I nod to Gardenia and Jakob.
“We’ll talk later,” she says. Jakob manages a smile.
“We will?” I can’t conceal my surprise.
“Yes, now that you’re no longer on the dark side, I might have some ideas for you.”
“I—I don’t know what to say.”
Jakob’s frown gives way to curiosity. He’s puzzled, but then so am I.
“You don’t have to say anything. We care about Noah, don’t we, Jake?”
Jakob nods slowly.
“We should be going. Thank you.” I put a hand on Noah’s back and urge him toward the door. He reluctantly lets me push him along. He’s quiet as I drive home. I’m glad. I don’t feel much like talking. I make dinner while he plays on his tablet.
We sit down to eat, and Noah breaks his silence. “Are we going to be okay?”
“Of course we are.”
“You won’t go away like Mommy did, will you?”
His mommy didn’t go away, and he knows that, but probably going away and dying are close to the same thing in his little-boy mind.
“Never. Absolutely never.” I reach across the table and squeeze his hand. “We’ll get through this together. I’ll bet in a few months we’ll look back and realize losing that job is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”
“Do you really think so?”
“I do.” I sound more positive than I feel. Right now, our situation is overwhelming, and I can’t think straight. I guess I’m still in shock over how quickly things have changed.
“I didn’t want to tell you this, but—” He hesitates and pulls a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket. “Coach wanted me to give this to you.”
I read the note with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. “Do you know what’s in here?”
“Yeah, I mean, he told me. I’m growing really fast, and my skates and stuff don’t fit right anymore. I know we can’t afford?—”
“Of course we can afford to upgrade your equipment,” I interrupt, and lie through my teeth. I won’t put this on him. He’s a good kid, and I’ve told him too much as it is.
“Are you sure?” His eyes light up in anticipation. “Coach says they sell the perfect skates at the rink. I can try a few pairs on and?—”
“Yes, we’ll go shopping in a week or two. Can you wait that long?”
His expression is cryptic. “I’m not sure.” He pulls off a sock, and I’m appalled at the blister on his heel from skates that’re too small.
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“Because I didn’t want to bother you.”
“You’ll never bother me. We’ll go this weekend.”
His face lights up, and he breaks into one of those grins that I live for. “Thank you.”
I have no idea how I’ll get the money, but I’ll find a way. The skates are most important as they’re doing damage. I should have enough on one of my two credit cards to get those tomorrow.
For the rest of his gear, I recall the Icehawks have a program for youth who can’t afford equipment, but I have no idea if the evil Aria would qualify for the program. I’m willing to put myself out there and ask, even if doing so is humiliating.
There’re no limits to what I’ll do for Noah.
