white entrée along with a taste of mashed carrots. I told Missy as much as I could about the intruder situation, using code I hoped Hannah couldn’t crack.
“Sounds like something Drake would do. Only milder,” Missy said. She spooned another helping toward Andrew’s waiting lips.
“How are you holding up, anyway?” I asked her.
“It’s hard. I miss my life. My things. My house. You’re very kind to let us stay here.”
“I wish we had done it sooner. It seems foolish now that you had to suffer all those months when you could have been taking steps to get your life together.”
“I know. But I guess I just wasn’t ready. I’m ready now, believe me.”
“Good.” We sat in silence as the kids finished their meals.
With a final bite of her hot dog bun, Hannah wiggled off the stool and put her plate in the trash. She skipped to the diaper bag by the door and reached in. A Dr. Seuss book appeared. She settled on the tile beneath the window and began to read aloud.
Missy held a cloth under warm water and cleaned up Andrew’s pudgy cheeks. “Joel offered to drive me to Escanaba for my checkup this week. While we’re in town, I’m going to see an attorney.”
She bit her lip and gave Hannah a sidelong glance.
The girl was absorbed in her book. “. . . but the Grinch was very, very bad. He didn’t like the little Who people and he wanted to make them go away . . .” She made up words for the pictures.
Missy turned back to me. “I’m going to file.”
I nodded. “You’re doing the right thing.”
Her voice cracked. “Do you think so? God hates divorce. It says so right in the Bible.”
“I can only believe that a loving God hates what Drake has done to you even worse than He hates divorce.”
She sighed. “I struggle so much with that. Sometimes I feel like God’s providing me the way out, like what you and your grandfather have done for me. Other times, I feel like the biggest sinner on the planet, like I’m quitting on the thing God commanded me to see through to the end. ’Til death do us part.”
Behind us, Hannah turned another page. “. . . And the mean Grinch tied up his dog to the sled and went down to steal everything from the Who people . . . all their good stuff . . .”
My chin jutted out in Melissa’s defense. I kept my voice to a harsh whisper. “Well, if Drake had anything to do with it, you’d be dead and he’d be the one raising those kids. I can’t see God wanting that to happen. So just take this opportunity and quit trying to jump back into the pit He just pulled you from.”
“I wish it was that simple,” Melissa said.
I tapped my fingers on the counter. I knew where she was coming from. Self-condemnation was a tempting place to rest. It was certainly easier than coming up with a new approach to life, setting new goals, and trying to be the awesome individual God made you to be. I’d lingered in the guilt pit for years. It gave me a great excuse to check out of life and just exist. Thankfully, God made me face my sin head-on and admit the part I’d had in creating the situation. After that, I grew up a little. I quit worrying so much about what everyone else thought and started doing what was right for my life. Of course, there were casualties . . . like my relationship with Brad.
At the very thought of his name, my throat constricted and my eyes teared up. I missed his voice. And his smile. And his hand holding mine . . .
“Tish? Are you all right?” Missy touched my arm.
I wiped my eyes and nodded. “Yeah. Sorry. What a long, crazy day.”
“I know what you mean.”
She got up from her stool and wrapped her arms around me. Her chin rested in my hair. I clung to her for dear life, my elbows pressing against her firm belly with its little baby tucked inside. I started to cry. She cried with me.
We were still blubbering together about our own personal woes when Joel stepped into the kitchen. He looked over his shoulder toward Sam’s room as if he wasn’t sure which was worse: the sobbing woman he’d just left, or the two bawling females yet to face.
Melissa dropped her arms and grabbed for paper toweling. I used the hem of my T-shirt.
“How’d it go in there?” I asked.
“So-so. It’s confirmed that her ex-husband was driving the vehicle you ID’d, Tish. Needless to say, she’s pretty freaked out and ready to run.”
I opened my mouth to interrupt, but he put up a hand and kept talking.
“Don’t worry, I convinced her to stay,” Joel said, a hint of triumph in his voice. “There’s no reason we can’t keep her safe along with Melissa. Especially since we’ve got extra help on the way.”
“Oh? Who’s that?” I asked.
“Samantha’s brother is coming for a visit. He’s a police officer downstate somewhere. I guess he was tied up with some big trial, but now that it’s over he can take time off.”
I sucked in an agonizing breath. No. Not Brad. I’d worked hard to free my mind of him. I couldn’t face him. I couldn’t see him. One word, one smile, one touch . . . and I’d be back at the beginning of wretched heartache.
30
“Absolutely not,” I said. “There’s enough people at the lodge as it is. I don’t have room for tourists.” There was no need for Joel to know of my past relationship with Brad.
Joel gave my face a playful squeeze with his fingers. “Not to worry. He’ll be staying at the lake house with me, Papa B, and Olivia.” He winked as he waltzed off.
My hands planted themselves on my hips and stayed there as I mounted the staircase. People were doing things without my consent. It might have been Sam’s idea to rescue Melissa and her kids, but I was the one who’d actually done it. So, technically, everything should be my plan, my way.
I closed my door, shutting out the turn of circumstances. I went for the bedside table and picked up my mom’s picture. I wiped off the remaining black letters with my bath towel. I stuck the two halves together, matching the jagged edges. Then I curled under my blankets, stared into her beautiful eyes, and cried myself to sleep.
Thursday morning, I rebelled against life by staying in bed. Finally, about an hour before I was due at Candice’s house, I bathed and dressed. I snuck out of the lodge without bumping into anyone. The drive to Candice’s farmhouse lifted my spirits. The leaves were in fresh, full-blown splendor, giving testimony to hot, lazy days ahead.
I turned onto her property and parked, full of anticipation for the conversation ahead with all its distractions. I’d spent almost every Thursday over the past three months at Candice’s home. It was a tradition I’d come to love, a fixture of my new life.
Candice waved me in. “Hello!”
I hurried up the walk and gave her a hug of greeting. “How are you feeling this week? Better?” I asked.
“I won’t be participating in any foot races, if that’s what you mean.”
“Well, I just hoped you were up for talking today.”
She nodded her head. “That’s right. I have some explaining to do.”
She served tea and sandwiches on the enclosed back porch. I settled into white wicker softened by pastel floral cushions. The view over the fields brought a sigh of contentment as I sipped the icy concoction. An occasional fly buzzed against the screen, an annoyance diminished by the barrier between us.
“I bumped into two guys at the Grille yesterday,” I said. I didn’t want to waste any time getting to the point just in case Candice tried to wiggle out of the conversation again. “They were there when my mom died.”
She adjusted in her chair. “Oh? What guys were those?”
“Homer somebody and something Baker.” What a sleuth I was turning out to be.
A nod. “Johnson and Cody. They’re locals. Usually, those two are unemployed. But your mom died the year the mill hired for that big shutdown. Of course, even with a job they were doing what they do best—hanging out at the bar.” Her voice of derision was back on again, and I wondered what those two men did to get on her bad side.
