Page 44 of Plunge

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Thistle

I DROP FLETCHER at Opal’s place and our goodbye feels awkward. We’ve had sex, but haven’t kissed or done much talking. Oh, and we got married. I drive off thinking we should have discussed the particulars of that arrangement.

I’m not interested in telling people, and I was pretty sure he felt the same way until he got all jealous when I was talking to Sebastian of all people.

I park outside my parents’ house and remember I have Sebastian’s card in my purse. I make a mental note to reach out after the ambush I know is waiting for me inside. I texted Archer some random excuse about walking out of work and let Mom know she shouldn’t wait for me for dinner.

I never even got a response from her. Part of me fears I’ll walk inside and find her injured on the floor, but that concern is quickly put to rest when I hear the loud music coming from the kitchen.

I park in the driveway and crack open the side door and find Mary Pat and her friend Kathy dancing around the kitchen with wooden spoons. My mom sits on a bar stool smiling and laughing. When she sees me, she points and says, “You’re back!”

And then we all cheer because she got the phrase right. Rose Mitchell sashays up to me and hands me a glass of wine. “We’re all in here celebrating,” she says.

I raise a brow, wondering when they’re all going to start nagging me for being irresponsible and ditching them without notice. “What’s the occasion?”

Rose points her glass toward my mom. “You tell her, Teresa!”

Mom beams. She takes a deep breath, like she’s concentrating, and says, “I can drive again.” Mom, with the sporadic help of her tablet, explains that she’s got enough range of motion and reaction time in her right leg that she got cleared to drive the station wagon again. Mary Pat holds up the disability placard Mom gets to put on her rear-view mirror, too.

“Hey, that’s awesome!” And I really mean it. I’m glad she has this increased level of independence and I know how stinking hard she’s worked to get here. “Let’s dance, Mom.” I toss my coat and purse on the counter and tug her up from her stool.

The ladies are playing some James Taylor music from way back and we all sway around the kitchen with our wine glasses while some sort of lentil stew simmers on the stove. This is probably the most love and warmth I can remember being in this house.

Somehow, it makes me feel better about everything. Like maybe this visual reminder that my mom has support translates into support for me as well. I sigh and lean against the counter, sipping my drink when the song changes.

Mary Pat shoos me off to change into something more comfortable while she dishes up the stew and Kathy pulls some bread out of the oven. I return to the table in my sweats to find them all staring, waiting, with the music turned down.

“Sooo,” Rose begins. “Archer said you left work early…”

Ah hell. I shake my head and clear my throat. “I drove Fletcher to an appointment in Philadelphia.” Remembering the business card in my bag, I quickly add, “I was meeting with a business associate anyway, so I thought I’d save Fletcher the train fare.”

The room goes quiet and I take the opportunity to dig into my stew, hoping the ladies will move on and discuss something else. Something like my mom’s epic day or Kathy’s new grandkids or anything else, really.

But this is Oak Creek and I’m still the girl who got pregnant despite having nice parents. I wonder if Fletcher gets this sort of treatment when he goes home. Probably explains why he doesn’t come home much.

“So, you and Fletcher spent some time together?” Rose leans forward on her elbows, fiddling with a set of silver bangles on one trim wrist.

I nod and swallow a bite of stew, remembering the hot feel of Fletcher’s cock in my mouth a few hours before. I cough. “We talked,” I say. “It was good.”

There’s a long pause then while Rose furrows her brow and spins the bangles on her arm some more. “Good,” she says. “You two needed some closure I imagine.”

I never thought I’d want to change the subject and tell this room full of women about work drama, but here we are. I’d rather discuss the implosion of my professional life than revisit my past with Fletcher. I clear my throat. “So, Mom…ladies, I need to tell you all something.”

Their brows shoot up and they wait, chewing.

“I wasn’t actually able to get this much time off to stay home and take care of you, Mom. They put me on unpaid leave and got a consultant to fill my job.”

Mom clutches at her chest above her heart and Mary Pat throws a napkin across the table. “That’s some kind of bullshit,” she says. “What about family leave?”

I shake my head. “I looked into all of it. But I’ve got some savings and I’m working with Archer for the time being.” I trail off, telling them I’m looking into my options and now that Mom is doing better, I can really focus on my future and what I want to do.

They all start offering their sympathy and reassuring me that I did a good thing in staying home to help anyway, and even though I wasn’t really searching for their approval, I realize as they’re handing it out that it feels nice to receive it.

“Stop by the house this week, Thistle,” Rose says, pouring me another drink. “Let’s see if I know anyone, ok?”

I nod and tell her, truthfully, “I’d like that.”

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