Lucas: An Army Wives Novel Page 4

Carrie bristled at my firm tone. “Mom would have helped me.”

  I sighed. “Carrie, you know I’m tired of that card.”

  She shrugged and set her lips in a defiant pout.

  “You’re only a year and a half younger than me. I think you forget that sometimes. Right now, I need your help here, dealing with all this,” I waved around the entryway. “I mean, God, Carrie, it’s like I’m a single father to four kids, well teenagers, and I’ve got everything from helping Ben pick out the right college classes all the way down to figuring out the right kind of cheer shoes to buy for Emmie and Lottie. It’s a lot to cope with.”

  Carrie softened her expression. “I know, Lucas. That’s why Mom left it all to you. She knew I wouldn’t be capable…”

  I grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her eyes to meet mine. “That’s not it. She knew you’d be here to help me. That’s all I’m asking for.”

  She nodded, but I couldn’t tell if I’d really gotten through to her. Before I could say anything else, Lottie charged back into the room, sloshing hot chocolate down the sides of the jumbo mug she held between her two hands. “Ouch!” She squealed, and I jumped into action to grab the cup from her before she dropped it to the ground. The cocoa was scalding hot and I bit back a string of swears as the burning liquid pooled in my hands.

  “Come here,” Carrie said, wrapping an arm around Lottie who’d begun to cry at her burnt fingers. “Let’s go get you washed up.”

  When they were out of the room, I set the cup down on the end table by the couch, spun around on my heel, and rubbed the sting out of my fingertips. “Fuck!” I hissed.

  “Heard that!” Spencer’s victorious tone came as he raced past me to go up the stairs.

  I squeezed my eyes closed. “No, you didn’t.”

  His laughter trailed off as he reached the top of the stairs.

  * * * *

  By ten o’clock, all the kids were in bed, asleep, and I finally got a moment of peace and quiet. I made a snack for myself, and went to my room on the second floor. A few weeks after moving into the house, I’d managed to convince myself to take over my mom’s old room. My furniture had been shipped up from Georgia—thanks mostly to Colton and Miles—and I’d finally had to break down and have my mom’s stuff moved into storage. Neither I, nor any of the kids, were ready to go through her belongings yet. It had been easier to have professional movers come in, box everything up, and take it to storage when the kids had all been out of the house at summer activities.

  Months later, the room still didn’t feel like mine. It had been repainted and contained all of my furniture from my home back in Georgia. I wasn’t one hundred percent comfortable in it, but it was my only sanctuary from the house full of chaos.

  I set my plate down beside my computer and turned it on, preparing to find something mindless to watch online as I drifted off to sleep. When the computer loaded, I went through my normal routine on autopilot, checking through social media, in a weak attempt to keep up with my friends that I’d left behind in Georgia, and then pulled up my email inbox to make sure there wasn’t anything pressing, and lastly, went to check in on the single parenting forum I’d joined just over a month ago.

  I spent most days feeling like I was drowning in quicksand, and had found a solidarity on the website when I realized that I was far from being the only one who felt that way. There were stories that encouraged me, experiences that made me cringe and kept me up at night with worry about the road ahead—like when Emmie and Lottie started dating— and other times there were tips and ideas that I never would have thought of on my own.

  I’d shared my story and received a lot of sympathetic comments and offers to help, and after I worked through all the initial attention, I decided it might be best to hang back. So, most of the time when I logged in, it was only to comment on the threads that I followed, even though I didn’t feel I had much to offer in way of advice. I tried to cheer on the others. In war, it would have been like serving in the trenches together, only instead of being side to side, looking over the same mission, we were all separated by states—even countries—and each member had a different mission. However, there was a team spirit that I related to and tried to give back in exchange for the help and encouragement I’d found in the virtual club.

  I shoved a handful of popcorn in my mouth and clicked over to some of the threads that had new updates since the night before, when I’d last had a chance to log in. I perked at the bold print under one of my favorite threads:

  Single Mama Drama

  The author of the thread didn’t show her real name, but her handle was SunshineGirl, and I’d followed her since the first time I’d logged in. She had a lot of struggles, but somehow always managed to make me smile thanks to her colorful way of describing her daily events. I smiled as I read her latest post, and sent a quick line of encouragement back to her, joining in with the dozens of other replies that had already been posted.

  I’d been drawn into SunshineGirl’s profile mostly because of her profile picture, but had stayed because of her clever posts. She looked around my age, with fair skin, and light freckles across her nose and cheekbones, long, auburn hair, and dark brown eyes that held a spark of light. She only had the one picture posted, a selfie with just her face showing, and she never used her daughter’s full name, instead, choosing to call her “L” in all her posts. We’d never spoken directly to one another, but frequently posted messages on each other’s main threads.

  When I’d set up the account, meeting a woman had been the last thing on my mind, but when I found SunshineGirl, I’d have been lying if I said her beauty wasn’t a part of the reason I joined the site and logged in at least once a day to check messages. I’d posted a profile picture of myself and a group shot of me with the whole posse at a friend’s birthday party we’d gone to over the summer. It had been our first outing as a family, since our mother’s passing. The photograph had been captured at a moment when we were all smiling and content, on what had been a bittersweet day.

  After my message to SunshineGirl posted, I logged out of the forum and clicked around until I found a movie to watch, full well knowing that before it reached the halfway point, I’d be passed out across my bed. It had become a nightly routine. The days of going out to bars with Colton and Miles, staying out late, and bringing home a woman to spend the evening with, were so far in my rearview mirror, it made me wonder if more than just a few months had passed. It felt more like years.

  Chapter Five

  Isla

  “Mama, I want the pink shoes!” Lily wailed.

  I whipped around, working overtime to keep a smile on my face, as my daughter continued to toe the line of having a full on meltdown in the middle of the grocery store. After we loaded up with food for the week, I’d decided to check out the bargain bins in the clothing department, on the hunt for a new pair of shoes, as my black ballet flats that I normally wore to the office were rapidly falling apart. Lily had spotted a pair of pink sandals and began pitching a fit to get me to buy them for her.

  “Lily, I said no. Now, come on, we need to get back home so I can get to work on time.”

  I reached for her hand, but she bolted away from me and ran back to the end of the aisle. “Lily Jenkins!” I abandoned our shopping cart and chased after her. She giggled at me running after her, somehow mistaking my anger for play, and scurried around the next aisle.

  My heart rate rocketed inside my chest, not from running, but from the fury that was coursing through my veins. Lily was normally a very sweet, easy going four-year-old, but there were times when she turned from my little angel, into an absolute terror, and for whatever reason, those moments always seemed to occur when we were in the middle of a very public place.

  Luckily, I could still outsmart her.

  Anticipating her next move, I rounded the aisle from the opposite side and grabbed her before she could backpedal. “Stop it, Lily,” I scolded, tossing her onto my hip, before marching back to our cart.
“You’re going to your room as soon as we get home for a time out young lady.”

  Then the waterworks started.

  She wailed all the way out to the parking lot. I ignored the dirty looks thrown in my direction as I unpacked the groceries into the back of my car, leaving Lily to cry it out in the child seat of the shopping cart, before getting her into her booster seat in the back seat.

  Back at the house, I took her down to her room, and set the time out timer, before going upstairs and getting the groceries from the garage.

  “Where’s Lily?”

  I shut the refrigerator door and saw my dad as he entered the kitchen. He was dressed up, and I figured he was either going to some fancy corporate brunch. “She’s in time out,” I huffed, rounding the granite topped island to unpack the rest of the groceries into the pantry. “She threw a huge fit in the middle of the shoe department.”

  “I’m sorry, pumpkin.” My dad went to the fridge and poured a glass of iced tea from the pitcher my mom always kept stocked. “I’m sure it’s just a phase.”

  I sighed and shut the pantry door. “I hope so. It’s so embarrassing when she gets like that. Everyone stares at me like I’m the worst mother in the world…”

  “Well, you’re not. Don’t worry about those other people, pumpkin, they don’t know you. You’re a fantastic mother. Lily’s lucky to have you.” He squeezed me against his side.

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  “You working tonight?”

  I nodded and pushed my hair behind my ears. “Yeah, I have to be there at four. Are you going to be home?”

  “No, I’ll be at a work event all afternoon. Your mom should be home in time, but you might want to call her to make sure.”

  “Okay,” I replied, fishing my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans. I dialed my mom’s number and pressed the phone to my ear.

  As I waited for my mom to pick up, my dad added, “You know, my offer still stands, if you want to quit the bar job.”

  “Dad, it’s bad enough that you keep bailing me out on daycare and preschool bills. I need to be able to take care of these things by myself.”

  He held up his hands. “I know you want to do it all by yourself, but pumpkin, you gotta think about Lily too. She already misses you during the week. It would be nice if you could spend the whole weekend together.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Dad, I—”

  “Hey, Isla!” My mother answered before I could finish my thought, and I was glad for the distraction. I didn’t want to get defensive and angry with my dad. I knew he was only trying to help, but whenever he suggested things, it was hard not to take it personally, especially when I already felt under attack.

  “Hey, Mom, I was just calling to let you know I have to be to work by four tonight. Are you going to be able to watch Lily? Or should I call a sitter?”

  My dad took that as his cue and left the kitchen. I knew I’d have to finish the conversation later, but was relieved to have it off my plate for the moment.

  “I’ll be home in thirty minutes. I’m just at the craft store, about to check out. See you soon!”

  “Okay, thanks,” I hung up and stood at the island, tapping my nails. Lily hadn’t been in her room very long, but I figured I might as well give her a reprieve from time out, so that we could make the most of the few hours I had before I needed to leave for work. I knew she missed me, and I missed her too, but I was focused on building a future for the both of us.

  * * * *

  “Hey sweetheart, I need another!”

  I cringed at the call—and the cheers and catcalls that followed—and did my best to smile as I signaled to the rowdy trio of guys in the corner. They’d come in a little after I’d arrived, insisted on being sat in my section, and had been holding down one of my tables the entire night. They kept ordering drinks and food, and I knew they were racking up quite the bill. I was putting up with their nonsense because I knew that if I played it cool—I’d walk away with a nice tip.

  I grabbed refills for the table at the bar and took over the loaded tray. I dished out the drinks with a smile. “I figured you could use a refill too,” I said, to the guy on the left of the one who’d called out to me from halfway across the bar. “And I didn’t forget about you.” I set down the third glass.

  “Well, damn,” the loudest of the group declared with an impressed whistle. “Does your mind reading work in bed too?”

  The other two hooted and hollered as I blushed at his comment. I was used to it, working in the bar on the busiest night of the week, but it didn’t make it easier to brush off when someone really stepped over the line. I hated being regarded as nothing but a piece of ass that knew how to operate a beer tap. I’d worked at the bar for nearly three years, while I’d put myself through school, and when I landed the assistant job, I cut my hours back to just one night, to supplement and help me get out of debt.

  The men were still laughing and were too busy congratulating the main one on his clever joke to notice that I’d slipped away. I glanced up at the clock and sighed. I still had an hour and a half left before closing. How could a four-hour shift move so slowly?

  “You wanna take your break, Isla?”

  I turned at the suggestion and saw Meg, my manager, coming out onto the floor from the hallway that led to the restrooms and small back office. “Yeah, that would be great.”

  Meg nodded and took over the bar as I scurried to the back to get my purse out of the lockers kept for employees. I took my phone out of the outside pocket and shoved the rest back inside. I locked it and went out the back door to get some fresh air. It was crisp outside, but not so cold that I hurried back inside. At least it wasn’t raining.

  I sat down on the curb and flipped through my phone, checking my social media accounts. Most of my friends still lived in Florida and although we still kept up with each other over social media and the occasional text message, it was hard to relate to their lives. They were all my age, or in the young twenty ball park, but none of them had kids. So, on a Saturday night, they were the ones going to bars and clubs. Not working in them.

  Before finding out I was pregnant with Lily, I’d been working as a dancer for the Tigers, an indoor football team, and working towards auditioning for the Miami Heat dance team. Those plans had screeched to a halt the moment I saw the pink lines on the pregnancy test. Now, all I could do was watch from the sidelines as my friends went on to live out the dreams I’d wanted for myself. I found a couple of my friends that had been on the dance team with me and saw they’d been performing at a game. They were decked out in their outfits, hair done up, make-up dark and dramatic, and they were all smiling widely in the picture of them staged after the performance. My heart sank at the sight of them all living the life I’d worked so hard for.

  The life I’d traded.

  As I was reminiscing about it all, my dad texted a picture of Lily all tucked in bed, clinging her favorite princess doll against her chest. I smiled at the picture and wiped away the hint of bitter tears that had gathered in my eyes. She was worth it. I missed my old life from time to time, and it was impossible to keep myself from wondering what might have been, but at the end of the day, my life was Lily now.

  I texted my dad back to thank him for the picture and then stuffed the phone in my pocket as I raised up from the curb. My break was over and I needed to get back inside and hopefully corral the bawdy trio out the door.

  The rest of the shift dragged on and Meg finally ushered the group of guys out the front door into a waiting cab. Meg was good like that, calling cabs for people who’d had too much to drink—she’d even pay the cab fare. She’d said she didn’t want anyone in trouble after drinking her booze, and it made her feel better knowing they’d gotten home safe. Even as the three drunks were stumbling out, into the cab, they were still calling back to me as I watched out the window.

  “Pigs,” Meg scoffed.

  “Thanks for getting rid of them.” I dropped the mini-blinds and turn
ed to Meg who was wiping down the bar. “They were starting to drive me crazy.”

  “Starting?” Meg laughed. “I was ready to throw them out on their asses within the first thirty minutes.”

  I laughed and tossed my auburn hair up into a ponytail. Even when it was pulled back, it still reached halfway down my back. I hadn’t had a haircut in forever. It was a luxury that my insanely busy life didn’t afford. With working up to sixty hours a week between my two jobs, taking care of Lily, and doing everyday tasks like laundry, paying bills, grocery shopping, some things dropped off the list.

  “Hey, girl, you don’t have to stay. If you wanna split, it’s cool. Ty and I can tear down,” Meg said as I picked up a rag to wipe down the tabletops.

  I looked around the room. As always, it looked like the remnants after a Macy’s parade. Each table was littered with dishes, used napkins, and beer bottles. Ty, Meg’s husband, the owner of the bar, appeared from the back office before I could argue with Meg that I needed to stay and help out.

  “Isla, what are you still doing here? It’s almost eleven,” he said, smiling over at me. Ty was the one who had hired me and had always been the world’s best boss. Both him and Meg were always watching out for me. “Megs and I can get this one. Get outta here,” he smiled and waved a hand in the direction of the door.

  “But I—”

  “Isla,” Meg interrupted, shaking her head. “We got it. I already split the tips. Your cut’s at the end of the bar. Go get some rest.”

  I smiled and started towards the back to grab my purse. “God, I know there’re some bags under my eyes, but sheesh,” I teased as I passed them.

  “Goodnight!” they both hollered after me.

  * * * *

  “How was work?” My dad was propped at the island in the kitchen, in front of his laptop. He was wearing his glasses, which usually meant he was working.

  “Daddy, what are you still doing up?” I asked, turning to close the door that led into the small mud room space between the kitchen and the garage. I kicked out of my shoes, wishing for the millionth time that Lily had kept her peace long enough for me to find some replacements when we’d been out at the store earlier in the day.