Page 2 of The Bride Auction

“Darla, will we have enough money to pay the bills this month? According to the forecast, this winter is supposed to be one of the coldest on record. We don’t have a fireplace, and space heaters only go so far.”

I heard my mother reply, sadness changing her voice. “We’ll make do, John. We always do.”

I never wanted to be a burden on my parents. I know my coming back led to a lot of their financial troubles. Deep down, I knew the accident wasn’t my fault, but I still felt responsible. If I hadn’t insisted that David come back to meet my family none of this would have happened. If I hadn’t insisted that my father drive because I didn’t own a car, maybe I would still be in one piece, my father would still be in one piece, and David would still be alive.

I tried the pragmatic approach of “Life happens. It is what it is. Chin up and move on,” but it didn’t work. Guilt weighed on my mind.

Though I knew it was wrong, I stood in the hallway to eavesdrop on my parent’s conversation. Money was tight, the whole family felt it, but listening to my mother and father talk, the dire straits we were in suddenly hit me. My sisters were too young to work, their job was to go to school, and my brother’s job and mine weren’t stretching enough. “We aren’t out of food, and we have plenty of blankets. We’ll make it through, we always do.” My mothers voice was low in an attempt to not wake my sisters.

I knew we had food since Mr. Johnson allowed me to bring home the food that was on the edge of spoiling or close to its expiration date. He and my mother had gone to school together. At one point they had dated, and I still believed that Mr. Johnson carried a torch for her. He wouldn’t let our family go hungry. I never shared with my parents where the food came from, only that I’d made it my responsibility to bring it home after my shifts. Always frugal, my mother had become a master at stretching food to feed her family of six.

I sat on the threadbare couch in the living room in the dark, my coat still wrapped around me for extra warmth. I listened to them talk about bills, mostly on my mothers side, and my father did his best to talk her off the edge. She must have looked at the clock and realized what time it was, that I was a little later than normal. I waited a few extra seconds after her last comment, got up silently and opened the front door again so she thought I came home for the first time. I hoped she didn’t realize I’d listened in.

“I’m home,” I called out from the doorway. I allowed the door to stay open a touch longer than it should have, letting precious heat escape as my mother rushed in to usher me in from the cold.

“Summer, I was a little worried about you with the weather. I’m glad you made it home okay.” Mom popped her head out the door. “I hope Sarah makes it home soon.”

I grinned and allowed her to pamper me by taking my coat and hanging it up. She rubbed my back in small circles the way she comforted me as if I were still a child. “Thanks, Mom,” I said. “My back started to hurt a bit on the way home, and I slowed down, but don’t worry, I made it,” I said.

“Obviously, you’re home. There’s soup on the stove and some hot tea on the table for you.”

“Thanks.” I flashed her grateful smile and walked into the kitchen. “Hi Dad,” I said, planting a kiss on his forehead. “How was your therapy today?”

He grunted. “Everyday is another day in the positive. I’m still above ground.”

“That’s true. I like the way you think.”

He flashed a grin so much like my own. “One day we’ll both be back to our fighting selves.”

I poured the tomato soup into a bowl and took my mother’s homemade croutons made from stale bread and plopped them in the soup to soak. “Dad, you know you’ve never fought a day in your life.”

His eyes flashed with mirth and he put on an affronted voice, “Doesn’t mean I couldn’t have!”

“Okay Dad.” As I ate my soup I told him about my day as was our family tradition. His laughter permeated the house when I told him about old man Morris buying yet another roll of toilet paper.

“A single roll?”

I nodded. “He buys them one at a time.”

Walking by, my mother shook her head. “He always did. I never understood the reasoning, especially if the storm was coming. Why would he buy only one when there are perfectly good multi-packs?”

I leaned in conspiratorially. “I think I figured it out. I think he likes the company. He comes in and chats for about a half hour with every purchase, then he meanders on to the grocery store or the butcher and does the same thing. Do you know he only buys one muffin at a time too?”

Dad snapped his fingers. “You know Summer, I think you’re onto something.”

I finished my soup and before I could stand to put it in the sink my mother whisked it away. She began cleaning the dishes. “I’ve got it sweetie, don’t worry. Why don’t you go upstairs, take a warm shower. I’ll put a heating pad on your bed. I’m not sure if Hannah is asleep yet, so try to be quiet.”

“Got it. Thanks Mom,” I said.

I walked slowly up the stairs and into the bathroom. Knowing what I knew now about the state of our family finances, I made sure my shower wasn’t overly hot, nor that I was in there for too long. I neglected to wash my hair because I didn’t want to go to bed with a wet head and I didn’t want to use the blow dryer in case it woke my sister up. I should have known that Hannah wouldn’t have been asleep. She was reading a book in the corner of her bed that she shared with our other sister, Gabby. I sat on my bed, looked at the mirror and brushed my hair, thinking of what else I could do to help out.

Chapter 2

Renick

“Renick, when you get a moment could you please come here?” I heard my human assistant, Leah, call from the other room. I pressed the button on the intercom. Is it an emergency? I'm in the middle of something.”

“No, it’s your mother.”

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