Page 20 of Her Summer Hope
She couldn’t do this.
“It’s easy to find. Head out on Highway 74 and watch for the signs. You can’t miss it.”
There was an opening where she could have said something. She wanted to. Every second that passed felt like a chasm of judgment and the longer it went on the worse it became until it was too late.
“Okay. See you then. Call if you have trouble finding the place,” he said, sounding a little uncertain at her silence, as if she might be a lunatic.
“Sure thing. See you then,” she managed to say before hanging up the phone with shaky fingers.
She took a deep breath, pushed her arms against her chest to stop the letdown reflex, and marched back into the office. The mechanic was sipping icy Coke from a water-beaded can and it made her thirsty.
“Four hundred dollars, waive the towing fee, and a ride home,” she said, sticking her chin out and feigning confidence. “And a Coke.”
The worst he could say was no. Actually, he could laugh in her face and take back his offer. That would be worse probably.
“You got a deal, missy. I’ll get my keys.”
∞∞∞
“I did it,” she said.
Helen passed Emmie to her as soon as she stepped through the door and she pulled the nursing cover out of the diaper bag. Em started chowing down immediately, pinching and squeezing her breast as though it were a particularly scrumptious cheeseburger.
“What?” Helen asked, taking a permanent marker from James before he could get the cap off.
“I called about that chef job,” she said, shame creeping up again. “I shouldn’t have done it. I knew it was wrong and I should have said something then,” she said. “In fact, I think I’ll call and cancel right now.”
She pulled her phone from her purse and unlocked it.
Helen snatched it from her hand.
“Helen!”
“Wait! Tell me what happened first.” The old woman took a seat after checking to make sure Ellie was still reading and that James and Jackson hadn’t gotten into the matches, the bleach, the scissors, the knives, or the fuse box.
“It’s some kind of place for wounded veterans to recover,” Madison sighed. “They need a chef for the evening meals. I can’t take the job. I’d be doing them a huge disservice.”
“Why? Veterans need to eat too…even wounded ones,” she said, straightening the sleeves of her sweater. “Especially the wounded ones. Make them up a big ol’ pot of soup. It’s good for the soul.”
Madison just stared at her. “Do you really think I can do this and not screw it up?”
“James!” Jackson yelled angrily from the dining table in the next room. “You screwed up my damn picture!”
Madison pinched the bridge of her nose. “I swear they’re parrots!” she hissed to Helen.
Helen nodded knowingly then pinched her lips. “What are you going to wear?”
“Oh man, I don’t even know. I’m still carrying this extra weight and nothing nice fits me right yet,” she said.
In the late days of her pregnancy and the early days of breastfeeding, she’d read hopefully about the magical weight loss properties of breastfeeding. Unfortunately, it seemed to have the opposite effect on her. She hadn’t lost any more weight than the initial ten pounds since Emmie was born. She was still twenty pounds heavier than she was supposed to be.
And that was using the upper limit of her healthy range.
She was trying to be forgiving of herself. She’d been through a lot after all, but it was hard, especially when she used to be a little proud of her figure.
She wasn’t delusional. She knew she was only average-looking, but having a nice firm body, even after three kids, had kind of made up for it.
Now, she was just average-looking and…lumpy. She wasn’t looking for a man, not at all, especially not a relationship. After Rob…well, she just couldn’t see herself wanting to be with anyone else.