On Monday, after Maddox had read the profiles of the students he’d likely be taking on in August, he’d spent the afternoon making staffing decisions and going over his fall budget, seeing if there was any way to nip a bit here or there to give more somewhere else. Aiyana cared more about girls who needed a good place to live than she did about getting paid, so he knew he’d face more financial constraints here than he would at many other jobs. But she did what she did for the right reasons, and that was what made New Horizons so special, why he wanted to be involved. He’d just have to overcome the challenges her generosity created by helping her run fund-raisers, contact alumni who might be willing to contribute and/or cultivate relationships with those wealthy enough to help. The state paid for the students it sent but at a significantly reduced rate—something Aiyana had negotiated to make it more viable for them. She said she hesitated to ask for too much lest New Horizons never receive the students who needed them most—those who’d been bounced around the foster care system or even the court system.
He’d managed to get a few things done today, but he wasn’t at his most productive. He hadn’t been able to concentrate. He kept thinking about Jada. Since he’d been back in Silver Springs, it’d been difficult not to think of her. Every sight, smell, sound seemed to dredge up those days when they were both so innocent and in love. But now that he knew she was close by, it was even worse. He wondered how she was doing, what her marriage had been like, how old her child was, what had caused her divorce.
Most of all, he wondered if she’d ever forgiven him...
“I thought I might find you here.”
He glanced up to see Aiyana poking her head into his office. It was after seven, but there wasn’t anywhere else he needed to be. Now that Jada was in town, he felt like he couldn’t even go out to dinner or for a drink somewhere.
“Just trying to get prepared.” He pretended he was staying late because it was absolutely necessary, but he hadn’t done anything here he couldn’t have done at home. He just hadn’t been interested in staying in his empty house for that long. At least when he’d lived in Utah, he’d had Paris to come home to. He’d broken up with her before he left, but there was still some question as to whether they might get back together. She’d been hitting him up lately, asking if she could come out and see him.
Maybe if he let her come, he’d be able to forget Jada. Except...he wasn’t in love with her, and it wasn’t right to say yes if he knew it wasn’t going to go anywhere.
“Do you have a minute?” Aiyana asked.
He stood and indicated the chair on the other side of his desk. “Of course.”
She gestured at the stack of files near his elbow. “How are things going so far?”
“Not bad. There’s a lot yet to do, but we’ll get there.”
A small smile quirked her lips. “Does that mean you’re not going to give me notice?”
“Give you notice?”
“Now that you know Jada is living here, too.”
He drew a deep breath as he sank into his chair. “I’m tempted.”
“I talked to her on Saturday.”
To avoid eye contact, he started straightening his desk. She had the uncanny ability to see through anyone. “About...”
“I wanted to let her know you weren’t aware she was living here when you accepted the job, and I wasn’t aware she was here when I extended it.”
He couldn’t help stopping what he was doing so he could look up, after all. “Would you have thought twice had you known?”
“Probably, but only because I would’ve expected you to refuse.”
She was right. That would’ve been a game-changer. “And? What did she say?”
“Not a lot. She’s worried about how her brother might react when he learns you’re back. But you and I have already talked about Atticus. He needs to let go of what happened that night and move on. As hard-hearted and insensitive as it might be to say, given what he’s been through, there is no other choice, not if he wants to lead a happy life.”
She’d told him similarly harsh truths over the years. He remembered one call in particular where she told him to quit feeling sorry for himself and get his ass in gear. He’d needed her tough love as much as her unconditional love. He could see that now. Without her, without that one person who kept checking in on him and holding him accountable, he could easily have chosen a much less productive path. “Was she terribly disappointed that I’m breathing the same air?”
Aiyana studied him. “I don’t think disappointed is the right word.”
He wished he didn’t care what Jada had said, but he did. “What word would you choose?”
“Worried.”
“Well, she has nothing to worry about. I plan to stay well away.”
“I did make it clear that you wouldn’t bother her.”
“Thank you for that.”
She lingered, waiting for him to look up at her again. When he did, she said, “She asked if you were married.”
Every muscle in his body went taut. “Because...”
“She didn’t say, but if my opinion matters at all, I think it’s because she loved you, too.”
She certainly hadn’t done anything to show it. For months after he’d been sent to Rockport Academy outside bitterly cold Chicago, he’d looked for a letter, a phone call, anything. He’d been so devastated, so lonely, that his need manifested itself as a physical ache. His mother had been so angry that he’d let his brother get hold of a gun she wasn’t speaking to him (the fact that she’d taken up with yet another man probably had even more to do with her neglect). His brother had been charged as an adult, and since the whole trial process had taken over a year, due to his age and both sides fighting over how he should be tried, he was sent to a regular adult prison. Maddox had lost the one girl he’d loved more than anything he’d ever loved before. And he’d had to live with the knowledge that her little brother, who was only eleven, had been crippled, and she blamed him. Only Aiyana had reached out to him during those terrible months when he’d come so close to running away from that overly strict school and striking out on his own. She’d forced him to see that, as oppressive as the school was, it provided him with his only avenue toward a second chance, that it was an opportunity he’d be foolish to waste, and she’d promised him that he’d receive the money he needed for college if only he’d bring up his grades and begin to apply himself.
Maddox still wasn’t sure what had caused him to listen to Aiyana. It certainly wasn’t the promise of college. It was her compassion and her fire, her absolute determination, not to lose him to the life he would’ve had otherwise, he supposed. He remembered being surprised she cared so much. “Do you have any idea what went wrong in her marriage?”
She shook her head. “None. I know Susan but not well, and Jada and I have not stayed in touch.”
She’d given him her sympathy thirteen years ago, when everyone else had sympathized exclusively with the Brookses. “What’s Susan like these days? Has she changed?”
“In my opinion, she has, but not for the better.”
“What do you mean?”
“From what I’ve heard, she’s never been very nurturing to Jada. That, of course, got worse after the...accident. You may think Susan blames you and your brother, but I’m sure Jada has taken her own share of the blame. The weird thing is...as hard as she’s been on Jada, she seems to be the opposite with Atticus. I’ve seen him around town. He’s capable of living a full life despite his disability, and yet she babies him like crazy. He never left for school, is still living with her to this day.”
Maddox put several of the files he had out into his right-hand drawer. “Well, when Jada tells him I’m back, maybe he’ll decide to move.”
“I think that would be the best thing for him.”
“You’re trying to make sure I feel comfortable here.”
“Is it working?” she joked.
“I believe in what you’re doing with the school, the kids.”
“Which means you’ll stay.”
“Yeah. What you’re trying to accomplish here is bigger than my own personal discomfort.”
Her smile widened as she stood. “I knew you were the right man for the job.”
He smiled, too, until she left. Then he let his head fall onto the back of his chair.
Did she tell her mother and brother that Maddox was living in Silver Springs or let Susan and Atticus bump into him one day and figure it out for themselves?
Jada stewed about that, as she had all weekend, while she closed the shop Monday night and headed home. Although it was after nine, thanks to the long days of summer the sun had barely set and the air was still warm and pregnant with the scent of flowers, so many of which were blooming in the pots that hung from the streetlights. Summer was when all the tourists came through. Her mother couldn’t afford not to capitalize on the influx, so it’d been a long day for Jada. She hadn’t taken time to pack anything for dinner, and she hadn’t been able to leave the store to pick up something, so she was hungry as well as tired. Her daughter had left around four thirty, having been invited to dinner and a movie in nearby Santa Barbara with Annie and her family, which left Jada to finish out those last five hours on her own. Although that meant she’d had nothing but the cookies in the shop to eat, it also meant Maya would be gone for the next two or more hours and she could have some private time to talk to Susan and Atticus—if she wanted it.
It was probably time to address the past. She and her mother had never really talked about what happened, not after the initial blaming and shaming and, when she found out she was pregnant, pressure for her to put the baby up for adoption. When she’d refused to agree, Susan had grown stony and cold and berated her at every turn. She’d acted as if Jada had caused the loss of her brother’s mobility—essentially the loss of his entire future productivity—and was now foisting an illegitimate baby on the family to care for when they were already reeling. Her father had just gone silent. If Jada did try to talk to him, he was distant, the conversation strained—not real or honest, and definitely not what she’d needed. So she’d moved to LA and had very little interaction with her family during the next few years. As hard as it was to go out on her own at eighteen, and with a baby, it was easier than continuing to bow beneath the overwhelming burden of their disapproval and blame. It wasn’t until after she married and her husband finally reached out that they began to associate again, and then very slowly. Her parents had eventually embraced Eric as if they were relieved they were no longer even remotely responsible for her well-being, as if they could finally accept her again on these new terms, and started to acknowledge Maya. And Jada had done her part to let the past go. She certainly hadn’t wanted to reopen old wounds. By that point, she’d figured some kind of relationship was better than none, especially because she was beginning to struggle in her marriage, to wonder if she’d made a mistake in committing herself to a man she wasn’t passionate about. She’d needed them, needed someone. But her father had gone to his grave before they could ever truly get over what’d happened.
She didn’t want the same thing to happen with her mother.
She told herself she’d call Atticus away from his gaming console, which was where he’d be because he was always there, and confront them both.
But when she walked in, she saw her mother looking pale and drawn as she lay on the couch, watching TV, and couldn’t bring herself to mention Maddox. Having him in town didn’t have to impact them. What did it change? Nothing! His presence wouldn’t alter their routine, compromise their financial picture, limit their opportunities, cost them anything. If they ignored him and went about their business, he could ignore them and go about his business, and they could coexist without a problem.
“How’d we do today?” Susan asked as she heard Jada step into the living room.
“We had a flurry of customers around dinnertime. I put the deposit—five hundred and forty-eight dollars—in the night drop on the way home.”
“Thank God. The house payment is coming out of my account tomorrow.”
“Will you have enough to cover it?”
She adjusted the pillow under her head. “Barely.”
“When does your car payment come out?”
“Not for a few days.”
They’d have more sales by then, but rent on the store would be due soon, too, not to mention the utilities and advertising expenses.
“Where’s Maya?” Susan asked.
A hint of resentment flared up. Her mother had grown to love Maya so much since they’d come to Silver Springs—which was a good thing, Jada reminded herself as she tamped those bitter feelings back down. Still, a little of that love would’ve been nice when Maya was just a baby and Jada had been so desperately in need of emotional support. Maybe she wouldn’t have made the mistake of marrying Eric, would’ve been able to distinguish between desperation and true love, false hope and a genuine connection. “Santa Barbara.”
“What’s she doing there?”
“Seeing a movie with Annie. Where’s Atticus?”
“In his room.”
No surprise. “I was wondering if he’d be willing to help out at Sugar Mama tomorrow. I have a few things I need to do for my own business.”
“You do what you need to,” her mother said. “I’ve got the store.”
That was the problem. Her mother didn’t have the store, shouldn’t be working eleven hours straight through. She was no longer up to it, and Atticus was perfectly capable. “Why can’t he take my place?”
“It’s hard for him to maneuver his wheelchair behind the counters and to reach into the cases and hand customers their sacks, that sort of thing.”
“We can figure out a way to make it work.”
“He’s tried. It’s too difficult.”
He could absolutely do it. That he wouldn’t irritated Jada. And the fact that their mother enabled his excuses made it all worse. “Maya could go with him and do all the reaching and handing.”
“He has anxiety problems, Jada. Being in charge of the store makes it worse. I don’t want to send him spiraling into another depression.”
But was it really anxiety? Or a manipulation technique designed to make sure he never had to do anything he didn’t want to?
Jada was tempted to ask. It was time someone did. Her mother was so lost without her father she was indulging Atticus in every respect, focusing so much of her attention on him that he’d probably never leave home. And maybe that was her intention, to make sure she’d never be alone.
Jada opened her mouth to say something but, knowing it would cause an argument, clamped it shut again and headed for the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” her mother called.
“Getting something to eat. Are you hungry?”
“No. Atticus and I ate earlier. There’s a good show on. You should come watch it with me.”
“I can’t,” Jada said. Now that she’d finished working at the store, she had her own work to do.