Page 17 of Love and Other Lost Things

“You’re forty-eight.”

“I pulled a muscle climbing out of the rowboat at the lake. The last time Dad wanted me to go with him. It acts up sometimes.”

Jane huffed. Mom hated the lake. Hated boating and was afraid of the water. Dad usually let her stay home, said he couldn’t relax with her shaking like a dying fish on the bench next to him. But every once in a while, he used to drag her along. Jane knew it was to prove to Mom that he was in charge. That he had the power to make her go. And maybe he liked watching her shake like a dying fish on the bench next to him.

Jane pressed a hand to her temples, surprised by how quickly the bitterness rose up in her, eclipsing any compassion she might have felt for Mom’s pain. It was just more proof that Jane was doing the right thing, leaving Matteo like this, even if it felt daunting, and terrifying, and sometimes nearly impossible. She never wanted Scarlett to look back on her childhood the way that Jane did. To remember that her mother got in that boat, even though she couldn’t swim, because Dad told her to.

She never wanted Scarlett to think that was what love looked like.

Jane had already given too many years of her life, too many years of her daughter’s life, to a man just like her father. She set Mom’s gift in front of Scarlett and watched her daughter’s eyes light up. Maybe for today, they could just enjoy this. Pancakes and presents and Scarlett being a kid.

Scarlett tore off the shiny silver paper, revealing the gift beneath. The Barbie Dream House Lego set. “Oh, Grandma, I love it!” Scarlett clambered to her feet and threw herself in her grandmother’s direction. “Thank you!”

“Careful, Grandma has a bad back,” Jane called, but halfheartedly, because Mom’s face was shining as brightly as Scarlett’s as she wrapped her arms around the girl and pulled her in tightly.

“Can I put it together now, Mommy?” Scarlett asked, jumping up and down.

Jane nodded, but as Scarlett turned back to admire all the colorful photos on the side of the box, her heart twisted. They might not be able to take a Barbie Dream House with them when they left. It was too big, and it would draw too much attention. Jane didn’t know yet if they’d have a car.

But she’d face that soon enough. For now, she’d let Scarlett enjoy the moment.

Scarlett tore into the box, and soon she was blissfully buried in a pile of tiny plastic blocks and miniature Barbie figurines. Jane was just finishing her pancakes when Mom reached under the tree and produced a small red envelope. Wordlessly, she passed it to Jane.

“Oh,” Jane said, turning the folded paper over in her hands. She should have thought to pick up something for Mom when she’d stopped in Ford’s last night. One of those pine-scented candles. Or a card, even.

Jane trembled at the memory of those brief moments in Ford’s. She’d barely been able to remember her own name when Nik had walked in. And then he’d cornered her in the far aisle of the store, towering over her like a California redwood, all broad shoulders and long limbs. His hand sliding across her cheek had haunted her dreams last night. Jane couldn’t remember the last time a man had touched her like that. With such gentleness and care.

The last time might have been the last time Nik had touched her.

Jane dragged herself back to Mom’s living room. When she looked up, Mom was watching her, head cocked. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Jane sat up straight. “I’m sorry, we left LA so quickly, and I didn’t bring you anything…”

Mom waved it off. “You did. You brought—” Her attention shifted to Scarlett on the floor and her lips tugged into a wistful smile. “And you. You’re the best gifts I could ask for.”

Jane didn’t answer, sliding a finger under the flap to open the envelope instead.

Inside was a basic Christmas card with a photo of Santa sitting next to a tree, the kind printed on slightly flimsy card paper that comes in a multi-pack. Mom used to buy piles of those cards to send to their neighbors and acquaintances in Linden Falls. She’d tuck a family photo inside with the date scrawled on the back. On the card, she’d print, Love from Chief McCaffrey and family. Jane and Mom didn’t even get to have their full names in that card. It was all about Dad.

It was always all about Dad.

The inside of this card was blank, though, other than the printed Merry Christmas sentiment. But a slip of paper slid out and fell into her lap. Jane picked it up. A check with Jane’s name printed on the top line. Pay to the order of. Then she focused on the amount.

Five thousand dollars.

Her gaze flew to Mom. “What?”

“For you. And Scarlett.”

“I—” Jane opened her mouth to say she couldn’t accept it. That she didn’t need Mom’s money. But the words would be a lie. She desperately needed every dollar that would help her escape Matteo. But— “I can’t.” Jane held the check in Mom’s direction. “You’ll need this to fix up this old house. If you decide to move?—”

Mom folded her hands in her lap. “Your dad had a good pension and some retirement savings. I’ll be fine.”

Jane stared down at the check. Before she could answer, Mom continued. “You could use it to hire an attorney. Someone who specializes in cases like yours. They could help you to leave Matteo and take full legal custody of Scarlett.”

Jane peeked at Scarlett who was engrossed in the Lego instructions and didn’t seem to be paying any attention. “We shouldn’t talk about this here,” Jane murmured.

Mom stood and picked up her coffee mug. “Why don’t we go and clean up the breakfast dishes?”

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