Worth Any Risk

Ch. 21 Courage by the Grave

*Jordan

The bright green tree leaves that the children collected are strewn across the table. We ran out of time to glue them all and clean up, so I promised the kids we could do some more next week when they come back. I pick up the pages with leaves on them and stack them carefully on the long cabinet that runs under the windows so they can dry. They wrote their names in big, goofy letters in crayon—sometimes misspelling them, and I admire them for a moment.

What did Emma's handwriting look like now?

My chest aches, worse than when Brandon sucker-punched me. That was nothing compared to what Trey did.

What does she look like, now at five? One year older than my group this afternoon, but still a baby in so many ways. Does she clutch her crayons in her fist still, or is she picking up fine motor skills? Does she stick her tongue out when she concentrates, or frown in utter seriousness at her work? Or is she like the ones whose faces light up in happiness the second they sit at the table to draw and write?

Who is my baby?

Where is she?

A hand drops on my shoulder and I spin, stumbling backwards in fear.

"It's okay, it's me," my coworker Kevin says, alarmed. "Are you all right? I called your name twice and you didn't move. I thought maybe you were having some kind of attack." He narrows his eyes in concern. "Are you all right?"

"Kevin." I try to catch my breath. "I'm fine. I was thinking about things, and I didn't hear you."

"Sorry to scare you like that. You were hunched over, though and didn't respond. But you're good?"

The poor guy looks like I almost gave him a heart attack. Which is what he almost did to me. In that short moment with his hand on my shoulder, I thought it was Trey, back to finish the job he started. The last morning I saw him—when Emma wouldn't stop fussing because of her teeth—that morning he said he would kill me if I didn't go to the store for his lunch. Without Emma.

I knew something was wrong. I knew I shouldn't leave her screaming in her crib. But I also knew he would kill me if I didn't go.

"I'm fine," I say, making myself smile to reassure Kevin. He's only started recently, but I've worked with his wife for years as an assistant during my schooling, and they are an adorable, caring couple. I don't want to ruin his evening over a misunderstanding. "I've got a million things to take care of in the next couple of weeks. And, on that note, I'm getting out of here to go home. I'll see you tomorrow."

He says goodbye and walks out, backwards, as if still worried I might keel over in a faint. I finish straightening the playroom, there isn't much, but I linger. The longer I look at the drawings and toys, the clearer it becomes that I won't have the courage to give my notice in a day or two.

Which means I will have to find the courage to tell Cole I can't leave with him. Which will be impossible. My legs barely support me as I turn out the lights and lock the door.

I climb into my car, fiddle with the radio, and finally decide to turn it off. All the songs grate on my nerves, and I need to get my heart in line with my decision to let Cole go. The setting sun is to my right, glancing off my dashboard and hood, almost too bright in my eyes. I forgot my sunglasses after my encounter with Cole in the car-port, and I have to squint.

A wooden sign comes into view, as it does every day on my way to and from work. Green Valley Cemetery, where my mother is buried. A strange twist of fate put my mother's grave one row down from Trey's grandparents' headstones, and later his father was buried next to them. I have hating visiting her for years, only going when I know the flowers need tending. Before I realize what I'm doing, I've turned onto the narrow lane and driven under the arched, iron gateway and into the cemetery.

It's a short walk from the parking lot. My shoes crunch on the gravel and few birds sing, but otherwise, silence accompanies me. It's funny how the hum of passing cars is deadened withing the cemetery grounds. As I reach my mother's tombstone, my gaze strays to Trey's father's. Plastic flowers, as always, decorate the bottom. They have faded with the sun.

I heave a sigh. Plastic. Trey's mother, Jo-Beth, is too much of a bitch to leave it empty, and too hateful to give him real flowers. I kneel at the foot of my mother's grave, at the grassy edge of the path. Daisies nearly cover her name and a riot of weeds grow under the blooms. I should come more often.

I won't come at all if go with Cole.

An invisible blow to my chest forces me back on my heels. I gasp for air. I really can't leave with him.

Worse—I must be insane for even considering it, for agreeing to go. He walked into my life four days ago and I said I would give up everything I have to leave with him? I have lost my mind.

"Mom," I whisper, but can't continue. I rub my chest.

She raised me to believe in taking care of others, of helping and supporting those around you. And she was the rock I leaned on, without even knowing it when I was little. Nearly two decades spent fending for myself since she left me had almost stripped me of those ideals. When she died, I was still practically a baby. God. I was only nine. At ten and twelve, Amber and Reese didn't stand a chance to replace her for me, not to mention taking care of themselves. But our dad expected us to stand on our own feet and not bother him. Or he'd start breaking things.

I was just getting used to standing on my own, going to work, watching my finances, living in my home, and taking care of the kids in need at my work, when Cole breezed into town and knocked me sideways.

He was nothing but trouble when we were younger, and he's been nothing but trouble for me since he got here on Thursday. My pulse quickens as nausea pools in my stomach.

I must truly be insane. I would be giving up my house and my job to be completely dependent on a man who has never been reliable for anything but skipping out of town when things get tough.

"You're right, mom. I have to take care of people starting with me and my daughter." Tears fill my eyes. I have just found the courage I need to do what it is right for me. I stumble back to my car and pull out of the cemetery as fast as I can. I'll come back to pull weeds this weekend.

The glare of the evening light is in my eyes for the drive again. My phone rings and, one handed, I lean over to dig through my purse. I won't answer while I'm driving, but if it's Cole, I can pull over at a gas station. I'm already planning what to say.

I can't feel the phone, though, in the mess of my bag. The road is straight and there aren't any cars coming, so I glance down. It's on the seat under the bag. The caller has hung up, and I press the side button to light up the screen.

Cole called me—several times. Shit. I didn't notice while I was working with the kids. He knew I was at work, he wouldn't call if it wasn't important...

A blaring car horn and the screech of tires rips my attention to the road. I'm in the other lane and I swerve just as another car looms in front of me. My car spins out of control and off the road. The last thing I see is my fender slamming into a sign, knocking it over. The airbag explodes on my face, sending a shock of pain through my body. I can't breathe.

The world goes black.

*** Thank you as always for reading!!! Hit the star and have a lovely day/evening. ***