Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Everything in my life was centered around “for now.” I hoped one day I wouldn’t have to be breaking the figurative speed limit to get through every day. I had no idea what it was like to have a day when I didn’t have to pray that I’d have no disasters, that I would have enough money to feed my child and myself, and that I could keep him safe and not be looking over my shoulder constantly. I liked it in Lomand. People were friendly but not intrusive. I had been lucky when I’d calculated how far I could go with bus fare and stepped into the little town. It, and the people, had been good to me, Mrs. Scott especially. Theo was never upset when I left him with her, and he thought of her little spare room as his second bedroom.
Mrs. Scott’s voice interrupted my musings. “Laundry, yes. And I was wondering if we could make some of that vegetable soup of yours. I’d like some for dinner this week.”
I made great vegetable soup, and Mrs. Scott loved it. So did Theo. I also made an awesome beef and barley, as well as a few others. The best part was how far I could stretch it on my budget.
“Sure. I’ll check the market and see what they have in this week.”
She shook her head. “I was there today. There’s an entire harvest in my kitchen. You come get it and make it.” She met my eyes. “That’s the deal.”
I gave in easily, because there was no point in arguing with her. “Okay. We’ll make a big batch tomorrow.”
Sunday was my one day off, and occasionally, I got another night, depending how busy Ziggy’s bar was. I worked from six to closing at Ziggy’s in Lakeside, except on Saturdays when I started at four. If I was lucky, I picked up shifts at Zeke’s here in Lomand, but those were harder to come by, and unless they were at night, my childcare cost me a bundle. I managed to make do every month and, thanks to Mrs. Scott’s trades and my tips, put a little aside for emergencies.
Mrs. Scott smiled at me. “You get your boy, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I went to the spare room and looked down at my son. His hair was similar to the color of mine, maybe a little darker, and he looked like me, except for his eyes. They were hazel in color—a mixture of his father’s and mine. That and his lean build were the only traits he had inherited, thank God. He was sunny and sweet and his patience seemingly endless.
Very un-Wayne-like. His temper was constantly ready to blow, and he thought patience was some sort of flower. How I had never seen his true nature until I was trapped was a mystery. But I had gotten out, and I never planned on going back.
I lifted Theo, burying my nose in his hair. He smelled like bubble bath and little boy. My little boy. I loved him so much my heart threatened to burst with it. Carefully I carried him to the hallway, pausing in the doorway before I shut Mrs. Scott’s door.
“Thank you.”
She smiled. “Goodnight, dear. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I nodded and carried Theo up the steps, his body a dead weight in my arms. I wasn’t sure how much longer I would be able to do this, but I hated the thought of waking him to move him to his own bed. At five, he was growing like a weed, and I knew the day would come soon I wouldn’t be able to lift him, but I could still manage. I tucked him in and gazed down at his sweet face, brushing the hair off his forehead. I bent low and kissed him then headed to my room.
I got ready and slid into bed, my body tired but my mind still wide awake. I had to fix the tire on the SUV. I needed it to get back and forth to work. Using the old iPad I had, I checked out the website for the garage the stranger had recommended. There was a picture of the owner, another huge man with a great smile. He was leaning against a red wall, the company logo over his head. His name, I surmised from the little I skimmed, was Maxx Reynolds. And he had two partners, a Brett Conner and a Stefano Borelli. I read a little more, flipping a few pages. The customer reviews were glowing. They offered classes for women, designed to answer questions and help them understand how their cars worked. The classes were free, but there was a waiting list for them. I filled out my information, using Mrs. Scott’s phone number. She allowed me to do that and save a monthly rental fee on a home phone I didn’t want. I never gave out my cell number unless I had no choice. The fewer people who had that number, the better. I rarely got calls on her line, but if one came through, she passed on a message. Luckily, she had Wi-Fi and let me use it as well, so I had email I could get on the old tablet I had. That was about all it was good for. I filled in that information as well and decided I would take my car to the garage and get it fixed. I looked at the card, the memory of those dark eyes and teasing mouth coming to mind. Given his physique, he must work out with the owner of the shop at the same gym, which would explain how he knew them. There were other pages about motorcycle restoration, but I had no interest in that, so I signed off. I would call in the morning and ask for a quote on replacing the tire.