Stef Ann Holm by Lucy Back (books to read in your 30s TXT) 📗

“Thank you, Doctor,” she said, her voice barely audible.

“I’m sorry, Miss Carpenter.” The doctor rose to his feet, and Lucy followed suit. “I’ve got to see my other patients. I’ll be back to check on Jason shortly. He’s resting right now. You’ll be able to take him home tonight, but I’m not sure when.”

“Thank you.” The words sounded wooden, hollow.

Lucy didn’t immediately return to the waiting area. She held back, fought the tears that threatened to fall.

Apparently there was no safe place for her children. She knew Jason had no pocket money, so he must have met up with some boys in town who shared hits from their joint or offered him something as a trade or…something. She shuddered, the unknown raising gooseflesh on her arms.

At this point, all she had was speculation, but the roach clip was enough evidence that her son had broken his promise.

How had she failed so miserably?

Everything she had done, everything she had planned for in Red Duck, now seemed misguided. A waste of time and energy.

Walking in the opposite direction from where she’d come, Lucy followed the signs to the chapel, found the small room with its faux stained glass and took a seat.

The pews were cushioned and soft, and she wondered how many people before her had come to pray about loved ones who were on the cusp of dying. Tragedy struck lives, took lives. And here she was… Her son would recover, but would she? Could she emotionally handle this?

She damned Gary. Then felt badly for doing so in the church.

But if he’d been around, she’d have help. She had no doubts they would have divorced, and at this point, she couldn’t care less if he was with Diane. She did care that he was hundreds of miles away, as if he didn’t have a responsibility in the world. The raising of their sons fell exclusively on her shoulders, and she needed help.

God help me….

The tears began to fall.

I need help.

Lucy quietly cried, lowering her face into her hands and letting out the sorrow of many months. She couldn’t recall the last time she’d actually let it all out. Probably too long.

When she was done, she dug through her purse, found a tissue and blew her nose.

A hand settled on her shoulder, startling her. She turned, only to see Drew Tolman in the pew behind her. His big hand remained on her, warm and comforting, as if she allowed those intimate feelings to surface. The rapid thud of her pulse sounded in her ears. Her gaze left his, lowered to where he touched her. As soon as she did that, he let her go.

“I didn’t want to interrupt you before.”

“Jason?”

“He’s okay. I meant, I saw you crying and I figured you need some private time.”

For some reason, the fact that he’d watched her unnerved Lucy. “You watched me cry?”

“Not for all that long. But it looked like you needed to.”

Her emotions whirled and skidded. One moment, she’d been drawn by the raw sensuousness in his eyes; the next, those thoughts all but evaporated. She felt a little snappish, slightly annoyed with him. But for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why. Then it hit her: He’s seen me weak.

She hated that, hated to be less than capable. And now he’d seen her at her worse.

“I didn’t think you’d be the type to come into a church.” She couldn’t help the short response.

“Well, I did put on my asbestos underwear this morning, so I think I’ll be okay.”

She clued in to the fact he was teasing, saying he’d have gone up in flames if he hadn’t been wearing protection.

Unbidden, she smiled. “Funny.”

“I’ve been in a church a few times.”

She straightened, stuffed her wet tissues back into her purse. “I’m sure that’s a stretch, but I’m not going to debate it with you.”

He merely chuckled. Then his voice lowered an octave and she could tell he was looking at the back of her head. “You okay?”

“Fine,” she lied, still facing forward.

“I saw the doc heading back without you.”

“Where’s Matt?” she asked.

“He’s watching TV in the waiting room.”

“I should get back to him.” Lucy stood, smoothed the front of her shirt and put the straps of her handbag on her shoulder.

“Give yourself another minute,” Drew suggested, standing behind her.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because you look like you’ve been crying.”

“It could be because I’m upset about my son getting hit in the head.”

“Could be, but that’s not the reason. Want to tell me?”

She walked past him, through the chapel doors and into the hallway. “No.”

“I was once his age. Nothing would surprise me.”

“I’m sure it wouldn’t.”

Drew matched her stride, fell in step with her. “If you change your mind, you’ve got my number.”

And you’ve got a girlfriend!

Why she was suddenly aggravated about his circumstances…why the anger welled, knowing he was “taken,” just when he appeared to express real concern for her and her son…she just didn’t want to address it.

So she said nothing further.

Later that night, Drew dropped her off to pick up her car from the field. Lucy brought Jason home, put him to bed, but she didn’t bring up the roach clip. She needed to sleep on it, figure out how she was going to deal with him, what the consequences would be.

Perhaps she’d been naive when she thought she’d never have to revisit this again.

The reality settled like a weight on her shoulders. It was going to be a long night.

Journal of Mackenzie Taylor

I graduated high school! Peabody Marsh sat in front of me and he lit off a smoke bomb just as the valley-victorian valvictorian was giving her speech. Principle Walton had a conniption fit.

I kept looking in the audience and I only saw Aunt Lynette. I wished Momma was sitting right next to her. I started crying and I had to hide it so my mascara wouldn’t run.

When the commencement was over, everyone threw their caps in the air. Then a streaker ran across the gym. He wore