“You don’t?” I asked.
“Nope. Two and a half miles if you take Colonial. Normal traffic, I’m ten minutes away. I think that’s the reason Penny was so pushy for me to have a key. Took the responsibility off you girls, and she knew I wasn’t too far away.”
My head tilted at that. “Yeah, but how would she know where you lived? It makes no sense to me.”
He hesitated. “She reached out by sending me cards. I returned the favor.”
I closed my eyes because that was like a knife to my gut. When I’d moved up to New York, I told him we could stay in touch with letters and phone calls, and he flatly refused to send me the first letter. But he could send my mother a card?
I nodded to myself. “So, she had your mailing address.”
“Yeah,” he whispered.
It hit me strange, this newfound knowledge that Mom had kept in touch with a man I’d loved and lost. Well, not exactly lost. More like we pushed each other away in the end.
How could she do that? It seemed like a betrayal. Not seemed, it was one.
Then realization washed over me like a cold shower.
Mom lived to take a long shot. She rooted for the underdog as if she were an underdog herself. When Clint and I split for good, she had been hurt –just as Juanita had been hurt. Which had made Mom even more bitter when I told her about the letter Juanita had sent. Her tirade had been impressive, and I’d wished I’d recorded it but didn’t have the ability back then.
I shook off the thoughts and memories.
“So, why did you call, Clint? To check on the peanut situation?”
He paused, but not for long.
“Not really. I just wanted to clear the air with you and see how you were doing.”
Chapter 7
Tofu, Sprouts, and Coconut Water
Raegan
LATE THE NEXT MORNING, I was emptying the dishwasher when Mom shuffled into the kitchen.
“You need to get ready for Clint, Wynnie.”
The name slip was fairly common from Mom, and I was loathe to point it out because that only highlighted my sister’s death.
I checked the time on the microwave before I caught Mom’s eyes. “It’s half past ten, Mom. I’m sure Clint’s working right now. Besides that, why would I need to get ‘ready’ for him?”
Mom hung her head for a moment before looking up at me. “I’m sorry, Raegan. I shouldn’t have called you by your sister’s name. It’s just, Wednesdays she had an aqua-aerobics class and Clint always came by so she could get there on time.”
My brows furrowed. “So... Wynnie leaned on Clint to help her out?”
Mom’s eyes narrowed. “No, Raegan Anne. I set it up so Clint would be here when my daughter most needed to get away from me. Believe it or not, I know how much of a burden I’ve become—”
“Mom, you’re not—”
“Do not interrupt your mother,” she said, making me feel like I was ten years old.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
She jerked her chin mulishly. “It’s not easy dealing with me these days, and your sister had a life to live.” Her breath caught and I thought she would leave it at that, but I was wrong. “And God bless him, Clint did his best to make it so Wynnie could keep some amount of normal in her life.”
I pulled my upper lip between my teeth and bit it. The pain dulled the poignant ache eating at me from Mom’s words and the realization I’d taken Wynnie’s sacrifices for granted. It seemed I had far more to thank Clint for than I realized.
Also, I needed to apologize for demanding his key back that first day.
While I closed the dishwasher, I thought about how I had to ‘get ready’ for Clint.
The sound of the dishwasher locking pulled Mom from some deep-rooted contemplation. “What are you doing, Raegan? You need to empty that dishwasher.”
I grinned. “Know that, Mom. But I’m more concerned about what I have to do before Clint shows up. And for that matter are you sure he is going to drop by? He has a job, Mom. And it sounds like it’s less predictable than —”
Mom slammed her walker to the side so she could face me. “He comes to eat lunch with me on Wednesdays. You mentioned he thought you’d be gone after two weeks, that means he should be here today.”
I nodded. “All right, Mom. Calm down.”
She huffed. “I’m perfectly calm, Raegan. But you need to get out three plates. If we’re lucky, he’s bringing fried chicken, potato salad, broccoli salad, and buns. Biscuits if we’re really lucky.”
“So, more sodium for your low-sodium diet, eh?”
She glowered. “Feel free to keep those comments to yourself. He doesn’t have to bring an old lady lunch once a week, but he does.”
Roughly forty-five minutes later, the back door unlocked, and Clint sauntered inside carrying three grocery bags, the scent of fried food preceding him.
I reached out for a bag. “Rumor has it, you’ve brought lunch.”
He gave me a long look, but whatever he was thinking he hid it well.
“Rumor’s right. Though I don’t know if your mom’s gonna be happy about you eating what would otherwise be her leftovers.”
I chuckled. “Depending on what you’ve brought, that might be a non-issue.”
“You turn down extra-crispy chicken and say it’s a non-issue, you and I have got issues, Raegan.”
I shook my head and took the bag to the counter.
While he put food on the counter, I grabbed some spoons. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”
He rested a hand on the counter. “It occur to you this is something I like doing?”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
Even though I didn’t believe him, I pulled down some plates.
“Your Mom’s a cool lady, Rae. I
