“Go. You’re going to make my whole house smell, and it’ll take a week before I can get the stench out.”
I laughed and bent to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be ten minutes.”
Chapter 16
Delilah
Grease popped from the pan of sizzling chopped bacon. A low, sultry country voice sang through the speakers of the radio, barely heard over the sounds of a busy kitchen prepping for the dinner service. My phone burned a hole in my pocket with the message I’d read over and over again but had yet to reply to.
Today was Mom’s day to pick up Tuck from school, and within a few minutes of pick-up time, she’d sent the message. I could tell from the carefully chosen words she’d been hesitant to ask, but she’d done it anyway. It shouldn’t have surprised me. Tuck had a busier social calendar than I’d ever had. Since the day at the arcade, I’d kept him close and had made up excuse after excuse to keep him home instead of going to his friends’ houses, the park, and the movies.
I didn’t want Shayla to pop up and con one of his friends’ families into thinking she had any rights to him. My knife clattered as I dropped it next to the cutting board. Sweat beaded along my brow, and my heart thundered a furious beat.
How many more excuses could I make up to keep Tuck near me and in my line of sight before he suspected something? He wanted to spend the night at his friend Calvin’s house tonight. If I said no, I knew he would start asking questions. He was smart and inquisitive, and I hardly ever denied him an opportunity to socialize. My phone vibrated in my pocket and I took it out. It was Mom. Again.
Mom: Instead of spending the night at Calvin’s, maybe the boys can stay with us? I’ll bribe him with candied apples. Carol said she was bringing a few crates’ worth. Save a few for us.
The tension that’d been stiffening my shoulders evaporated. My mom was a true gift. She had everyone’s back. I didn’t grow up here, but as soon as Mom had arrived in town, she’d quickly become known as the person to call. She could arrange a dinner party at the drop of a hat, lend an ear to someone in need, and change the oil in a car in just a few hours. I’m not even joking. She’d done it. She was Superwoman.
I’m not sure I could’ve survived the first few years of Tuck’s life without her. Since he was a baby, I’d leaned on my mom. She took the reins every time I was at a breaking point, but she never made me feel like I couldn’t do it. If the world had a few more Gayle Morelands, it would be a better place.
I tapped out a quick reply and tucked my phone away again. The back kitchen entrance popped open as I scrubbed my hands before returning to prepping the dinner menu. Fridays were always crazy. A live band played on the back lawn next to the faux wood dance floor we’d laid out underneath the fairy lights. The inn’s restaurant had become one of the hot spots in town for a date, family celebration, or just a good time.
On top of the crazy rush, every other Friday was a delivery day for my clients that I meal prepped for. Tonight I had to deliver to four clients. Usually, I could hire a driver, but both girls I trusted with the job were prepping for their SATs tomorrow morning. That meant I had to leave my kitchen staff after prep.
Wind gusted through one of the back doors, which was propped open by a gnome dressed in a chef’s outfit. When my parents had purchased this property, my mom had gone crazy with kitschy trinkets, including a family of gnomes dressed for different jobs. The chef gnome’s long salt-and-pepper beard covered his face except for a bulbous nose. He wore a “kiss the chef” hat, and his long, skinny legs were dressed in black and white checkered pants. He bounced around the kitchen, held open doors, and had become something of a good luck charm. The staff poked his nose before every shift.
Carol, a sweet woman Mom had taken under her wing, came through the back door. Her arms were weighed down by two wooden crates stuffed to the brim with luscious apples.
“Those are gorgeous.” I stepped forward and took the crates from Carol’s arms. She gave me a smile, and while it was warmer than the first time I’d met her, I could still see the pain and loneliness behind her eyes. I didn’t know her story and I never pried.
The Perry farm down the road had hired her a few days a week to help out with various chores, and she often brought over fruits and vegetables from their property. Sometimes she helped in my kitchen, and other times she dropped the food on the counter and ushered herself through the door as quickly as she’d come in.
I snagged a few of the apples from the top and placed them next to the backsplash, ready for whenever Mom came by to grab them. I picked up another apple and brought it to my nose and inhaled the sweet scent. “These will be great in pie, don’t you think?”
“Sure will.” Carol picked up one of the apples to smell. “I could peel some if you want.”
“That would be great.” I rubbed her shoulder with my free hand. She leaned into the touch slightly, and a ghost of a smile tipped up the edges of her mouth.
“How’s Tucker?”
My chest squeezed with anxiety. I felt as if the blade of a guillotine was hanging above my head, following me with each movement, ready to end my life as I knew it at any moment. The force of the smile I plastered on my face hurt my cheeks.
“He’s great. If you stay for dinner, which Mom would love, you’ll see him running around. He’s having a friend over tonight.”
“Maybe…maybe I will stay for dinner.”
I knocked my shoulder into hers as I watched her wash her hands. “That would be great. We love having you here.”
“If you ever need someone to watch Tuck, I’d be happy to. I have a lot of free time.” She grabbed a knife from the block and began peeling. I watched the long, curled ribbon of apple flesh fall. “You know we have a peeler?”
“I like this better. It’s soothing, don’t you think?”
“Carol, you just may take the spot as my favorite person. First, you offer to watch Tuck if I ever need it, and now you find peace when peeling apples.”
Carol chuckled and picked up the next apple. “I’ll leave you to it,” I said before walking back to my station. On a night like this one, every minute counted.
Chapter 17
Gunner
Throughout the drive home I glanced at Mom every ten seconds. I couldn’t stop myself. I wasn’t sure if it was real or if I simply imagined that she looked worse after the chemo. It was as if those few hours had taken even more years off her life, taken pounds from her body, and added gray to her hair. I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my fingers were numb from lack of blood flow by the time we pulled up to her house.
I threw open the door, scrambled out without closing it, and jogged around the car to help her out of the passenger’s seat. I grabbed her bag, which carried enough magazines for a month, from her lap and hooked it over my shoulder before reaching in to help her stand.
She slapped my hands away. “Gunner, honey. I’m okay. I can get out of the car by myself.”
“I want to help.”
I heard the frantic sound of my own voice in my ears. Her eyes met mine, and even though I towered over her at six-foot-five, all of a sudden, I felt like I was a second-grade kid, with skinned knees and elbows from trying to slide to third base on rough, gravelly dirt. Second or third grade was the last time I’d looked up at her before I surpassed her in height, and right in this moment, I was that kid again. She’d taken care of every scrape and broken bone, and she’d sat at my side as they peeled the burned skin from my body. She sat there, ignoring the smell of her son’s burned flesh. She sat there, even though I was being ravaged on the inside and outside with pain.