By the time she’d finished reviewing her budget, it was almost ten o’clock. Instead of turning off the lights and heading to her bedroom, she reread David’s contract and emailed it to him. Unlike the papers she’d signed with the bank, this was harder to accept. She was agreeing to not only pay back the money, but also to share the ups and downs of owning her own business with someone else.
For the last few years, she’d fiercely guarded her independence. She wanted to make her own decisions, plan her life so her boys would realize what hard work and perseverance could do. But, without David’s help, her business would be over before it began.
“Mom?”
Andrea turned and smiled at Charlie. “I thought you’d be asleep by now.”
“Andy’s sleep-talking again. What are you doing?”
“I’ve sent Mr. O’Dowd an email. He’s lending me some money to buy the appliances for the café.”
Charlie yawned. “Like the ones you showed us on the Internet?”
“Hopefully. Would you like me to tuck you into bed?”
“Okay, but I don’t know if I’ll go back to sleep.”
She wrapped her arm around his narrow shoulders. He was small for a ten-year-old. Much smaller than Andy had been. It wasn’t until her ex-husband’s family told her he was the spitting image of his father at the same age, that her heart broke. Charlie had seen and heard enough to make him terrified of being anything like his dad.
“I could read you another chapter of your book?”
A sleepy smile drifted across Charlie’s freckled face. “Could you read two chapters?”
Andrea led him toward his bedroom. “One-and-a-half, and that’s my final offer.”
“Deal.” Charlie’s smile disappeared. “I think Andy was dreaming about Dad.”
Her hand automatically tightened on his shoulder. “Why do you think that?”
“He was groaning real bad. He only does that when he remembers what happened.”
The weight of the guilt she carried felt overwhelming. She should have left Scotty sooner than she did, but she’d thought he would change. He’d rationalized his violent outbursts by telling her he was stressed, money was tight, the boys were too noisy, or the entire world was against him. Whatever his excuse, she’d believed him. Like a shmuck, she’d accepted each apology, hidden the evidence of his abuse, and smiled through her tears. Until, one day, she couldn’t hide anymore.
“Hearing my voice might make him feel better. Do you dream about your dad?”
Charlie climbed into bed. “Sometimes.” His quiet voice whispered across the room he shared with Andy. “It makes me scared.”
“I don’t like thinking about him, either. Do you know what I do when I’m scared?”
With large blue eyes focused on her, Charlie shook his head.
“I remember some of the best days I’ve spent with you and Andy. It makes me happy.”
“What’s one of those days?”
Andrea picked up Charlie’s book. “When Shelley showed us this house. We’d been living with Mr. Jessop and I never thought we’d have a home of our own.”
“It smelled of paint and wood.”
“You remember?”
“Andy said I had to be good or we’d go back to Mr. Jessop’s house. I liked living with Mr. Jessop, but he snored real loud.”
Andrea smiled. “He did, didn’t he?”
Charlie glanced at his brother. “Andy’s not talking anymore. That’s good.”
She kissed the top of Charlie’s head and he snuggled close. There wouldn’t be many ten-year-old boys who enjoyed being close to their mom, but Charlie did, and so did Andy. For all their lives they’d looked out for each other. Where one went the other followed, especially if trouble wasn’t far away.
