Four days had passed since the gala disaster and not much had changed.

  Sue had kept busy and quiet, and the kids still didn’t know about the ranch closing.

  He slipped inside the boys’ empty dorm. Despite the time he’d spent in prayer, the heaviness that had driven Joe to the chapel hadn’t l
ifted.

  The boys had joined the others in the main house to watch a holiday video. He’d join them too—if he could be better company.

  In spite of the recent cleaning, the dorm was more cluttered than ever. He still had a stack of junk mail to sort and toss, including a handful of letters from Jefferson-Lovett. Why the Realtor in La Pine felt he needed to know every time an owner abutting his property lobbied for new zoning was beyond him. He’d gotten newsletters in Alaska and now they’d followed him here. Maybe he’d forgo having his mail forwarded when he moved to the Gulf. He tossed the letters in the trash and kicked strewn dirty clothes into piles.

  But what if the letters were something he needed to read? A couple years ago, he’d found out at tax time that his property taxes had shot up. The newsletters he’d tossed probably would’ve warned him of that.

  Joe snagged one out of the trash and opened it. He scanned the pages, first in confusion, then a second time in disbelief. Property value in La Pine had multiplied in the last couple of years.

  He read the dates of his original purchase. A bunch of Realtor lingo about an unprecedented market value upheaval. More stuff about land values spiking at a ratio of one to one hundred.

  His brain wasn’t computing the math. He rubbed his stubbly jaw and read the information again, then went on to the second page. His acreage was listed in a column with the original purchase price of one thousand dollars per acre. Another column showed the market value of his acres if they were listed today.

  His property was worth one hundred thousand now? Incredible!

  No, that wasn’t right. Joe shook his head and ran through the information again.

  The values listed were per acre.

  He had twelve acres.

  One hundred thousand times twelve …

  “No way,” he whispered. “That’s …”

  One point two million.

  Joe slumped against the door and read the page again.

  One point two million?

  The letter also said acreage in La Pine was flying. Buyers coming out of the woodwork for prime Central Oregon property.

  One point two—

  He could pay for—

  Wait, what’s the interest on that?