“Sounds like a plan.” She presses a kiss to my cheek. “You know I’m always a phone call away, right?” A few moments later, the front door slams shut.
Grabbing my purse from the oblong table in the hall, I leave the house. I turn, lock the door, and walk to the elementary school in flip-flops.
It’s a lovely, sunny day, which isn’t very unusual for California. I put my sunglasses on, push a hand through my hair and take a deep breath to prepare myself for what’s coming. I turn the corner and look up at the fences surrounding the old, familiar school building that could, frankly, use a little renovation.
The moment I enter the schoolyard, I feel the other parents’ stares burning into me. I continue, my back straight. My reluctance to come back here stems from this single factor. They cast judgmental glances at me because they think they know me.
I walk past a woman who was in grade seven with me. “That’s her. She made her husband disappear,” she mutters to the platinum-blonde lady next to her.
I roll my eyes. I’ve recently been labeled as “the woman who made her husband disappear” on top of everything else. Chinhigh, hands in pockets, I wait expectantly at the school’s main entrance.
It won’t be long before the school bell rings and my wonderful daughter comes running through the doors. That’s all that matters. That, and whether or not she had a nice day. Nothing else in this world is important to me right now. Not the fact that there’s gossip ‘cause Connor’s dead, not that I’m Kyler’s ex, nor that I’m the daughter of the late Vice President, Elias Turner.
The old, familiar school bell finally rings a few minutes later, sending a shiver down my spine. A vivid image of Teagan and me comes to mind. I wonder how many times we exited this school together, happily chatting along, not a care in the world. Children with carefree lives. Things are so different for us now. Teagan is a single mother of a daughter, with an ex who wants nothing to do with her or Gaby. My husband’s murder made me a single mother.
We’re quite the couple.
It doesn’t take long before Rebel comes running through that same door, her hair blowing in the wind.
“Mom,” she yells, long before she throws her little body into my arms.
I barely catch her, pull her against my chest, and press a kiss to her forehead, then put her back on her feet. “Did you have a nice day, sweetie?”
Rebel nods enthusiastically and pulls her backpack from her shoulders to push it into my hands. “Here.”
Together, we walk back to our house. Skipping happily, Rebel chatters about her artwork and the kids she’s been playing with. I’m glad she enjoyed herself and it seems she’ll settle in quickly.
I put the key in the lock of our house and open the door.
“Wow, Mom,” she says in amazement. “Everything’s done.” With a big smile on her face, she sits at the kitchen table, fingers rubbing over the grain in the wood. “Can I have tea, anda cookie?” She looks up at me, eyes twinkling. “Just like old times?”
My heart breaks as I turn on the kettle. “Sure, honey.”
Old times. That’s what she calls it. It’s barely been a few months. We haven’t even been able to bury him.
Shoulders shaking, Rebel takes off her coat and puts it over the back of the chair. “I’ll put it on the rack after tea, okay?”
Rolling my eyes, I nod at her. When the water boils, I pour the steaming water into two mugs, set them on the table, and go back for the cookie jar.
“You can pick one,” I say as I hold out the jar to her. “Made any new friends?”
Rebel tosses her blond hair over her shoulder and blows into her tea. “There’s a boy in my class. Everyone likes him and today the teacher told him he had to help me when I couldn’t find things.” Her dark-brown eyes light up. “All the girls were jealous, except for one. She wanted to sit next to me and she’s really nice. I played with her during recess and two more girls joined in. I think we’re friends now.”
“That’s lovely, baby. What do you want to eat tonight? It’s your day today,”
“Mac and cheese?” My seven-year-old gazes at me hopefully.
“We can do that.” I don’t tell her I’d already gotten it at the store, since it’s her favorite food. Children are terribly predictable when it comes to these things. “Let’s check the cupboard for macaroni.” I bend down and stick my head exaggeratedly far into the cupboard.
Rebel giggles. “Can you find anything, Mom?”
“It’s a little dark in here, but I think I’ve found something.” There’s more giggling and the scraping of chair legs. I lift the package from the shelf. “This one?”
“Yes,” sounds enthusiastically from the open plan living room the moment the coat falls from the chair on the floor. “Whichcabinet did you put the drawing supplies in, Mom?” Hesitantly, she approaches the new sideboard.
“The left door, honey.” I rummage in the other cupboards to gather all the ingredients for dinner.
Meanwhile, Rebel finds the pencils and her coloring books, and slides back on the chair. Rebel draws and colors while I’m making mac and cheese, and the comfortable peace that surrounds us makes me feel a little happier than I felt an hour ago. A little more okay with everything that’s happened in my life. After everything, I hope to find peace and for the first time in a long time, I feel like I can breathe a little easier.
