Molly O'Keefe - Unexpected Family

She laughed, dark and resentful. “Well, at least that we can agree on. Not that it will do us much good.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like it or not, we’ll be staying.”

CHAPTER THREE

AFTER A FEW HOURS of sleep Lucy woke up, got dressed in her favorite jeans and loose white T-shirt, pulled her hair back in a sloppy ponytail and contemplated her jewelry.

Everything was too light, she needed something heavy. Something dark. But her designs never leaned that way. Finally, she settled on the beaded silver hoops.

Sandra was already up, humming as she put scrambled eggs onto a blue plate. She glowed with a grim purpose, which was entirely expected.

Careful what you wish for, she chided herself.

“Hey, Mom,” she said, grabbing the keys to Reese’s sports car from the dish on the counter where all the keys sat. She opened her purse and pulled out her cell.

Meisha had called four times this morning.

She turned off her phone.

“You’re up early.” Her mother’s voice, softened and textured by her Spanish accent, was still the best sound in the world. And the sight of her in a kitchen was like seeing an animal in its natural habitat. Sandra ruled the kitchen, every kitchen. It didn’t matter where she was, in ten minutes she would have food and drink to end your hunger and soothe your soul. She was magic in a thin, five-foot package. And this morning all that magic was ignited.

“I’ve got to take a car back over to Stone Hollow.”

“You want some eggs?” Sandra put a fork on the plate.

“I’ll take a bite.” She reached for the fork, but Sandra moved the plate out of the way.

“These aren’t for you. I’ll make you some, though.”

“Walter?” Of course she would already be waiting on Walter.

“It was good what you did, getting him to the hospital.”

“Yeah, well, you know what they say—no good deed goes unpunished.”

“Lucia Marie—”

“Mom.” She took a deep breath and fanned her hands over the counter as if finding, by touch, the argument that was going to work. It was time to get her head out of her own misery and take care of her mom, the way her mom had always taken care of her. “I get it, he needs you, but don’t let him take advantage of you.”

“He hasn’t even let me into his room, honey.”

“You wanted to leave…remember? One more week.”

“He’s going to have that cast for at least three.”

“Jack’s not poor, Mom. He can hire someone to take care of him.”

“And how will that work? Walter—”

“I don’t think Walter gets a vote on the subject anymore.”

“Everyone is allowed their pride, sweetheart.”

Lucy put her head down on the counter. Lifted it and thunked it again. “Mom, he’s a drunk. He will always be a drunk. Caring for that man will bleed you dry.”

“Not if he quits.”

“And you honestly think that will happen?”

“I pray for it.”

Like a true sinner, she wondered what prayer’s success rate was against alcoholism, but she kept her mouth shut. There was no arguing with her mother when she was all hopped up on playing the nursemaid. And Walter was like an amusement park of need.

“Have you forgotten what he did to us after Dad died?” Lucy hated saying the words, bringing the memory up front like this. It made her stomach hurt. It made her want to do over last night and let Walter sit in pain on the kitchen floor for another couple of hours.

“I have forgotten nothing.” Sandra’s tone of voice made her seem a foot taller. “But the man has a sprained foot, Lucy. When did you get so hard-hearted?”

“Me?” Lucy gaped at her mother. “It’s not like I’m saying let’s leave him in the mountains to die. I’m saying you’ve done enough, Mom.”

“How about this,” Sandra said. “We stay until they hire someone Walter can live with to take care of him.”

“That will be forever.”

And that suits your purposes just fine, a dark voice said. Three more weeks of not having to face up to the mess you made in Los Angeles. Why are you fighting this?

Sandra licked her lips. “I’ll…I’ll do what I can to hurry it along.”

“What does that mean?”

“Walter doesn’t want me here, not really. And when reminded of that, he’ll…” She shrugged. “He’ll agree to have someone else help him.”

Lucy wasn’t going to ask for more information. She had enough problems of her own without digging into Walter’s issues with Sandra.

“Okay, three weeks. That’s as long as we’re staying. I swear, Mom, if I have to drag you—”

Mom lifted a hand, her face unsmiling.

Right, Lucy thought, Mom didn’t get dragged. She went willingly or not at all.

“Three weeks should be sufficient,” Sandra said.

“I’ll be back in an hour,” Lucy said. “And then I’ll talk to Mia and Jack about getting a nurse.” She grabbed her bag and headed out into the sunny morning.

Once in town, she used what money she had left in her wallet to get gas. She was going to have to get a job soon. Or sell the condo, but she needed to talk to Sandra about that, since she helped put down the deposit, and that was a conversation she wasn’t quite ready to have.

Then she drove by her Civic at the bar just to make sure it was still there. It was. Dusty and red and old. Reese could drop her off here after she returned the car.

She stared at her car for a while, stalling for time, reluctant to go up to Stone Hollow and pretend like that sad desperate kiss had never happened with Jeremiah. Because that was really the only thing to do.

Life sure has gotten complicated in the past twenty-four hours. She sped out of town, opening the engine up over the pass in a fond goodbye.

She could use a car like this to outrun all the problems after her. Hell, a car like this she could sell and solve most of her problems.

The parking area in front of Jeremiah’s house was empty and she nearly sang a little song of relief. No brooding cowboy problem. Huzzah.

Once out of the car, she knocked on the door to the house and waited. A long time. She cupped her hands around her eyes and peered through the glass, trying to see signs of life.

Suddenly, there was thump that shook the door. Wary, she stepped back and a small face covered in what looked like grape jelly appeared in the window. A little boy with brown curly hair. His blue eyes not unlike Jeremiah’s.

“It’s a girl!” the boy yelled over his shoulder, the sound muffled by the door. Someone over the boy’s shoulder must have said something because he nodded and turned back to face her.

“Do we know you?” he asked.

“I’m your neighbor.”

“No, you’re not. Mia is our neighbor.”

“I’m Mia’s sister.”

The boy seemed to process that and he turned to yell something over his shoulder.

“What’s your name?” he asked when he turned back around.

“Lucy.”

His face split in a wide grape-jelly smile and Lucy felt herself smile in return. Heartbreaker.

“My friend Willow has a dog named Lucy,” he yelled through the glass.

“That’s great, buddy, is your uncle here?”

“No.”

She blinked. “Are you here by yourself?”

The door thumped again and the little boy vanished only to be replaced by a slightly older boy. Under his dark hair, dark eyes narrowed in an attempt to be threatening. It was oddly effective. Troublemaker.

“I’m going to need to see some ID,” the boy said, and she laughed before she realized he was serious. She pulled her driver’s license out and pressed it up to the glass.

The boy studied it and then looked back up at her with his simultaneously young and old eyes. “You here to rob us? ’Cause there’s nothing here to rob. Not even a video game or computer.”