Carolyn McSparren - Safe At Home

“But it’s so unfair,” Irene said. “I know Hollis would have come around in time, when he saw how happy you made Adam. If he just hadn’t had his stroke so soon…I could make you an allowance and never even notice the money was gone.”

Tala covered Irene’s small hand with hers. “You’re spending a ton on the kids as it is, and I am more grateful than you’ll ever know. They need so much I can’t give them.”

“But with an allowance, you could quit your job, go back to school. It would be so easy…” Irene’s voice trailed off helplessly.

Tala leaned back. “I know it must seem crazy to you, Irene. It would be easy to let you spoil me rotten and make all the decisions the way Adam used to, but if I’m ever going to stand on my own feet, I have to start somewhere and just keep going until I get there—wherever there is.”

Vertie patted her knee. “Hush, Irene. She’s right. We are here to do what we can when we can, and for as long as we can. But it’s Tala’s life, and she’s got a darned sight more of it left to live. So if she wants to bungee-jump off the Grand Canyon, then I do say go for it.”

“And the first warm day you’ll fly off to Nepal or Bali and leave me to handle the town gossip,” Irene snapped, then looked contrite. “I’m sorry, Vertie, that was uncalled-for.”

“But true. All right, I promise. I will stick around at least until June when the kids are out of school. Then I’ll drag both of them off somewhere for the summer. Tala and you, too, if you’ll come.”

“Oh, no. I belong here.” Irene reached across and laid her fine-boned hand with its sprinkling of liver spots and beautifully manicured pink nails on Tala’s knee. “Do what you have to, dear. It would be marvelous for you to have the afternoons free. The children miss you at their practices. Vertie and I are a poor substitute.”

“You’d never know Rachel misses me,” Tala said. “She wishes I were the one going off to Nepal.”

“She’s just going through a bad time since Adam…died,” Irene said.

“Since some fool shot him to death over some out-of-season deer kill,” Vertie said. “He didn’t die, Irene. He got himself murdered, and the devil that killed him is still walking around looking for more deer to poach.”

“Please, Vertie,” Tala said.

“I’m sorry, but it makes me so damned mad. In my day we’d have caught the sum’bitch and strung him up to the nearest oak tree. The hell with due process.”

Tala stood up quickly, set the fragile cup on the table and bent to kiss Vertie’s cheek. It felt like crushed velvet—soft, but with a myriad tiny imperfections and striations. “I love you, Belle Starr, Queen of the Outlaws, and you, too, Irene.”

“So, you going to take the job?” Vertie asked in a raspy voice that showed how close she was to tears.

“Maybe. I’ll talk to Beanie on my shift tonight. Please don’t mention a word to the kids until I’m sure.”

“Of course, dear,” Irene said, then followed her to the door and touched her cheek. Her eyes were full of concern. “You’ve got dark circles the size of dinner plates under your eyes, and I swear you’ve lost some more weight. You have to remember to eat, Tala. Promise?”

“Yes, ma’am.” She kissed Irene’s cheek, walked to her truck, climbed in and waved to the two women standing at the top of the porch stairs.

They stood arm in arm, united for all their differences. Vertie, tall, angular and hawk-faced, her still-thick gray hair pulled back into a bun at the back of her neck, in her faded jeans, heavy fisherman’s sweater and white Nikes. Irene, shorter than Tala, and plump as a partridge, with her immaculately coifed golden hair, her beige wool skirt and baby blue cashmere twin set, wearing high-heeled taupe pumps that showed off the trim ankles that were her greatest vanity. As Tala climbed into her truck, the women turned and went back into the house. A united front as far as the rest of the world was concerned.

If either woman had an inkling how difficult it was for Tala not to be a full-time mother to her children, they would have shipped the pair of them home to her farmhouse in a heartbeat, and volunteered to ferry them home after their practices every afternoon.

But Rachel wouldn’t come back to the farm. She swore she’d never set foot there again so long as she lived. She never wanted to see the deer or the possums or raccoons again. So far as she was concerned, if Adam hadn’t devoted his life to wild animals, he’d still be alive.

And by extension, if he’d married some safe debutante instead of Tala, he’d never have felt he could follow his dream and become a warden. He’d have been a nice, rich banker living in a big house in town. Rachel was full of anger, and Tala didn’t know how to help her.

And the only night Cody had spent on the farm in the last three months he’d cried and had nightmares about his father all night long until Tala slept in the rocking chair beside his bed and held her hand on him. At least at his grandmother’s he could sleep.

As she started her vehicle, a bright red Jeep pulled in behind her and honked its horn. She turned off the engine and jumped out of the truck. “Rachel, Cody, Irene said you wouldn’t be home for an hour yet.” She opened her arms and Cody flew into them. Rachel stood by the Jeep with a scowl on her face.

“Mom!” Cody said, and kissed her cheek. “Mrs. Johnson was sick, so Rachel’s stupid cheerleading practice got canceled and Mrs. Lippincott gave us a ride home so we wouldn’t have to walk.”

She looked over Cody’s head. “Sorry about your practice, Rach, but I’m glad I got to see you.”

Rachel shifted her book bag and walked past her mother and up the steps. “We’ll never make it to the State finals at this rate,” she snapped, then turned around to stare at her mother. “What’s the big deal?” Her face clouded, and Tala saw a flash of anxiety in her eyes. “Nobody’s sick, are they?”

Tala slid Cody to his feet and walked over to touch Rachel’s shoulder. Rachel didn’t exactly flinch, she just moved out from under her mother’s fingers.

“Everybody’s fine so far as I know, Rach.”

“Great. I got homework. Bye.” She walked up the steps and into the house.

Cody made a face at her retreating back. “Boy, is she ever a pain. How come I can’t be an only child?”

“Little late for that, I’m afraid, Cody bear.”

“She’s not mean to anybody but you—well, mostly.”

“Is she mean to you?”

Cody snickered. “No way. I’m a big martial-arts type, Mom. Yee-hah.” He proceeded to throw his fists and kick out, just missing his mother’s shoulder.

“Very impressive. But don’t use it on your sister or anybody else, you got that?”

“Oh, Mom.”

She glanced at her watch. “Drat. I’m late. I love you, Cody bear. And tell Rachel I love her, too.” She kissed the top of his head. He waved and scurried up the steps and into the big house. Tala watched him go as she climbed into her truck. She felt her eyes sting with unshed tears. He looked so much like the pictures of his father at that age.

She drove out and turned toward the road to the sanctuary. She barely had time to drop off the supplies and get to the Food Farm on time.

Most people, looking at Cody, would assume he was over his father’s death. Tala knew better. Cody kept his feelings all inside, while Rachel bared her teeth at the universe. They both probably needed to talk to a psychologist of some kind, but the closest one was fifty miles away, and he didn’t have much of a reputation.

She’d have to muddle through and try to help them. Herself, as well.

As much as she longed to be with her children, Tala could not give up the farmhouse, the house where she and Adam had been married, had loved and given birth to their babies, and where Adam had lain in his coffin before he was buried in the little cemetery behind the Episcopal mission with the other Newsomes.