Love and Sorrow (Small Town Secrets Book 5) Read online

  “Can I play in my room now?”

  “Of course.”

  I let out a long breath, urging myself to get my head in the game as I got out a skillet with the intent of trying to salvage dinner before I chopped it to death.

  * * *

  My little family sat around the table, all three of us silent. Devon chewed noiselessly, savoring each bite, because he loved eating. I barely ate but I wasn’t talking, deep in thought. Sarah sat quietly as she had of late, barely picking at her food with her fork.

  But, after a while, the silence made me nervous, especially because my mind was going nuts. Fortunately, I knew a cure. “Tell me what happened at school today, Devon.”

  “We’re studying bugs.”

  Still a girl inside, I fought against grimacing. “What kind of bugs?”

  “All kinds. And our teacher lets kids bring them to school. So we have some praying mantises there. We named them Willie and Martha.”

  “Are you sure they’re female and male?”

  “No. But we’ll find out soon.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Mom!” Devon grinned at me. “You know why.”

  “No, I don’t. Tell me why.”

  He giggled. “Because if they make babies, the mommy will eat the daddy’s head after.”

  His revelation made me nearly choke on a mouthful of peas. “They teach you that?”

  “Yeah, mom. Remember? I told you we’re learning about bugs.”

  I reached for my glass of water. “It’s kind of gruesome, don’t you think?”

  “That’s nature for you, mom.”

  Ordinarily, at this natural break, I’d then ask Sarah what she’d done in school that day. Instead, I said, “Well, guys, just so you know, Sarah is going with you Friday night while I work.”

  “You mean to dad’s?”

  “Yes. She has a doctor’s appointment that day and—”

  Suddenly, Sarah looked up from her plate. “What?”

  “I had to change shifts so I could take you to your appointment.”

  “What about Noreen?”

  “Noreen’s busy that night.”

  “I could go to grandma’s.”

  “Grandma and grandpa are busy that night, too.”

  With more emotion than I’d seen from her in ages, Sarah shot up out of the chair, raising her voice. “I am not going to Mike’s.”

  “Sarah.”

  “I’m not going.”

  “Sarah, you don’t have a choice. I’m out of options.”

  “I don’t care. I’ll stay here by myself. I’m old enough to take care of myself.”

  “Honey, you’re eleven. I wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving you by yourself here late at night. If Noreen were going to be home, that might be okay.”

  Her chin jutted out. “I’m not going to Mike’s.”

  Devon finally spoke up, his eyes registering hurt. “What’s wrong with going to my dad’s?”

  Hoping to sweeten the pot, I added, “He was going to take you guys out to eat.”

  “Yeah, and we usually watch awesome action movies, too, Sarah.”

  “I’m not going.” Before I could stop her, Sarah stormed off to her room.

  Part of me was actually glad that Sarah had showed an emotion—any emotion—for a change, but her reaction seemed over the top. Why now, when I really needed all the pieces to stay in place, was she having such a problem staying at Mike’s? While she’d only visited him once since the divorce, she’d looked forward to that visit, had in fact enjoyed it, because Mike had spoiled her, too. Why was she opposed to it now?

  Because Devon looked like his feelings were hurt, I patted his hand. “It’s okay, bud. Sarah’s just having a hard time now.”

  “Do you think she’ll change her mind?”

  “I don’t know.” This certainly made things that much more difficult, especially after the day I’d had arranging everything. “I’ll talk to her later.”

  And we finished eating the same way we’d started: in silence.

  I had so many questions about my child’s violent outburst. Had Mike ever physically abused her in the past and I’d missed it? I remembered him giving her a verbal lashing once or twice before I’d left him—but had he done more?

  Was he someone else I’d need to keep an eye on?

  As I cleared the dishes off the table, I reminded Devon to take his bath. Then, after I had the dishes in the drainer, I went to Sarah’s room. This time I didn’t even knock before opening the door.

  Sarah was sitting on her bed, her back leaning against the headboard, the light off. I switched it on before sitting on the edge of the bed and looking at my daughter. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Talk about what?”

  “What happened in the kitchen.”

  “I just don’t want to go to Mike’s, okay?”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t know.”

  For a little bit, we didn’t say anything—but I had to ask. “Are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?” When Sarah didn’t answer, I pressed further. “Did Mike ever do anything to you?”

  “No. I just don’t want to go.”

  This was difficult and getting us nowhere. “Look, if I take you with me to work, can you just sit there and be quiet? Maybe read a book?”

  Sarah’s face softened at the suggestion. “Yes. I can be good and quiet.”

  “Then I guess that’s what we’ll do.” After a few seconds, I added, “Why don’t you go take your shower? I think I heard Devon leave the bathroom a few minutes ago.”

  Solemn again, she let out a long sigh. “Okay.” Then she got up, slouching as she’d been of late, shuffling out of her room and down the hall. I still sat on her bed, watching her enter the bathroom, closing the door behind her. As the click of the door echoed in my brain, I had but one question: where had I gone wrong as a mother?

  Chapter Five

  The next day, Noreen watched Sarah and picked Devon up after school while I worked. Before heading to class, I stopped by Noreen’s to chat with her and check in with the kids.

  Noreen’s own children, a son and daughter both in high school, lounged in the living room with my kiddos watching a sitcom rerun while Noreen and I sat at the kitchen table, both of us nursing a cup of coffee.

  “I’ll make sure Devon gets his homework done before dinner.”

  “Thanks, Noreen. He seems to focus better earlier in the evening.”

  Noreen, a forty-something divorcee who looked older than she was, had had a hard life, and it showed on the road map of her face. Her shoulder-length blonde hair showed no trace of gray, however, and her teeth looked perfect—almost too perfect. And, possibly due to her outgoing personality, Noreen always had a boyfriend. While they never stayed around long, she always had one, and she almost always managed to procure some sort of favor from each one before he moved on to greener pastures, whether that favor be repairing her fence or patching a hole in the drywall. Noreen’s current beau, for example, was teaching her son to drive.

  I gazed into my coffee cup as I took a sip, trying not to judge Noreen’s love life. Meanwhile, she lowered her voice, asking, “So what’s goin’ on with Sarah?”

  Although I didn’t quite trust the woman to keep the information to herself, she was a caregiver for my children and probably needed to know something—so I told her about the incident at school before revealing my suspicion that maybe something else had been going on that triggered Sarah’s new behaviors. That led to a question. “Have you noticed a change in her behavior over the last year?”

  “Honestly, hon, you’d get more info if you asked Jeff and Jackie. They spend more time with your kids than I do. I’m too busy cleanin’ or cookin’ while they’re here.” Or gossiping on the phone. No matter what I thought about Noreen personally, though, the woman provided a safe place for my kids to stay when I wasn’t home.

  That was all I needed to concern myself with.

  �
�Well, she refuses to go to her stepfather’s house tomorrow night.”

  “After what you told me about him, I wouldn’t want to go, either.”

  “But the last time she went there, she had a lot of fun.” I took a sip of my coffee. “When I talked to her dad, he said Sarah acted weird this summer, too.”

  “You said you was taking her to the doctor tomorrow, right?”

  “Yeah. We’re going to a therapist.”

  “Do ya think it’ll help?”

  “I’ve got to try something. What I’ve been doing obviously isn’t working.”

  “Guess not.” Noreen’s cell rang, and she glanced down at it, obviously torn between me and the caller.

  “Go ahead,” I said, taking it as my cue to leave.

  After draining the cup, I set it in the sink before waving to Noreen. Then I moved to the living room and kissed my kids on the foreheads, telling them I’d be by later to pick them up. Devon hugged me like there was no tomorrow and said he loved me. Sarah hugged me, too, but it felt more like she’d dropped herself into my arms than responded to the gesture. Then I said goodbye and darted out the door.

  Once I was on the road, I glanced at the clock in the van. The trip to Winchester Community College from here till I’d sit my butt in a classroom chair usually took about twenty minutes—which meant I’d probably spent more time having coffee with Noreen than I should have. After parking, I snagged my backpack from the passenger’s seat and darted up the slope toward the building. When I entered, I glanced at the clock in the hallway, refraining from grimacing. The time was 4:59—but if I was late, it was my own damn fault. Still, I had a chance. It wouldn’t have been so bad had the prof in my lit class not been such a fanatic about promptness.

  But maybe I could make it.

  I sprinted up the stairs and halfway down the empty hall on the second floor, entering a door on the left. The professor had just started lecturing as I walked through the door, so I hustled toward an empty seat near the middle of the room. I felt self-conscious, like everyone was staring at me as I dug my books and notebook out of the backpack, the noise seeming to echo throughout the room. But, of course, no one was ogling me. The prof was talking and the students were paying attention to his words. “The exam will be over everything we’ve studied so far this semester. I recommend you spend the next few days reviewing your notes and the stories we’ve read.” I had just flipped my notebook open and uncapped my pen when he looked straight at me and said, “Glad you could find time in your busy day to join us, Ms. Miller.”

  I gave him a weak smile. As much as I would have liked to explain my life to him, it would have sounded like one excuse after another, and he wouldn’t understand. Add to it, I’d stayed at Noreen’s too long. I just found it frustrating that he took it so goddamned personally that I was all of thirty seconds late, according to the clock in his room.

  Besides, why did it matter, considering he’d spend the entire class period droning on and on? He loved to hear himself talk, and a lot of the students would ask him stupid fucking questions, making me wonder if they’d ever read a story before. If they’d actually bothered to read the assignments, they’d know the answers. At least I’d do well on the upcoming exam. Frequently, I had to remind myself that this was just a stepping stone. Spending time in the classroom now would lead to a better job and a better life in the future.

  At the end of class, I gathered up my junk, shoving it all in my backpack so I could head to my next class. Fortunately, it was in the same building on the first floor. As I started to leave, though, the professor stopped me, calling my name, so I turned around. “Ms. Miller, is there something going on right now that is stopping you from fully participating?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You missed class Tuesday night and didn’t call to say why. That’s an unexcused absence. Then you were late to class today. And while in class, although I did see that you took notes, you didn’t participate in class discussion. You were here in body but not in mind.”

  I was, frankly, a little surprised. I hadn’t expected this man to actually come out and ask what was happening with me—and would he even care? “I’m having some problems with my daughter right now. It won’t interfere with my school work.”

  “I certainly hope not. Will you be ready for the test on Tuesday?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Very good.” I adjusted my backpack, hoping I didn’t look as impatient as I felt, even though I wanted to run outside and have a cigarette before my next class started—and the clock was ticking. “You show a lot of promise, Ms. Miller. I’d hate to see anything happen at this point.”

  Jesus. The man sounded like a mobster—and if I hadn’t been on the verge of laughing, I probably would have felt really uncomfortable. “It won’t. Thanks for asking.” As I started moving toward the door, I said, “See you next week.” Then I hurried out of the room, stopping downstairs in my other class long enough to drop off my backpack before retrieving a cigarette and lighter. Mindful of time, I rushed out the rear door near the classroom toward the designated smoking area. I was surrounded by a few other people smoking, chattering away, but I kept to myself, trying to get my mind ready for history.

  After this semester, I’d be close to having all my basic requirements out of the way, meaning I’d have to settle on a major course of study soon. I’d toyed with the idea of computers, nursing, and English, but none of them seemed to be a good fit for me. I was gravitating toward psychology, so maybe I’d take a basic psych class next semester and see if anything clicked—and if the class didn’t resonate, I’d probably just get a degree in business, because I could always find work with it. Whatever the case, I could always go to a university after graduating WCC and get an advanced degree if I wanted or needed to, no matter what my major. But I had to get this one under my belt first.

  Once I’d sucked down that cigarette, I headed to my next class and made it on time—and, half an hour later, I was leaving the building for the evening, breathing in the fresh, cool night air. I was relieved my history instructor hadn’t asked why I’d missed class on Tuesday like my literature professor had. In fact, I was pretty sure the history prof never noticed when students were there or not; as long as there were warm bodies in her classroom, she didn’t seem to care how many there actually were, and she’d stressed that we, as students, were responsible for our own learning.

  As I walked through the parking lot to my car, I couldn’t help but notice Justin’s truck across the way. I’d known he had class every Tuesday and Thursday night, too, but I rarely saw him—his class was in the building behind mine, for starters, even though sometimes he’d cut through my building to avoid a long walk around. Not hanging out was probably for the better, so we could both concentrate on our education. Unlike me, though, someone who was taking the slow route, Justin was finishing his last semester in auto mechanics and would be certified by the end of the year. The class he took this semester was combined with some sort of internship, so he was working for a mechanic in town who paid him a small wage while Justin learned to do the work in a practical setting and get credit for it.

  At least one of us had found their calling.

  As I pulled the van out of the parking lot, I spied him walking toward his truck—but he was not alone. A younger woman was walking with him, laughing and flirting. Why, suddenly, did I feel hot tears sting the corners of my eyes? I pressed the accelerator down harder so I could get the hell out of there fast. My children needed me.

  On the way home, I realized I kept speeding up, and I’d have to force myself to slow down again over and over. What the hell was I doing? I couldn’t afford a speeding ticket. So I lit a cigarette and sucked it down, trying to slow my heart rate to normal.

  And why exactly was I upset? Justin and I had never committed to one another. Seeing him with another girl shouldn’t have bothered me one bit. But, as rational as I tried to be, something gnawed at me. Was I distraught because Justi
n’s arm was around the girl’s waist? Was it because she looked younger?

  No. I already knew he saw other women. Maybe it was easier to know it in the abstract than see it in the flesh, but I had already processed it in my mind as an adult. Not only had I accepted it, I’d been relieved, knowing I didn’t have to be the center of Justin’s world, subject to his beck and call, mercy to his whims. I wasn’t responsible for his happiness. I could be independent, and we could enjoy each other’s company when we mutually agreed to. So then what the hell was my problem? Why did this bother me now when it never had before?

  Maybe it was because I was beginning to feel emotionally drawn thin. The week’s events were, perhaps, beginning to take a toll on my mental state.

  Stopping my van at a red light, I checked the clock. The numbers were blurry, so I wiped my eyes, settling on the reason why I was so upset. It wasn’t that Justin was with someone else, no matter how pretty or young the girl was. Justin wasn’t a guy I’d ever consider marrying. It was that—for now, at any rate—Justin was gone from my life because we’d agreed to cool things off for a bit. In the past when I’d seen Justin getting chummy with another female, I’d comforted myself with the reminder that he would be back in my bed within a few short days.

  So it was possessiveness. I had no choice but to admit it to myself. So did I care for Justin more than I’d wanted to admit, or was it the idea of Justin? As I finally pulled down the side street that would bring me home, I realized I didn’t know for certain which it was. It didn’t really matter, because I was a blubbering baby, miserable, no matter what the root cause was.

  Stupid.

  Pulling my car into the driveway, I wiped the tears from my cheeks. It was time to be strong again, put on the brave face I wore as a mask. I stepped out of the van, breathing in the cool air before walking across the street to Noreen’s house.

  Fortunately, no one there seemed to notice I’d had an emotional breakdown. Noreen mentioned that the kids had been well-behaved. Poor Devon, though. I had to roust him from sleep. Fortunately, Sarah was still awake. Once Devon’s eyes were open, we all walked across the street to our house, and I stopped at the van in the driveway long enough to retrieve my backpack before we headed inside. In less than fifteen minutes, the kids had brushed their teeth and settled into bed.