Chapter 16 - The Future She Left Behind

Katelyn cut through Sadie’s yard, stopping to sniff a yellow bloom on the rosebush along the side of the house. In Victorian times the yellow rose symbolized jealousy and infidelity, but on this sunny day Katelyn chose to believe in its modern-day representation of joy, friendship and affection.

With the lingering scent of citrus in her head, she continued down the sidewalk, her gaze swinging from side to side, seeing her hometown in a different light. She passed the park where she’d hung out with friends, and noticed the black-eyed Susans were still there baking in the hot sun.

Across the street an ugly gray cat licked its paw as if it didn’t have a care in the world. She cut through the parking lot of the shopping center, where a man’s shoe rested next to the Dumpster behind the hardware store. Who had left it behind? For the second day in a row the same motor home sat in front of the Buy & Bag. Did it belong to a family? A retired couple? How many miles across this country had the RV traveled?

Why had Katelyn believed there’d been nothing of value to sketch in Little Springs? All kinds of ideas came to mind as she hurried to the grocery store, and she scolded herself for making excuses not to draw.

The Entenmann’s delivery truck sat parked by the loading dock in the alley and as she walked by, Brian stumbled out of the vehicle, shoving the tail of his blue short-sleeved shirt inside his navy shorts.

“Didn’t you deliver a bunch of Whoopie Pies yesterday?” Katelyn asked, noticing the way he avoided eye contact with her.

Right then Layla stepped into view and smoothed her hands down her wrinkled work smock.

Keeping a straight face, Katelyn held the back door of the Buy & Bag open and whispered, “You’ll want to fix your false eyelash.” The long black fringe stuck to Layla’s eyebrow. “It looks like you’ve got a centipede crawling across your face.”

Layla checked her reflection in the mirror inside her locker.

“Dare I ask what you two were doing in the back of the delivery truck?”

“We had our first kiss.”

“That must have been some kiss if it knocked your eyelash off.”

Layla smiled. “He’ll get better with practice.”

“I thought you were waiting for your knight in shining armor to whisk you away from Little Springs.”

“I am.”

“Then why are you and Brian kissing?”

“Abby’s right. He’s a nice guy.” Layla flipped her hair over her shoulders. “Brian is Mr. Right Now. I’m still waiting for Mr. Forever.”

“You’re using him?” As soon as the words left Katelyn’s mouth, she wished she could call them back. She was a hypocrite—love hadn’t been the sole reason she’d married Don.

“I made it very clear that we can only be friends,” Layla said.

“You two ready to clock in?” Walter poked his head through the doorway. “Abby could use some help. We’re backing up at the registers.”

Layla shook her head after Walter disappeared. “Backing up means three people waiting in line.”

“Are you going to introduce Brian to Gavin?”

“I invited him to Gavin’s soccer game tonight.” Layla raised a hand. “I know I said Brian is Mr. Right Now, but I don’t think Mr. Forever will find me anytime soon. No matter what happens between me and Brian down the road, he’s the kind of guy who’d make a great friend, and I see him hanging out with me and Gavin a lot.” Layla closed the locker. “Why don’t you bring Birdie and your mother-in-law to the game? Abby will be there with her father.”

“That sounds like fun.” Maybe Katelyn would find inspiration for a future painting.

* * *

“Isn’t it too hot to sit outside and watch a soccer game?”

Katelyn ignored her mother’s burning stare and wished she were strangling Shirley’s neck and not the steering wheel. Shirley hadn’t stopped complaining since they’d left the house twenty minutes ago. “The sun will set soon.” Because of the heat, summer sports events were held at night beneath the lights.

She turned into the community center in Pecos. For a small-town soccer game, the lot was crowded. They piled out of the car and Katelyn couldn’t help staring at Shirley’s hair. The spiked style and the reddish blond color were a shocker.

“You don’t like it?” Shirley touched her head self-consciously.

“I do like it,” Katelyn said. “I never pictured you as a redhead, but the color complements your complexion.”

Shirley’s face brightened.

Guilt jolted Katelyn. She’d been at odds with her mother-in-law for years and rarely flattered her. Maybe if she’d made more of an effort to say something nice about her once in a while, the two of them would have gotten along better.

“Ginny says the style makes me look younger.”

“She’s right.” Katelyn ignored Birdie’s snort as they walked over to the bleachers. “I see Abby.” She pointed to her coworker in the stands.

“Vern’s with her.” Birdie looked at Shirley. “Vern’s a minister. His wife, Elaine, passed away from breast cancer around Christmastime last year.”

“Glad you could make it to the game,” Abby said when Katelyn stopped at their seats. She smiled at Shirley. “You must be Katelyn’s mother-in-law.”

“Shirley Pratt.”

Vern stood, then offered his hand to Shirley. “Vern Wilkes.” He moved down on the bench and motioned for Shirley to sit next to him. “I bet Little Springs is boring as apple pie for someone from St. Louis.”

“I wouldn’t say boring, but the town is quiet.”

“I saw you eating at Ginny’s with Birdie the other day,” he said, “and you were a blonde. I’ve always been partial to redheads.”

Shirley blushed. “You don’t think it’s too short, do you?”

“The style is very becoming.” Vern leaned closer. “I’ve also always been partial to sassy women.”

Shirley opened her mouth, then snapped it closed. She’d finally met someone who rendered her speechless.

“I can’t remember the last time a high-society lady like yourself visited our town,” he said.

Shirley sat up straighter and patted the air around her head. It would take time for her to get used to losing her puffy hair.

“I heard you met the Little Springs Ladies’ Society this morning,” Abby said.

Shirley shot Birdie the evil eye. “I’m lucky I didn’t leave Sadie’s salon bald.”

Vern tipped his head back and laughed. “I appreciate a woman who tells it like it is.”

Birdie and Abby quirked their eyebrows at each other and Katelyn sensed the two had hatched a secret plan without speaking a word.

“I’m hungry for a hot dog.” Vern stood. “Can I get you ladies anything from the concession stand?” When no one spoke up, he looked at Shirley. “Maybe a soft pretzel?”

“No, thank you.”

“You’re not worried about your waistline, are you?” he said.

Shirley gaped at Vern.

“You’re a little on the slender side.” He smiled.

After Vern left the stands, Birdie nudged Shirley. “I told you that men appreciate a woman with some meat on her bones.”

“I shouldn’t have allowed Sadie to cut my hair,” Shirley said. “This style makes me look like a hussy.”

“I’ve had short hair since Katelyn turned three,” Birdie said, “and no man has ever called me a hussy.”

“That’s because you don’t wear any makeup. If not for your bosom, men wouldn’t know that you’re a lady.”

Katelyn sucked in a sharp breath.

“You don’t think I’m a lady?” Birdie leaned around Abby and raised her voice. “I’ll drop my drawers and show you my cooter.”

The giggling teenagers two rows away turned to stare and Katelyn wanted to fall through the crack in the bleachers.

“That’s disgusting, Birdie,” Shirley said.

“Disgusting is you thinking you’re better than everyone else.”

Abby stood. “I’ll see if my father needs help.”

At this rate Birdie and Shirley’s bickering would empty the stands before the end of the first soccer period.

Shirley poked a finger in her chest. “I’m the only one who has any class in this . . . this . . . shantytown.”

What happened to Shirley and Birdie being best buds the past few days? Katelyn handed Birdie a twenty. “Go buy us some nachos.”

“Spicy food is bad for my digestion,” Shirley said.

“What’s the matter? You afraid you might break wind?” Birdie stormed off.

“Your mother can be so crass. It’s no wonder you wanted to leave this place.”

“Be careful what you say about my mother and my hometown.” No one in Little Springs had a pedigree like the Pratt family, but Birdie’s neighbors and friends were decent, caring people.

Shirley jutted her chin. “I want to go back to St. Louis. Tomorrow.”

“On my mother’s birthday?”

“She won’t care.”

Katelyn’s gaze zeroed in on Birdie chatting with Vern at the snack shack. Her proud mother would never admit it, but taking a break from the Buy & Bag had lifted her spirits. Since Katelyn and Shirley had arrived eight days ago, Birdie had been acting more energetic and upbeat than at any other time when she’d visited her. The thought of her mother having to go back to work bothered Katelyn in a way it hadn’t before. Birdie had held down a full-time job her entire adult life, while her daughter had lived in the lap of luxury.

“I don’t care about your mother’s birthday party,” Shirley said. “I have nothing in common with her friends.”

Katelyn stared Shirley in the eye. “I thought you were enjoying getting to know the ladies’ society.”

“They’re unsophisticated and boring.”

Birdie and her friends were far from perfect, but Shirley was no prize, either. “They might not use their manners all the time or shop at Dillard’s and Nordstrom, but they have each other’s back when things go wrong. Where were your friends after Robert died?”

Shirley pretended to follow the play on the soccer field. “Successful people lead busy lives.”

Bull.

Birdie returned with a tray of nachos and convinced Shirley to eat one. Katelyn exhaled a sigh of relief when the two women engaged in a civil conversation. Layla waved at Katelyn from several rows away where she sat with Brian. They made a cute couple—maybe with time Layla would give Brian the chance he deserved.

Speaking of men who deserved second chances . . . Katelyn’s gaze skipped across the field and landed on Jackson, who stood behind the perimeter fence. She nudged her mother. “Why is Jackson here?”

Birdie looked across the field. “He comes to most of the games like everyone else in Little Springs.”

So why wasn’t he sitting in the stands? His baseball cap shielded his eyes from view, but Katelyn sensed he was watching her and not the game. She reached for the sketch pad in her purse. Birdie and Shirley’s conversation faded along with the cheers of the spectators. Only the skitch-skitch sounds of the pencil dragging across the pad resonated in her mind.

Jackson stood in the shadows, looking lonely and isolated. The tip of her pencil pressed harder against the paper as if sheer willpower could draw him into the stadium light spilling onto the field. Then without warning he turned and walked to his pickup, parked on the side of the road.

Her pencil froze.

Only after the red taillights disappeared from view did Katelyn sense someone else watching her. She glanced through the crowd and her gaze collided with Vern’s. His assessing stare carried a message she couldn’t decipher.

“What’s going on between you and Jackson?” Birdie whispered.

Katelyn looked at her mother. “Nothing. Why?”

“You were down by the tracks with him.”

“Are you having me followed?”

“Mr. Petty saw Jackson’s pickup parked on the dirt road behind the tracks.”

“We were catching up, Mom.”

“Exactly how far do you two plan to catch up while you’re here?”

Katelyn wasn’t used to Birdie poking around in her business. She couldn’t very well confess that before she’d drifted off to sleep last night, she’d fantasized about having a hot, messy fling with her former boyfriend.

“Jackson’s not the same young man you had a crush on in high school.”

“He told me about his drinking.”

“Then you know he followed in his father’s footsteps.”

“Jackson’s not like his dad. He stopped drinking.” Cut the guy some slack. He had a tough childhood.

“Whether he takes a drink or not, he’s still an alcoholic,” Birdie said. “You should focus on the future rather than relive your past.” She tapped a finger against the pad in Katelyn’s hand. “This is the first time I’ve seen you draw since you left for college.”

“I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately, but I have this insane urge to sketch everything I see.”

“You always wanted to have your work in an art gallery. Maybe you should turn those sketches into paintings.”

“First I need to figure out what I’m going to do after the divorce.”

Birdie’s smile faltered. “Don’t end up like your mother.”

“You mean having to get a job and work?”

“No, I mean don’t give up on your dreams.”