Love and Sorrow (Small Town Secrets Book 5) Page 13

  Then he said, “Three years? Really?”

  “I’d say it was worth the wait.”

  “Hmm. Then you’re probably overdue for one more time. You up for it?”

  Holy shit. This man was a beast. “The question is are you?”

  “I’m up for anything, anytime, sweetheart.”

  That third time? We didn’t fuck like animals trying like hell to procreate. That time, he was sweet and gentle, bringing on the slowest, longest orgasm—and then, to top it off, he spent the night lying next to me, holding me close until my stupid alarm jolted me out of bed. And when I turned to see him still there, I grinned like I was a girl who’d just realized she loved the guy she’d lost her virginity to. Frankly, I was shocked that he was still there.

  We continued having sex on a weekly basis, eventually having planned nights together, arranged around both our schedules. There were also nights I learned not to call, particularly Friday and Saturday, because, well…because Justin liked the company of women. But he’d never told me I couldn’t call—I just tried not to. I also knew that he didn’t divulge to his dates that he and I had an arrangement and, on the rare occasions when he struck out, he could always call. It was perfect.

  Or so I’d thought. Now I wasn’t so sure. While we’d never laid out rules or limits, I’d encouraged his behavior. At first, I was positive I wouldn’t fall for him. Sure, he was good looking, charming, and fun, but I still felt the sting of an abusive relationship as well as the pain of being dumped by my first real love, just before I’d found out I was carrying his baby. The last thing I fucking needed was a man.

  But now, looking back, I could see exactly how things had progressed. In February, I’d gotten on the patch for birth control. Because we were having sex regularly, I wanted the extra protection. I didn’t worry about STDs because Justin was religious using protection—and, as far as I knew, I was his only regular partner.

  Emotions, though, made me stupid.

  One night, I was licking his cock and he told me he wanted to be inside me. He was even reaching for a condom when I whispered, “Let’s not, okay?”

  “Not use a rubber? You crazy? You wanna get pregnant?”

  “Not really. But that’s taken care of.”

  “You’re on birth control?”

  “Yeah. And I don’t have any diseases or anything I could give you.”

  “I’m safe, too, sugar. But that’s not a good idea.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I want to feel the real you inside me, not some piece of latex holding you back.”

  I told myself the sex was better without it. It was more passioned, our emotions heightened. I felt happier. How could that have been?

  And now I knew all of that, all that bullshit, was a bad move on my part. Everything I’d done had made me fall hard for him.

  The misery I felt was all my fault. I’d said I didn’t want anything serious and had been an easy lay for him anytime he wanted. I had been the one intensifying the relationship while allowing the cuffs on exclusivity or commitment. What an idiot I’d been, because somewhere along the way, I’d started to care. And it wasn’t like there hadn’t been warning signs. Once or twice, I’d started to feel jealous of someone else in his life, and then I’d reminded myself of our agreement and backed off, actually telling myself I was happy that way. Besides, he never stayed with any of the other women. And why would I want to feel obligated to him? Not that I had any other men I was interested in, but I didn’t want a committed relationship again—and that was why I kept telling myself I was content with what Justin and I had. I needed nothing more.

  As I finally started drifting off sometime after three in the morning, I concluded that maybe I, too, needed therapy.

  * * *

  The next morning, exhausted and grateful to the soul who’d thought eons ago to create concealer, I walked into the middle school, ready for coffee and a serious discussion about my daughter with the counselor. As I entered Kevin Campbell’s office, he looked up from his computer screen just as he had earlier that week. “Hi, Randi. I’m so glad we could do this.”

  “Me, too.”

  Standing, he removed his glasses, setting them on his desk. “Are you ready?”

  “Sure.”

  Once we were in the hallway, he said, “Just give me a second. I need to pop in the office and let them know I’ll be gone for a while.” In mere seconds, he returned and held one of the doors exiting the building open for me. “We can take my car,” he offered and I accepted, and he drove through town, passing one small coffee shop after another. Of course, it was just as well. I didn’t know that I could afford Starbucks or any of the local shops with the more expensive stuff that I didn’t drink anyway.

  As he made his way through the few traffic lights in town and chatted about the weather, I remembered that I’d been thinking the other day that he was kind of good looking—and that, of course, led me to glance at his left hand on the steering wheel. No wedding ring. I’d been getting the vague notion that he was interested—but that was probably all in my fucked-up head. I sensed that I needed to find a way to transition myself away from Justin, and so, of course, I was grasping at straws. Not that I wanted or needed anything serious. Bad enough that I’d been getting there with Justin. Jesus.

  Besides, Randi, you’re here to talk about your kid. Don’t fucking forget it.

  Soon, he parked at a diner that I thought I’d maybe been to once as a child near the outskirts of town. As we got out of his car and headed inside, I pulled my jacket closer, feeling the chill created by overcast skies, a premonition of what autumn had in store for us. Following him to a small booth in the back, I took the menu he handed to me as he said, “No mocha lattes here. Sorry about that—but it’s a lot quieter than the Coffee Stop, and Starbucks has been ridiculously crowded since it opened.”

  “That’s okay. I’m not much for fancy coffee. I figure if it tastes like cereal, they’re doing it wrong.”

  He laughed at my lame joke—a little too hard.

  Our waitress was a thin, tall young lady with blue pigtails. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite customer.” The enthusiasm in her voice made me actually believe it.

  Kevin said, “Hi there, Daisy. This is my friend Randi, and I think we’re just going to have two cups of freshly brewed coffee.” Then he looked at me. “Do you want decaf? And I should probably ask if you’re hungry.”

  “No. Coffee’s fine. Fully leaded, please.”

  He laughed again as Daisy said, “You got it, hon. Be right back.” She winked at me and then grinned at Kevin before scooting off like the building was on fire.

  “That’s what I love about this place. Personal service.” When I nodded, he said, “You sure you’re not hungry?”

  “Yes. Thanks, though.”

  And Daisy was quick as a flash, returning with a carafe of coffee, steam escaping out the top. We flipped over the mugs on the table as she set a bowl of single-serve creamer containers and began filling up our cups. “Give me a holler if you need anything else.”

  Kevin said, “This time of morning is pretty quiet.”

  I glanced around the diner and wondered if they were ever busy. Right now, there was a guy up at the front on a barstool eating something and reading the paper and there were three men who looked like local farmers drinking coffee and jabbering around a table. Other than that, the huge place was empty.

  “That’s what we were looking for, right?” I picked up a creamer and opened it, pouring the white liquid into my coffee.

  “Exactly. So did you want to update me about Sarah?” He took a sip from his mug and settled in, waiting for me to answer.

  As I stirred my coffee, I said, “Well, not a whole lot has happened with the psychologist yet, but she seems to think that something pretty serious is going on with Sarah.”

  “Did she indicate what it could be?”

  “No. But she also said she thought Sa
rah wasn’t comfortable talking with me around. I believe she said Sarah was holding back. So she’s spending a few sessions with me in the room, and once Sarah seems comfortable with her, I’ll be moved to the waiting room.”

  “Did she say what kind of therapy she plans to use?”

  Jesus. Once more I felt like the shittiest mother, because that was probably something I should have known. “I can’t remember what she said. There are different things she can do?”

  “Well, yeah, actually there’s a whole field of different things out there. But I guess it would depend on what she thinks Sarah has.”

  “Has? Do you think she has something?”

  Letting go of his mug, Kevin shrugged. “I’m no psychologist—but anything is possible. Lots of disorders manifest themselves when kids start to go through puberty. For instance, some girls develop eating disorders at this age—and, pretty often, schizophrenia will rear its ugly head during adolescence. But there are also things like bipolar and obsessive-compulsive disorder. A lot of these things can develop anytime, but we see a lot of them emerge at this age as the brain continues developing.”

  Horrified, I set my cup down. How the fuck could I miss shit like that? “Oh, God.”

  “You can see why I’m glad you’re taking her to a psychologist. They’re experts, trained to discover what’s happening with your child. Has she ordered a CT scan yet?”

  “No. Why?”

  “A lot of these disorders are easier to diagnose when the therapist can look at a picture of the brain. I can tell you, though, I’m pretty sure Sarah doesn’t have anything like ADHD going on.”

  “That much I know. She’s been depressed and withdrawn, and that’s been going on for a while. And now she’s lashing out at everyone.”

  After taking a sip of his coffee, he set the cup back down. “Lashing out? How?”

  “There are a lot of little things. I think I told you how, on Sunday, she was with my parents. They’d gone to church, and Sarah started cursing and yelling that she didn’t believe in God.”

  “Hmm…sounds almost like Tourette’s. Anyone else in your family have it?”

  Frowning, I shook my head. All this meeting was doing was scaring the shit out of me. I’d heard about a lot of the mental problems Kevin was talking about, but I didn’t know enough to understand what they were, much less begin to diagnose if that was what was going on with my daughter. I was beginning to sense that maybe he was trying to impress me—but I was going to reserve judgment. “I guess for now I’ve just got to hang in there. Has she done anything else at school this week so far?”

  “No. She’s been quiet and morose, but she hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  “Good. That’s a relief. Is Sarah safe in school right now?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Is there a chance that she might be expelled?”

  “I don’t think so. Not right now, anyway. Mr. Cooper is usually overly indulgent with the kids. He wants them all to succeed, so he gives them plenty of chances—some of them more than he should. I think Sarah will be okay, especially if she continues to behave the way she has so far since returning. Low-key.”

  “The problem is I don’t know what sets off these moods—I don’t know what makes her behavior escalate. If I did, there would maybe be something I could do to help.”

  “Continue to be a loving parent. Keep talking to her and listening. Be there. That’s the most important, best thing you can do. And don’t worry. The psychologist will discover the cause soon enough. Once she does, she can get Sarah on some medication that will help her control her mood swings.”

  “Medication? Do you think it’s that serious?”

  “Like I said, Randi, I really don’t know what the cause is. All I know is that if she does have a serious disorder, chances are she’ll have to take something to help her.”

  The more this man talked, the more concerned I was becoming—not that I hadn’t been before, but this conversation was doing nothing but making me feel worse. “Have you dealt with many kids like Sarah before?”

  “I’ve seen a variety of kids with various ailments. I don’t know that any child I’ve dealt with has ever set a fire in the bathroom before, but who knows what that means? We just have to help her through this until the psychologist can figure out what it is. Would you like for me to call her into my office and ask her if there’s something we can do at the school to help her progress?”

  “Sure. I guess that would be fine.”

  “I’d be happy to do it—only with your permission, though. I think if you’re working on it on your end and we’re doing our part at the school, Sarah is bound to get better with all the support and caring.”

  How much support would she actually get at the school? I had my doubts, but at least Kevin seemed genuine and concerned. Saying nothing, I merely nodded before sipping at my coffee.

  Finally, he broke the silence. “Did I make you nervous talking about what could be going on with Sarah?”

  “A little.”

  “I’m sorry. Honesty is one of my weak points, I’m afraid.”

  “No. I appreciate it. Really.”

  Then he looked down, making me think he appeared to be feeling a little guilty, like he’d said too much. “Well, guess I’d better get back to work.” Waving his hand, he caught the blue-haired waitress’ attention. “Daisy, can we get our check?”

  In a flash, she strode across the room toward our booth, small piece of paper in hand. “Sure, hon.”

  I said, “I can pay for mine.”

  “No. My treat. You’ve got enough to worry about.”

  What else could I do but thank him?

  The drive back was quiet once more, as he hummed along to the CD in his car. When we got back to the school, he said, “Please feel free to call anytime. I’m happy to offer advice or even just listen if you need a sympathetic ear.”

  “Thanks. It’s been pretty rough, I have to admit.”

  “I’m sure it has.”

  As we got out of the car, I smiled slightly and waved, getting ready to walk away. “Thanks again.”

  “Uh, Randi?”

  “Yeah?”

  Walking around the car, he approached me again without getting too close. “Um, this is probably inappropriate, but would you be interested in going out to dinner sometime?”

  That affirmed that I’d been correct earlier. I’d already been ready to dismiss him, having decided we had little in common—but, for some reason, I instead said, “Sure.”

  “Okay. Great. I, uh, I have your number, so I’ll give you a call sometime.”

  “Yeah. I guess you do.”

  He reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and handing me a stiff piece of paper. “My card if you’d ever like to call me.”

  “Great.” I was pretty sure he’d already given me one last week, but I had no idea where I’d put it. We exchanged awkward goodbyes until I got in the van. Once there, I laid his business card on the passenger seat. Maybe I’d call, but I didn’t know if it was a good idea.

  If I thought it would somehow help my daughter, I’d do it in a second, no questions asked.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Continuing my clusterfuck of a week, Thursday was another WTF day. Sarah’s psychologist appointment made me feel like we were going in circles—until, at the end, Rebecca announced that she and Sarah would begin meeting alone. First, though, she asked Sarah if she would be okay with it. Of course, my daughter replied, “I guess.”

  Then, that night in my history class, I found out too late that I’d read the wrong assignment, so I was confused throughout the entire lecture.

  And then, of course, Justin. I was actually hoping to avoid him, especially having another guy express interest in me the day before, but I should have known I’d run into him.

  It seemed like we were linked somehow.

  As I pushed on the bar across the door to open it and go outside, I felt someone’s hands on both sides of my
waist, tickling me through my jacket. I assumed it was Justin but, if it wasn’t, I was going to slap whoever the hell it was. Turning around, the door half open, I felt relief at seeing the man I’d fallen for completely.

  “Rascal.”

  “Justin, what’s up?”

  “Just finished class. You, too?”

  “Yep.” Hoping he’d take the hint, I started heading toward the parking lot. “Gotta get home.”

  “Yeah. Me, too. Busy day tomorrow.”

  “Yeah? What’s going on?”

  “Replacing an engine. I’ve only done it once before.”

  “I’m sure you’ll do fine. Don’t psyche yourself out.”

  “I’m not. I just know it’s gonna be tough. ‘Time is of the essence,’ according to Fazzio, my boss, so I just gotta work on getting faster every time I do one.” Although I was walking fast, Justin had no problems keeping pace with me. “How’s the kiddo?”

  “Sarah? Same old, same old.”

  “Shrink doing any good?”

  “I have no idea. I hope so. I’ll be out of the room next week, just the psychologist and Sarah in there, so I suppose we’re making some progress.”

  “I know it’s only been a few days, Rascal, but I can’t stand not seeing you.”

  “Please understand, Justin.”

  “I do.” Draping an arm over my shoulders, he pulled me close as we continued walking. “Believe me. But I had a thought. You and me, we’re both here on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so why can’t we visit for a little while every night before you go?”

  “I guess that’s okay. I just can’t be too long.”

  “I know. So I’ll have one cigarette with you and off you go.” As I unlocked the door to the van, he asked, “Are you okay with that?”

  “Sure.” I pressed the button on the inside of the door to unlock the remaining ones, and Justin opened the one on the passenger side.

  “So what else is bugging you?”

  Getting in, I tossed my backpack to the floor behind my seat. “What do you mean?”

  “You act like you’re upset with me. Have I been the cause of Sarah’s problems, and you’re just not telling me?”