A Child Under His Tree. Allison Leigh
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just no tactful way,” he went on. “You know. Asking.”
“Right.” Still breathy. Still faint. “I, uh, I—”
“Is he still in the picture?”
“Who?”
“Your husband.” He took a step back from the doorway, pulling one hand from his pocket and running it through his hair.
“I don’t have a husband!”
He didn’t look shocked. He just nodded and studied the toes of his boots for a moment. “I wondered if you’d split up after I saw your name on Tyler’s paperwork this afternoon.”
She pressed her shaking fingers to her temple. “Who, uh, who told you I was married? My mom?”
“Yeah. She told me you eloped after you went to Idaho. That you had a baby.”
Kelly’s eyes burned. Her mother was dead. She hadn’t been a part of Kelly’s life since Kelly walked out all those years ago. So why did her mother’s words and actions still have the power to hurt? Georgette hadn’t felt a need to make up a fictional husband when she’d had Kelly. But she’d created one when it came to explaining an illegitimate grandchild? “When did she tell you?”
“Doesn’t matter. A while ago.” He pushed his fingers through his hair again. “Look, I’m not trying to stick my nose where you don’t want it. I know this can’t be easy for you, coming back like this. Regardless of how tough things were between you, she was still your mom. I just wanted to tell you that if you need anything, just ask.”
Her nose prickled. She couldn’t seem to get a word out. She managed to nod.
“Well.” He took a step back. “It’s late. Watch for any increased tenderness or pain in your boy’s arm.” Caleb went down the porch steps, and she had the feeling he was anxious to get away. “The films looked good,” he went on, “but switching up the cast can still be jarring.”
Her tongue finally loosened. “I’m an RN. I know what to watch for.”
He stopped, obviously surprised. “You’re a nurse?”
She lifted her chin. “Don’t look so shocked. Even I managed to get an education.”
“That’s not why I—” He broke off. “I’m glad for you. I didn’t know nursing was something you were interested in. Doc Cobb never mentioned it.”
“I wasn’t interested. Or at least I didn’t know I was when I was his receptionist. And I didn’t know you were interested in pediatrics. Seems there was a lot about each other we didn’t know.” She smiled tightly. “Good night, Caleb.” She didn’t wait for a response.
Just shut the door in his face.
After a tense minute, she heard his truck engine start up, followed by the crunch of his wheels over the uneven, rutted drive as he drove away.
She shivered, leaning back against the door. “Oh, Mama. Why did you lie to everyone?”
What was worse? Admitting to everyone that it was a lie? Or admitting to Caleb the truth?
And why did she have to do either, when she was only there to bury her mother?
“Mommy!” Tyler’s sleepy voice came from the head of the stairs, and she quickly swiped her cheeks.
“What is it, buddy?”
He came down the steps. He was wearing his footy pajama pants but—as was typical—had pulled off the matching shirt somewhere along the way. Didn’t matter how chilly it was outside, her son liked wearing as little as possible when he slept. He was rubbing his eyes, and his hair stood up in a cowlick. “My stomach’s growly.”
She picked him up when he lifted his arms and smiled into his face. “I’m not surprised. You only ate half your supper.”
He wrapped his legs around her waist and leaned his head on her shoulder. “Can I have ice cream?”
“Not at this hour, bud.” She carried him into the kitchen. She’d spent two hours cleaning it, and there were still stacks of empty boxes and crates lining the small room. Among other things, her mother seemed to have become a pack rat.
Kelly set him on the counter next to the refrigerator and made him half a sandwich. “PB and J,” she said, handing it to him. “Plus milk.”
He swung his foot as he ate. “When do we get to go home?”
“In a few weeks.” She brushed down his hair again. He definitely needed a barber. “We’ve talked about it, remember? We’ll go home just as soon as we can.”
He nodded, licked his finger and drank his milk.
Love for him swelled inside her. She cupped her hand under his chin. “You know what?”
“What?”
She kissed his nose. “I love you.”
“To infinity and beyond!”
She smiled. “You betcha. Come on.” He’d finished his milk already. “Gotta brush your teeth again, then back to bed.” He wrapped his arms around her neck and circled her waist with his legs, clinging like a limpet as she carried him back upstairs.
“Can I have another story?”
She was a sucker where he was concerned. She rubbed her hand down his bare back. “A short one.”
The short story spread into two, then part of a third before his eyes finally closed and she was able to slide off the bed. She turned off the light and left the room, leaving the door ajar so she could hear him if he needed her.
She passed her mother’s room and hesitated at the closed door. She inhaled deeply, then quickly pushed it open. It was the first time she’d gone inside the room since her mother’s death, and she did so now only because she still needed to choose an outfit for Georgette’s burial. She’d promised the funeral home that she’d deliver it the next day.
The room hadn’t changed during Kelly’s absence, any more than Kelly’s bedroom had, except that like the kitchen, here too Georgette had stored dozens and dozens of containers. Empty shoe boxes. Empty plastic bags. Even empty coffee cans.
Kelly was going to have to clean up all of it before she could put the house on the market.
She opened the closet. Typically, there were only a few choices. For Kelly’s entire life, her mother had run her spit of land all on her own. She’d lived in jeans and boots. There was only one dress for those times when Georgette couldn’t get out of going to church.
Kelly pulled out the dress. Studied it for a long while.
Then she shook her head and hung it back up and chose a pair of clean jeans instead. Her mother was who she was. Burying her didn’t change that. The metal hangers squeaked as she pushed them on the rod until she found a decent plaid blouse. It was cotton and obviously new, judging by the tag still hanging from it.
She set it on the bed along with the jeans and went to the chest of drawers. Georgette Rasmussen had never owned lingerie. For her, underwear was underwear. Serviceable and plain. Kelly chose socks and cowboy boots. The only pair in the closet that weren’t run down at the heels. She bundled all of it together in her arms and turned to leave the room, stopping at the last minute to grab the small metal box sitting on top of the chest. Her mother’s version of a jewelry box.
She left the room, closing the door firmly, and carried everything downstairs. She used a kitchen towel to polish up the boots as best she could. Shiny boots were another thing that Georgette had considered a waste of time, so Kelly knew better than to look for polish.
She set everything inside one of the plentiful boxes stacked around the room and flipped open the jewelry box. Her mother had only ever worn a plain gold chain necklace, but it wasn’t there.