I had to agree. I no longer felt hollow and light-headed. In fact, I was feeling more energized than I had in weeks.
Mrs. Phelps got up and went to the counter between the kitchen and living room to get her purse. When she returned and handed me the money, I saw that she had given me one too many twenties. My usual rate for her smaller home was forty dollars a week and she'd given me sixty.
"Mrs. Phelps, you gave me an extra twenty," I said, holding it out to her.
She patted my hand but didn't take it. "Consider it a tip, dear."
"I can't take a fifty percent tip—" I started to say.
She just shook her head at me. "I'm not taking it back so don't bother arguing."
I knew by the firm set of her jaw that she meant it. This was another aspect of Mrs. Phelps that reminded me of my maternal grandmother. When she dug her heels in, that was it. There was no moving her from her position. Arguing was a waste of breath, not because she would argue back but because she would refuse to engage at all.
That was one thing that infuriated my mother about my grandmother when I was growing up. When she tried to get Grandma to go to the doctor or change her diet, my grandmother would just tell her that she was fine and that was that. If Mom kept arguing, Grandma would just walk away and pretend like she wasn't even speaking.
I'd never had the guts to do it to my mom, but I knew it was her weakness and I was saving it for a special occasion. Or when I developed a death wish.
After making a few incoherent noises, I finally settled on saying, "Thank you."
She smiled at me, bright and cheerful. "No, thank you, Lee. It's such a joy to have you around every week."
A twinge of guilt pierced me. I hated that she felt like she had to pay me to come see her. I'd known her my entire life and she'd recommended me for the job with Cam and Sierra.
Once again, my eyes turned damp.
Good grief! What was wrong with me today?
"I love coming to see you, too," I managed to say even though my throat suddenly felt too tight. "You know that, right?"
She patted my hand again. "Of course you do, darlin'."
I gripped her fingers lightly and kept her from pulling away. "You've always been here, Mrs. Phelps, and you've always helped me. Don't think for a minute that I don't truly and sincerely appreciate it. You've been like another grandmother to me."
"Oh, dammit, now look what you've done," she said, blinking rapidly as well. "If you make me cry and ruin my make-up before the ladies come over for book club, I will kick your behind."
I laughed and released her hand. "We can't have that, can we?"
I think I surprised both of us when I suddenly leaned forward and hugged her. "See you next week, Gammy Phelps."
She swatted me on the shoulder and squawked. "Impudent child!"
I laughed and hurried out the door before she could swat me again.
As I closed it behind me, I heard her sniffling and griping about ruining her make-up.
My eyes welled up all over again when I got into my car to drive home, but at least I didn't have make-up to worry about.
5
The penny dropped when the morning nausea hit me three days in a row.
As I knelt in front of the toilet, dry heaving, I tried to remember my last period. I usually kept track of my cycle so I wouldn't be caught unawares, but now that I was working two jobs and going to school, I'd let it slide.
Obviously, I shouldn't have.
Once the worst was over, I sat down on the cool tile floor and wiped my forehead with the cold rag I'd wet in the tub. I counted back and realized my last period had been a couple weeks before Cam's wedding. A little over two months ago.
I groaned and let my head fall back against the wall.
How could this have happened?
Yes, stupid question because I know exactly how it happened in a clinical sense, but we'd used protection! I liked to do my research so I knew condoms were nearly one hundred percent effective when used properly. I may not have used one before, but I did look up the do's and don'ts and J.J. and I had checked off every "do" without committing any "don'ts."
I took a deep breath and blew it out. "I may not be pregnant," I said.
Yep, I'd resorted to talking to myself.
It was one of my rare days off, thank goodness, so I would have the time to get a test, which would probably take a couple of hours.
Why would it take hours? There were a couple of reasons.
The first being that if I went to the local drug or grocery store, word would get back to my mom, or Cam, or, God help me, J.J., within a matter of hours. There would be talk, most of it idle gossip, but some of it would be malicious.
Which brought me to my second issue. If my reputation in town suffered, my house cleaning business would suffer as well. Several of my clients were elderly and some of them were very strait-laced to the point of being uptight. I could very well see a couple of them canceling my service because I was an unwed mother. Or at least believed to be unmarried and pregnant.
Yeah, I knew we were living in the twenty-first century, but narrow minds were often rigid.
And if I was pregnant, I would need every penny I could save between now and the birth.
My throat closed up and the nausea returned with full force when I realized what this meant for my ambitions to finish grad school. I knew several of my classmates had kids and worked, which was great. Some of them were even single parents. I knew I could handle that part of it.
But I would have to take on debt to finish. There was no way I could complete the program while pregnant and later, with a baby, without taking out loans because all my money would be going into medical care. And if there were any problems, my medical debt could quickly become large enough to bankrupt me.
I swallowed past the lump in my throat and forced myself to unclench my fists.
I didn't know for sure if I was pregnant. Step one would be to verify that. Then, I could focus on step two.
The part of me that needed to have a plan for everything howled in denial at ignoring step two. And three. And four and five and six.
But it was the only thing I could do if I wanted to remain calm until I knew the truth.
Once I knew, then I could freak out. After the freak-out, I would figure out my next step.
Two hours later, I was sitting in a stall in the CVS bathroom in Greenville. It was about an hour from Farley. I'd arrived thirty minutes ago, purchased the pregnancy test and a bottle of water, which I drank down as quickly as possible, and now I was about to take the test.
While I waited for the urge to pee to hit, I read the instructions over and over to make sure I knew exactly what to do.
It was the moment of truth. I took a deep breath, stood up, and pulled my pants down. Somehow, I managed to pee enough to activate the test. Once I finished up, I put the wrapper on the back of the toilet, laid the test on top, and glanced at my smart watch, a Christmas gift from my family last year. My father insisted on buying it for me because he thought I "needed it" and I refused to spend that amount of money on a watch when it would buy me at least two textbooks when I went back to school.
Now, I was glad for it because I wasn't going to leave the stall to wash my hands until the two minutes were up.