She reached to restack the personnel folders he’d thumbed through earlier, as he considered applications for the vacant math-specialist position. He slid them out of her reach.
“Stop coddling me, Edna.” He sat back and smiled as she huffed. “I’m fine.”
“You’re behind, is what you are. Have been for months. Both here and in that mansion your family calls a home.” She scooped his wrinkled suit jacket off the chair he’d dropped it onto, smoothed the material and hung it on the coatrack. “You just don’t know how to ask for help.”
If only there was any real help for Josh’s situation. He’d sold his own home after the divorce and moved back to the house he’d grown up in. His father, drifting through the final stages of Alzheimer’s, hadn’t even known his wife and son by that point. Josh’s mother, frailer at sixty-five than most, thanks to the devastating toll Alzheimer’s took on caregivers, had been at her emotional and physical wit’s end. Josh had finally talked her into moving with his dad to an assisted living center about an hour away, in Demming, so the professionals there could help her handle the progression of his father’s disease.
Melanie had come back to town with Daniel somewhere in the midst of it all, the drama that always swirled around her adding to the strain of their mother’s anxiety and Josh’s messed up life after his divorce. And now they were all gone, all but Daniel. Josh visited his parents as often as he could, and he spoke with his mom each week. But all he’d tell her was that things were fine in Sweetbrook. He refused to burden her with either his or her grandson’s problems. The woman had enough on her hands.
The lack of a family support system wouldn’t have been a problem in the past. Growing up with emotionally absent parents had taught him independence from the cradle. After his divorce, he’d turned to his work and the kids at school to keep him busy. But now he also had Daniel to consider, and the boy’s need for love and attention escalated more each day.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” he made himself say out loud as he got back to work. He hadn’t asked for this kind of responsibility, but it was his nonetheless. Turning his back on his sister’s child was out of the question.
“Oh, it’ll be okay,” Mrs. Lyons agreed in a not-so-agreeable voice. “Once you find a nice young lady to help you make a home for that nephew of yours.”
“I don’t need a nice young lady. What I need—” He initialed the page before him and flipped to the next, grunting at the memory of the string of helpful local women who’d tried to step in where his ex had left off “—is to get these pay sheets approved in time for you and everyone else to receive your checks on Friday.”
“I heard Mary-Ellen Baxter’s Tiffany—”
“Edna, have you by any chance started your own dating service?” He was only half teasing, and a bit too much of his irritation slipped into his voice.
“What?” She was a study in female indignation. At least she was no longer hovering. “I was only—”
“You were trying to fix me up with your best friend’s single daughter.” He dropped his pen, folded his hands and forced himself to smile at the good-intentioned woman who had caught him sneaking out of class in third grade without a hall pass—thus landing him his only stint in detention. “And while I appreciate you looking out for me—”
“I was looking out for the child.” She pulled off dignified and embarrassed like a champ. “If you want to spend the rest of your life alone, that’s your business. But that little boy needs some stability.”
“You’re a good woman, Edna Lyons.” And she was. Gray haired for as long as he’d known her, always dressed in floral prints that did her Southern heritage proud. Tough on the outside, she possessed a marshmallow-cream center the kids in school rarely got a chance to see. “I appreciate you looking out for Daniel. But dating someone I don’t have a hope of connecting with right now wouldn’t end well for anyone.”
The good-intentioned people of Sweetbrook had discreetly arranged for him to meet a parade of local beauties at various potluck dinners, or the Wednesday night trip he always took to the grocery to stock up for the week. Even at the school’s Spring Fling a month ago. All of them were perfectly nice women, but none right for him. Because he wasn’t interested. Not after losing Lisa and so much of what he’d thought the rest of his life would be built around. There wasn’t a woman on earth who’d tempt him to go there again.
Suddenly, his last memories of Amy Loar muscled aside the images of the other women. Memories of Amy laughing with him, kidding him, making his day lighter just because she was in it. Then of her mouth, soft and giving, melting beneath his. Melting away the anger and surprising hurt he’d felt at the thought of her marrying another man. He’d pulled her into his arms, wanting to hold on to something he hadn’t realized he’d needed until that moment. And just for a second, it had seemed as if she was as lost in their kiss as he was. Then she’d shoved him away, almost crying, saying she would never forgive him for what he’d said. For what he’d done….
With a shake of his head, he shifted to the edge of the chair and picked up the next time sheet.
You’ve got no time for daydreaming, man. No time for regrets about the past.
The mistakes he wracked up each time he tried to help Daniel and failed, filled more hours than he had in a day.
“I’ll take care of these, at least,” Edna said, a note of resignation lingering in her voice as she picked up the mail from his out-box and turned to go. “Do you want me to see that you’re not distur—”
“Got a minute for me?” Doug Fletcher popped his head in, bringing Edna to a skidding stop.
She scowled up at the school counselor, clearly arming for battle. No one entered the principal’s office unless she announced him first. But at Josh’s approving nod, she turned away without a word.
“You have a curriculum meeting in ten minutes,” she called over her shoulder. “You don’t want to be late again.”
Doug chuckled at her retreating back.
“You’d better watch your step for the next few days. She’ll have her eye on you.” Josh scanned and initialed the sheet before him. “What’s up?”
“I just got a call from Barbara Thomas.” Doug closed the door, then sat in one of the guest chairs. “She was asking for an update on Daniel.”
Josh began stacking the unsigned reports it was clear he couldn’t finish before his meeting. “We have a home visit scheduled this afternoon.”
“Are things getting better outside of school?” his friend and colleague asked. Doug Fletcher was a top-notch counselor. The best. One of those people who could listen to you recite the alphabet and make it seem as if you were delving into inner truths he found fascinating.
“I’m starting to wonder if things ever will get better,” Josh finally let himself admit. “Living with me, adjusting to this school—” he spread his hands “—none of it is getting any easier for Daniel. He still feels out of place. Like he doesn’t belong here, no matter how much I try to convince him he does.”
“He’s hurting, Josh. The kid just lost his mother, and he was already having difficulty relating to people before that. I suspect it’s an ongoing problem.”
“Yeah. Dr. Rhodes thinks the same thing.”
“Because of the father?”
“We’re not sure. Melanie claimed the man was abusive, and the more I’m around Daniel, the more I’m convinced something happened.” Josh’s fists clenched at the thought of some jerk raising
a hand to his sister and her son. “But Daniel won’t talk about any of it, so we can’t be certain.”
“It would explain a lot of the acting out. The behavior that pushes people away before they get too close.”
“Yeah, or maybe he just doesn’t want to be here.” Josh’s fists clenched again. “I’m not exactly family man of the year right now.”
“You’re doing fine,” his friend countered, repeating Josh’s earlier assurance to Mrs. Lyons. Doug somehow managed to sound as if he meant it. “Just take it slow and give it some time.”
“Yeah.” Josh nodded.
His intercom buzzed long and loud, Edna’s I-told-you-so signal that he was going to be late for the curriculum meeting, after all.
He threw his friend a long-suffering look as they stood to go. “Thankfully we have all kinds of free time around here.”
* * *
AMY PULLED UP THE driveway of her mother’s place a little before three. Gwen Loar’s tiny house looked more like home to Amy than her high-priced loft in the city ever had.
She dragged her garment bag from the 2002 Civic she’d purchased after trading in her Lexus, picked up her briefcase and nudged the trunk closed with her elbow. A wisp of a breeze lifted her bangs, a welcome relief from the early spring heat. Sweetbrook seemed overly warm after the milder temperatures in Atlanta. She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of home.
There was a time, while she was in college, that she’d made it back to this place as often as possible. Then Richard had literally stumbled into her at the University of South Carolina, in the midst of a recruiting trip his legal firm was conducting on campus. She’d been a business major and not at all interested in a career in law. But Richard had been solid and steady, and magnetically handsome.
In his late twenties, he’d been on his way to becoming his firm’s youngest partner. Determined to win Amy’s affection from the moment she’d sloshed her Coke all over his expensive suit in the student union café, he’d pursued her relentlessly, insisting they’d make a good fit. Flattered and awed by the success he wore so comfortably, she hadn’t stood a chance once he turned on the formidable charm that had weakened the resolve of some of the most cynical juries in the South. Her mother had tried to warn her she was rushing into marriage. Even Josh had tried. But she’d been so sure Richard was her future.
After her graduation, they’d married in Atlanta, and she’d gone on to become the most promising of the young up-and-comers at Enterprise Consulting. Then Richard’s arguments that they should have a baby sooner rather than later had begun. And with the arrival of Becky, Richard’s passion for controlling Amy’s life had shifted gears.
He didn’t like the way it looked, having a nanny raising his daughter. Amy was too wrapped up in her career. Her place was at home, taking care of him and their child. It wasn’t as if they needed the money she made. She’d clearly had her priorities out of place, he’d told her.
And so, by the time Becky was in preschool, Amy’s career had morphed into little more than something to occupy herself while Becky was gone during the school day. Amy had passed up one career opportunity after another, even though she’d been more than qualified. She’d watched her peers’ careers eclipse her own, while she was relegated to doing busy work on projects she’d rather have been leading.
She’d consoled herself with her family. With her husband’s money and the financial security that had exceeded her dreams. Richard had assured her she had every reason to be happy. She was privileged. They were the envy of everyone they knew in Atlanta’s supersuccessful business community. No matter that she became more and more terrified of her husband with each passing day.
When she’d finally woken from the haze of her abusive marriage, she found she’d been living a thinly veiled nightmare that was going to get worse before it got better. Not only did she have to find the strength to stand up to a man she’d let trample her dignity and self-esteem for years, but her best shot at financial independence was finding a way to be taken seriously in the world of corporate business, where she hadn’t competed in years. And Amy hadn’t just done this to herself. She’d dragged her daughter through hell right along with her.
How could she have been so wrong about what life had in store for her? Every mistake she’d made had been entirely her fault, because she hadn’t wanted to see the truth in the people and things she’d built her happiness around.
Becky was right to blame her for being too much of a coward to leave Richard sooner. Amy had stayed too long. Her daughter had seen and heard too much.
“Amy!” The front door flew open. Her mom rushed out, arms wide. “You came. Why didn’t you let us know?”
Amy dropped everything a split second before she was engulfed in her mother’s sweet-scented hug. She couldn’t hold Gwen close enough.
“I wasn’t sure when I’d be able to get away,” she explained. “I had a lot to take care of this morning. As it is, I’m waiting on a conference call my assistant’s patching through to my cell.”
She straightened the collar of Gwen’s faded oxford shirt.
“This was Grandpa’s, wasn’t it?” She smiled at her mother’s shrug. “That’s one of the things I love about you, Mama. You never stop wearing hand-me-downs, no matter how many new outfits I buy you.”
“I adore my old things. They’re like memories I get to carry around with me all day.” Gwen lifted Amy’s garment bag and headed toward the house. “It might do you some good to look through your old closet. I bet there’re lots of treasures hiding in there.”
“Yeah. Everything will be just swell, as soon as I throw on a pair of my jeans from high school.” Her briefcase in hand, Amy followed in her mother’s wake. “Is Becky home?”
“Got off the bus about ten minutes ago.” Gwen held the door for Amy to enter in front of her.
“Did things go better today?” Amy took the garment bag back and set it aside.
“She’s in the kitchen having a snack. You should probably ask her yourself.”
Amy turned from studying how much the walls of the tiny living room needed fresh paint. “That bad?”
“About the same.” With another sigh, her mom led the way the few steps to the kitchen.
Becky was snacking on milk and a plate of Gwen’s freshly baked cookies.
She looked so grown-up. So beautiful. So much like her father, with her dark hair and eyes, and her olive complexion. Had she gotten taller in the few weeks Amy had been away? Amy thought back to her last overnight visit, a hurried Saturday full of trying to help Becky understand why things had to be this way for now. Amy couldn’t conjure up a clear picture of how her daughter had looked then. All she could remember was Becky’s tears and shouts, and her own fear that her best was never going to be good enough.
“Hey, baby.” She knelt beside Becky’s chair.
Vacant eyes lifted, then shifted back to the plate. Becky dunked a cookie into her glass.
“I missed you.” Amy ran her hand down her daughter’s delicate arm.
“Whatever.” Becky pulled away from her grasp.
Amy glanced over her shoulder. Gwen’s slight smile encouraged her to continue.
“Grandma’s been telling me a little about what’s going on at school. I thought maybe we could talk about it this weekend. Maybe come up with a few ideas for making all this work better for you while you’re here.”
“You’re staying the whole weekend?”
Their gazes connected
again. But the doubt and hesitation filling Becky’s brown eyes made Amy wish her daughter was still pretending to ignore her.
“I’m sorry I haven’t visited before now.” She tried a tentative hug. The moment was so awkward, Amy wanted to cry. “I know this has been hard for you. I’d have come home sooner if I could.”
“This isn’t home.” Becky fought free of Amy’s grasp, stumbling from the chair. She spun around, her arms crossed tightly across her neon-pink T-shirt. “Not that I have a home anymore, since you finally worked up the guts to throw Dad out. But I don’t care about the condo or the apartment. I just want out of here.”
“That’s what your mom wants, too.” Gwen stepped to her granddaughter’s side and hugged her shoulders.
Becky melted against her and frowned at Amy. “Whatever. Just let me go back to Atlanta with you.”
“I can’t right now.” Amy struggled to find a way to break through her daughter’s unhappiness. To find different words than the ones she’d already said a hundred times. She was secure in her daughter’s love. She and Becky would be okay once the dust settled. But that didn’t erase the pain her child was enduring now—pain Amy never should have let touch her baby’s life.
“We’ve talked about this,” she said. “I’ve barely moved everything into the new apartment. Our lives are still in boxes. And with this project at work taking up all my time, you’re better off here for a little while longer.”
“Work! That’s all you care about. You don’t want me around any more than Dad does.”
“That’s not true, honey.” Amy longed to be holding her daughter herself. At least Becky was taking some comfort from Gwen. “I care about you very much. I’m doing all this to get us back on track. All I want is for you to be happy.”
A Sweetbrook Family (You, Me & the Kids) Page 4