He restrained the broad grin that wanted to spread across his mouth. He wouldn’t let on he understood what a huge deal this was. She’d never said as much, but Carl had picked up on the signs—Luna was afraid to be alone in a vehicle with a man. Every time he thought about what may have caused that fear, he filled with rage.
“Sure thing.” He took a bite of pie to keep his excitement from bursting out in a rampant string of words. “What’s wrong with your car?”
“It doesn’t want to start half the time. I think it just needs a new battery, but even that’s out of my price range.” She scrunched her nose and shook her head. “God will provide. I’m learning to trust Him.”
“Yes, He will.” Dare he push his luck? “I promised my mom that I’d help her pick up a new stove at two, but after we visit Hope, I can take a look at your car.”
“Could you?” Relief shone in her eyes. “I don’t want to inconvenience you, but if I can save a mechanic’s bill, that would be great.”
“It’s no problem.” He caught a glimpse at the wall clock and reluctantly finished off his pie. “I hate to run, but Mom wants to ride with, which means I have to pick her up first.”
“Thanks again for helping.” She gifted him with a shy smile.
“Anytime.” He stood up, dropped off his and Luna’s dirty dishes at the kitchen window, walked out the double doors, and left for his mom’s house.
Her home didn’t look like much to an outsider, but Carl’s chest burst with pride every time he pulled into the driveway. Mom hadn’t lived an easy life, hadn’t always made the best decisions. As a young boy, he’d witnessed more trauma than any child should.
When he was ten, a rough and tumble group of men had arrived at the house they’d lived in with Grandpa. Mom yelled for Carl to run, so he’d sprinted to the neighbor’s house where he found his grandfather visiting. By the time they’d gotten back to the house, his mom had been brutally beaten and raped.
Twenty years later, he couldn’t release his guilt for not doing enough. He didn’t know what else he could have done at his young age, but he’d failed to protect his mother. It’s why he worked for pennies at the shelter when security firms sought him out for his military training. His job wasn’t about the money—it was about protecting women who deserved better in life.
Because of a shelter similar to Hope House, his mom had gotten her life on track. It hadn’t been easy and had required separation—his grandfather held custody of him for three years after the ordeal—but Mom had been sober for almost twenty years now.
Ten years ago, after renting small homes and trailers, she’d purchased this little house on the outskirts of town. Two months ago, she’d made the final payment and owned the place free and clear. Mom was living proof of God’s power to transform a life. On his darkest days, he held that promise close.
The narrow driveway barely allowed for the width of his truck. Carl exited his vehicle and walked along the dried out, crunchy remains of dead grass, then stepped on the cement walkway he’d helped pour two years ago when he’d come home from serving in the Marine Corps for ten years.
Mom met him at the door, wearing a pink sweater, jeans, and boots. Despite the rough first half of her life, the years had been kind to her. She maintained a youthful appearance and people often confused them for siblings, understandable since she’d had him two days after her sixteenth birthday.
“How was church this morning?” She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.
“Great. You missed a good service.” He gave her a hug and walked her to the truck. “How was work?”
“Busy as usual.” She frowned as she buckled. “Two major accident victims came in. One couldn’t be saved.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s life as an ER nurse, though it never gets easier.”
He often wondered if her work gave her flashbacks to her time spent in the hospital or if it provided a mode of healing. There were lots of questions he wanted to ask her, especially since Luna had come into his life, but he didn’t want Mom jumping to conclusions.
In many ways, he was fortunate. Mom never pushed him to date, never hinted at wanting grandchildren, except on a few, rare occasions. She’d rushed into relationships all her younger life and had made it clear she’d rather Carl wait for the right woman than make the mistakes she had. Even if that meant waiting for grandbabies.
But just because she wouldn’t push him to be in a relationship, didn’t mean she wouldn’t pry every last detail from him if he even mentioned a woman in his life. If he brought up Luna, he doubted he’d keep his feelings hidden, and he wasn’t in the mood to play twenty questions. Somehow, though, he’d like to pick his mom’s brain, find out how he could relate to Luna and gain her trust after all she’d gone through. First, he’d have to figure out how to ask without rousing Mom’s suspicions.
They ran into a delay at the home store when the associates couldn’t locate the product. After twenty minutes, they found it on the sales floor. An honest mistake from all accounts, and it was still in the box. No harm, no foul. He didn’t aim to get anybody in trouble by complaining.
Once it was loaded, they stopped at the convenience store and bought frozen slushies to drink, in spite of the mercury topping out at forty.
Mom drew a long sip of hers. “I hope they never run out of lime.”
“I prefer old-fashioned cherry.”
“You always did.” Reaching across the cab, she turned up the heat. “Only we would drink slushies in the cold.”
“It’s our tradition.” He set his drink in the cupholder so he could navigate a sharp turn with two hands on the wheel.
“Speaking of tradition, are you coming for Thanksgiving this year?” Mom’s tone didn’t match the casualness of the question.
