Page 72 of Wanted

“Oh, I’d love to, but I’ve already eaten.”

She smiles brightly and tows me toward the door. “Coffee, then. My treat.”

Great. She probably knows I don’t have much freaking money. I’m instantly touched by her generosity and quest for companionship. When was the last time I sat down with my own mother for a meal, let alone simply a coffee? Injecting gratitude into my voice, I say, “Thank you.”

We’re seated on the patio at a small two-top.

“How’s your arm healing?” Nancy asks after we place our orders.

“It feels good. I have an appointment in two weeks to see about taking the cast off.”

“Do you need a ride?”

“Oh, um…” I fidget with the hem of my sweater. “I’m sure I can take Jude’s van.” Not that we’ve discussed my future needs much, but after this morning, I don’t think he’ll protest. Unless he needs it.

Her white hair swishes around her chin with a assertive nod. “Feel free to call me if plans change. I’m happy to help.”

“I appreciate that. I’m not used to having so many people around. It’s a little overwhelming,” I blurt. I fight the desire to curl in on myself and straighten my shoulders instead. Something about this woman’s presence encourages me to let go of the little insecurities I’ve developed over the years. The self-reliance, do-it-myself, and sarcasm are all products of my upbringing. A survival mode I was forced to become accustomed to.

Nancy laughs warmly. “They’re an eager bunch when they see a problem to fix. I bet if I locked them in an escape room, they’d find a way out in fifteen minutes.”

“They all seem to genuinely like each other. Whatever you did, you raised them right.”

She hums and leans back as our coffee is served.

“It wasn’t always that way. Goodness, those children fought dirty growing up. It’s a miracle nobody wound up in the hospital. The tempers on some of them, rightfully so for how horrible some of their parents were.”

“That must have been hard.”

“Damn right, it was hard.” Pride shines through her voice. “Parenting is supposed to be hard. That’s how you know you’re doing it right. If parenting is easy, your kids are lying to you or you’re lying to yourself.”

I sip my hot coffee while she continues.

“It’s easy to ignore your kids. It’s easy to pretend you don’t see something is wrong. It’s easy to send them to their room rather than work out the problem. The only easy part of parenting is loving them.”

“I think the proof is in the adults you’ve raised.”

“I’d like to think so.” She raises her cup to her lips. “Jude’s special.”

My throat convulses on a swallow. “He is.”

“He can be intense and withdrawn. I’m sure you know that.”

The porcelain handle of my mug is smooth beneath my fingertip. “He isn’t exactly secretive about it.”

“I don’t presume to know what your relationship entails, but I do know my son. If you find yourself needing a little space, well, like you said, there are a lot of us around who would be happy to help. It’s okay to take care of your needs too.”

The muscles surrounding my spine tense. “Jude’s been nothing but kind. Sure, he’s a little surly, but he’s respectful and a good, decent man.”

She raises her palm toward me. “Please don’t misunderstand. I love my son, and it thrills me as his mother to hear you come to his defense.” Her eyes twinkle, a secret knowledge brewing within the depths. “I’m trying to look out for you, too, Frankie.”

“Oh.” I sit back and brush a strand of hair away from my lips. “I’m doing okay. I’m happy where I am.”

“Good. I’m glad to hear that. When Jude told me about the woman he found alone on his property, well, I’m sure you can understand I had concerns. For you. I can only imagine the kind of scenarios that landed you in your situation.”

The sting of tears irritates my lash line. The motherly concern emanating from this woman feels like the warmest blanket after a night in the cold. It’s foreign, yet it speaks to a deep part of me. Something I’ve kept buried for so long.

My voice fails me. I manage a weak nod.

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