Sara stared at the cardboard box, and it stared right back as if taunting her. Now what, huh? What about me? All the other boxes were sealed and labeled with their destination – going to Whitfield or Dallas. This box would not be making the trip to either place.
Her first inclination was to simply pitch it in the dumpster and move on. But Todd had delivered a box of her belongings to her front door. He’d done it when he knew she’d be in Whitfield. Still, was it a kind gesture? Should she do the same? And risk running into his wife? She had no idea whether Alyssa had moved into his place or whether he’d moved into hers. For that matter, Sara had no idea whether Alyssa even knew that Sara existed. Part of her would love to shove the collection of Todd’s personal belongings at the woman. But the rational part of her said there was no point.
Maybe the best alternative was to leave the box outside the apartment door then text Todd to come and get it if he wanted the contents. Or leave it at the dumpster. She rather liked that idea – dump and dash.
She’d have to decide before her parents arrived, which could happen any minute. Even though she’d offered to hire a moving van, her dad insisted on doing it himself. Made more sense, she supposed. Everything she owned would easily fit in her car and her dad’s pickup. The big stuff and – yippee – her winter clothes would park in her parents’ basement until she found a place in Dallas. Until then, she was traveling lightly while she imposed on friends’ couches.
Sara pulled packing tape across the box flaps, then shoved it aside, and picked up the shopping bag from her dresser. She’d promised payment-by-beverage in exchange for her roommate’s help with packing and cleaning.
“Here you go,” she sang out, entering the kitchen and pulling a bottle of wine from the bag.
Natalie grinned. “Thanks. I might need to indulge this weekend.”
“There’s plenty for you and a guest.”
Snorting, Natalie dropped into a chair at the kitchen table. “Sure. One can dream.”
“Boulevard Pale Ale, hard cider and some chardonnay. And here’s a little something that you absolutely cannot share.” With a flourish, Sara slid a box of Christopher Elbow artisan chocolates across the table.
“Oh, my gosh!” Natalie gaped at her and pulled the chocolates close. “Not a problem. Mine. All mine.”
Sara laughed, but her throat tightened. This was it. She was really leaving. “Hey, thanks for everything,” she said softly. “I won’t have a roommate, but I hope I can find a neighbor just like you in Dallas.”
“Not going to happen, so you might as well stay put.”
A knock at the door reminded them it was too late for that. The wheels were in motion. Sara regretted that she couldn’t tell Natalie – or anyone in Kansas City – about her pregnancy. But it was the only way to ensure her secret was safe, that no one would slip up. That Todd would not find out.
As far as people there knew, Sara was leaving to join friends, and maybe a special friend, thanks to Claire’s thoughtful floral delivery. She almost chuckled at the memory. The stunning bouquet of fuchsia roses had been delivered with perfect timing – only hours after she’d announced her resignation. Confusion had been her first reaction to the man’s claim that the flowers were from someone in Dallas, but that had quickly changed to delight when she read the attached card. Her mother and friends were quite a team. Thankfully, Sara and Todd had been careful to keep things cool and undercover at the office, so few people even knew they’d gone out together.
On that positive note, Sara took a deep breath and opened the door, greeting her parents with a smile.
Two hours later, her bedroom was empty, and her car was stuffed. She gave Natalie a last goodbye-hug, dumped Todd’s package on the small, covered porch, and headed for her car. Her plan was to stay one night in Whitfield and then hit the road again – the road that would take her to a new destination and her new life. Somewhere beyond the yellow brick roads of Kansas.
* * *
A few miles outside of Whitfield Mary glanced at her watch again. The second session of the On Track seminar should be under way. She swallowed hard, debating whether to drive by the community center. Since most of the routine classes and events were held on Saturday mornings, the number of cars in the parking lot might give her an indication of the turn out. The Thursday evening session had been a dismal failure. According to Jane, only two people had attended – her son and one former Essex employee.
Mary had confirmed the numbers with Wendy from On Track who had tried to convince her that the low turnout may have simply been bad timing. Saturday might be more convenient for busy families. Mary wanted to believe it, but the knot in her stomach sent a different message.
She lifted her purse from the floor in front of her, about to fish for an aspirin. But then she remembered that Grant seemed to be charting her intake. She retrieved her nail file instead.
With another nervous glance at her watch, she touched Grant’s arm. “Hey, love, let’s swing by the community center before we head to the house.” She felt his eyes on her but refused to meet them.
“Mary. Are you sure? Maybe it’s best to let it go. Nothing you can do about it at this point, and Sara’s right behind us.”
“She knows the way,” Mary said dryly, pulling out her cell phone. “I’ll call her.”
Mary told Sara to go on in, then tucked the phone back in her purse. She looked over at Grant. “Just humor me on this, okay? I want to know.”
He made no comment or objection but passed by the turnoff to their house and continued toward downtown Whitfield. As they neared the community center, Mary leaned forward, eyes straining, fists clenched. “Slow down.”
Grant reduced his speed and turned the truck down Ash Street.
Mary gasped. Seriously? A total of three vehicles dotted the parking lot. She swiveled around. “Maybe the side–” She broke off, her face burning as the reality of what she saw hit her full force. The side street was clear. Almost no one had come. A free and beneficial service, and they hadn’t taken advantage of it. After all her efforts. She blinked back the tears that threatened.
“Mary-me,” Grant said softly.
He stopped the truck at the curb, and slid an arm around her shoulder, pulling her toward him. She let him hold her for a moment, but drew back, too frustrated to be consoled. Swiping at the tears that escaped, she flopped against her seat. “I can’t believe it. Why? Why would they turn their back on this opportunity? Just to spite me? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Can’t take it personally, darlin’. It’s not–”
“Oh, I think it is personal,” Mary interrupted. “But I don’t understand why.” In a shaky voice, she told him of her recent encounter with Regina Daniels. “I had no idea people felt that way, did you? Have I just been blind to it?”
She had her circle of friends, enjoyed her social life and activities, and had always considered herself to be genuinely liked. Did she really come off as controlling and snobbish? And did Regina Daniels really have enough pull to turn others against her? What about Jane? Surely Jane had as much influence as Regina, if not more. Mary’s breath caught as an unwelcome, unpleasant thought intruded. Had Jane not been completely straight with her?
“Mary, come on. You know there will always be people who are jealous of the success of others. It goes with the territory. Doesn’t matter how much you do or how nice you are. Some people will resent that. You don’t need to worry about what Regina Daniels or anyone else thinks. Hell with ’em. You did something worthwhile, and if they’re too stupid or stubborn to see it, it’s their tough luck.”
Mary sputtered a laugh. His words sounded exactly like something she’d say. He was right, of course. Basically, it was the ol’ ‘You can lead a horse to water’ adage personified. Against the headrest she closed her eyes. What a waste of money. What would she do with all of those freebies and flash drives? Maybe Wendy could return them.
How embarrassing. Mary’s face warmed again. She must look like a complete fool to the On Track director.
You don’t need to worry about what anyone thinks, she reminded herself. What she did need was that aspirin. And a heart-to-heart with Claire. Head pounding, she hopped out of the truck as soon as it came to a stop and hurried into the house.
She stopped short at the sight of Sara in the kitchen. Oh, man, schlepping boxes inside sounded like more effort than Mary could handle right now. “Hey, sweets. Can we wait a bit to start unloading? I want to lie down for a while. Give me an hour, okay?”
“Sure,” Sara said, her eyes tracking her mother’s already retreating figure. That was weird. At the sound of her father’s footsteps in the garage, Sara turned, surprised to find his face missing its normal easy smile.
“What’s the matter with Mom?” Sara hadn’t missed the tired, pained look on her mother’s face.
His brows rose. “What do you mean?”
“She seemed upset. Went to lie down.” She jerked a thumb toward the hallway.
A heavy sigh escaped her dad’s lips before he answered. “Let’s give her some time. We can get started on your things.”
“Okay.” Sara set down the can of sparkling water she’d just opened wondering what had happened. Oh. Oh, no. As realization dawned, her stomach clenched. Her parents had had a fight. And she’d bet it was her fault.
That’s why they’d needed a “quick detour” before coming home. They’d been arguing and needed to cool down before facing her. That’s why her mother had practically sprinted toward her bedroom. Sara felt physically ill. The last thing she wanted was for her baby to be a wedge between her parents. She could probably count on one hand the number of times she’d witnessed her parents at odds with each other.
“You get the little things,” he told her brusquely. “I’ll take care of everything else.”
With tears threatening, Sara slipped past her dad and headed for her car. Most of the boxes there could stay. She lifted her small overnight bag from the back seat, then sank down in its place, wishing she’d gone on to Dallas without stopping in Whitfield. How could she convince her parents that she was going to be fine? That they didn’t need to get uptight – with her or each other – over her situation? She could handle it.
What was the big hang-up, anyway? Did they think she wasn’t smart enough to raise a child? Annie had always been known as the smart one. The over-achiever. Or were they embarrassed that she wasn’t married? Her dad could be, she supposed. That didn’t sound like her mom, though. Maybe that’s what caused the argument. Or it could be they were afraid they’d have to support her forever. Of course, Annie had a great job as an attorney. Plus, she was marrying Mr. Perfect, an engineer who apparently already pulled down a six-figure income. At least they wouldn’t have to worry about Annie.
And her younger brother was well on his way to becoming Doctor Jason Logan. So maybe she was the failure, the place where they’d gone wrong. The middle child. Different from the others. The problem child…who couldn’t possibly be ready to raise her own child.
But they were wrong. In the two weeks since she’d given notice at work she’d spent almost every evening online, reading about pregnancy and babies. She’d read inspirational stories about single moms and motherhood. Everything she read made her more sure, more determined. She was looking forward to being a mother, to bringing a tiny creature into the world, nurturing it, and sharing an amazing bond. This little baby would be her family. Her legacy to the world. And her joy, she was sure of that. She was ready to feel that depth of love and emotion.
The clang of the tailgate lowering on her dad’s pickup brought her back to the present, and she realized it had turned chilly, and her exposed arms were sprinkled with goose bumps. The sun had disappeared behind flat gray clouds. Sara climbed out of the car with her bag and made for the house.
How quickly the day had changed. Just like her life. She hadn’t meant to get pregnant. She hadn’t planned to be a single mom. But that’s what kept things interesting. How boring life would be if every detail was planned out and went according to that plan with no surprises. That was not the life for her. Sara smiled up at the darkening clouds. Behind every storm cloud was a silver lining – and she’d found hers. Her independence. Her new adventure. Her child.
“Pop your trunk when you come back,” her dad hollered as she wandered past.
“Sure,” Sara said absently.
At the door, Sara stopped, and considered turning back and confronting her dad. But her dad was notoriously non-confrontational. No matter what, he’d put on a good face. A wave of guilt rolled over her. Was her mother taking the brunt of Dad’s ire? He rarely even raised his voice, especially at her mother. He was too much of a gentleman for that. But he did have a quiet way of making his disappointment known.
The thing was, it’d eat at her if she didn’t know.
“Hey, Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Is everything all right? I mean, with you and Mom?”
He turned and stared. “What?”
She blew out a deep breath. “Did you guys have a fight because of me? Because of the baby?”
With a shake of his head, her dad moved toward her. “Sarie, let me tell you something. Your mom and I are fine. We’ve got a lot on our minds, but believe it or not, some of it has nothing to do with you, or any of you kids.”
As tears filled her eyes, Sara swiped them away. She was obviously becoming too emotional. But what else was going on to upset her mother? His response didn’t answer that question.
He slid an arm across her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. “Come on. You don’t need to start imagining new problems. Let’s get this job done, okay?”
“Okay.” Got it. They had their own lives. She knew that. Her mother had always been the queen of multi-tasking. Always involved, always busy. All the more reason to go to Dallas and not impose on her parents any more than necessary.
After three more trips up the stairs, Sara surveyed the mess of boxes and bags in her room – and realized it’d been more than an hour since her mother had bailed on unloading. Way more.
Quietly, Sara tiptoed down the hallway toward her parents’ bedroom, stopping when she heard her mother’s voice.
“No worries, honey, everything is in great shape.”
Sounded like her mom was talking to Annie.
“Oh, I think we’ll have dinner here tonight. I’ve got a pork roast in the crock pot.”
Ah-ha. That’s what smelled so good coming from the kitchen. That sounded–
“Sara’s here. I’ll ask her, but she has a long drive ahead of her tomorrow.”
“I know. It’s a long way. I wish she’d look at Paxton or Wichita.”
“Well, yes, but–”
Sara listened harder. She wouldn’t normally eavesdrop on her mother, but it was obvious the conversation had turned to her. Too bad she couldn’t hear the other side as well.
“Oh, Annie. Of course, she wasn’t fired. Why would you think that?”
Fired? Fired! That’s what Annie thought? Sara groaned inside. Figured. She took a step closer.
“Yes, it was sudden, but I don’t think it was anything that drastic. Maybe she was tired of a person or project, and something happened to tip the scales. She’s been there three years. Maybe it’s simply time to move on. Anyway, she has friends in Dallas.”
At least her mother was covering for her.
“All right. Well–”
Uh-oh. Her mother’s voice took on that I’m-ready-to-wrap-this-up tone. As quietly as she could go, Sara hurried back down the hallway. In the kitchen, she turned when she heard her mother’s steps on the hardwood.
“Hey, I was about to come check on you,” Sara said. “You feel–”
“Where’s Dad?”
Sara shrugged. “Not sure.” She reached into the refrigerator and grabbed a Diet Coke, then caught herself. Too much caffeine. Replacing it, she took a Sprite instead.
“Has he started unloading?” her mother asked.
“We’re done.”
Her mother’s eyes widened. “All done already? I was going to– You didn’t lift anything heavy, did you?”
Sara resisted rolling her eyes. If she heard one more comment that proved how stupid everyone thought she was, she’d scream. “Of course not.” Toggling between irritation and concern for her mother Sara struggled for a normal tone. “That smells good,” she said, nodding toward the counter and deliberately changing the subject. So far, she’d had some morning queasiness, but no particular foods turned her stomach.
“Oh, I just talked to Annie. She asked if we want to join her and Blake for dinner.”
“Isn’t this dinner?” Sara gestured toward the steaming crockpot.
“Well, it can be. But doesn’t have to be. It’s pulled pork. Does that sound good?”
“Sounds great. There’s no sense driving to Paxton when you already have this. Besides, the less time I have to spend pretending around Annie, the better. I’ll see her soon, you know.”
Her mother gave a wan smile. “True. Why don’t you text her back for me?”
Sara pulled her phone out of her pocket and sent her sister a brief message while her mother poked at the meat inside the cooker.
“I might need to get all of your crockpot recipes,” Sara said, thinking out loud. It might be a convenient way to prepare meals-for-one while she was dealing with a demanding newborn.
“Sure. I bet I have extra cards, or you can type them into your computer.” She turned. “Do you have a crockpot?”
Oh. Small problem. She didn’t. “No, but–”
“What you need is a bridal shower. That’s where–”
Sara stared at her mother. “Well, I don’t happen to have any of those scheduled right now,” Sara told her, sarcasm creeping into her voice. Get over it, she thought.
Slumping against the counter, her mother held up a hand. “I’m sorry. That– that was a brain cramp.” She rubbed her temples. “Let’s run down to the hardware store and get you one.” Before Sara could even think, her mother had grabbed her purse, and Sara’s arm. Then she stopped, causing Sara to nearly stumble.
“What?”
Her mother glanced at her watch. “Rats. They close in a few minutes. Maybe tomorr–” She let out a heavy sigh. “They aren’t open on Sundays.”
“Mom, it’s not a big deal. I’m sure I can manage to get my own crockpot. And I bet they sell them in Dallas.”
Her mother waved a hand. “Oh, don’t bother. You can take one of mine.”
“What? Mom, come on. I’m not taking your things.” After all, she’d been living on her own for almost four years and had enough essentials to get by.
“Sarie, I’ve got three, for cryin’ out loud.” She knelt in front of the cupboards and began pushing things around. “Here we go. This one is probably the right size.”
She pulled it out and set it on the island. “There. Take it.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.”
“Of course.”
“I was thinking it might be a good way to make several meals at once. Especially when I’m rushing from work to day care then home. It might simplify things.”
“Definitely,” her mother agreed. “That’s a smart way to do it.”
Ha! Imagine that. In her head, Sara patted herself on the back. Score one for her. Okay, so it was a small victory about her ability to feed herself, but she felt ridiculously pleased at her mother’s comment. Many other smart moves to come. She’d just have to prove it.