Page 64 of Deserter

If I had any illusions about how powerful of a man Jamie was, they were shattered by the end of the day. Men came and went for the better part of the afternoon, delivering furniture, hooking up the telephone; a few even stocked the fridge with food and beer.

I’d made myself scarce while they moved in and out of the house, wondering what it was Jamie expected from me. Lucy said when Wolverine ran things that she’d been tasked with keeping the other Ol’ Ladies in line and ensuring that any drama stayed away from the club.

Up until now, my job had consisted of going to school and earning good grades. I’d never had to consider grocery shopping or meal planning; and I’d certainly never managed grown women.

Given my frosty reception at the gathering, I had a sneaking suspicion that no one was going to listen to a seventeen-year-old girl—even if she was involved with the club president.

With the exception of Lucy, Betsy had been the only other person to show me kindness. I made a mental note to invite her over once we were settled and get her thoughts on the club and the other women.

By late afternoon, the men had finished up and the house was quiet. As much as I wanted to curl up on the new bed for a nap, my work was just beginning.

I wasn’t entirely unfamiliar with the concept of cooking; I just hadn’t taken the time to learn how to make anything beyond Ambrosia salad and cocktail sausages in barbecue sauce.

My mother was the chef, managing multiple bubbling pots on the stovetop, while something delicious baked in the oven. I’d watch her while doing homework and wonder how she looked so graceful doing it. Where Yiayia had believed that cooking was a contact sport, Mama was methodical and her kitchen, pristine.

I snagged my purse and a spare key from the kitchen counter before heading out into the sunshine. I’d go get a few cookbooks and see what I could come up with

“Welcome to the neighborhood,” an older man called from across the street as he mowed his yard.

“Thank you,” I waved back, unable to wipe the grin off my face even if I tried. “You hear that, baby?” I patted my tummy. “We’re part of a neighborhood.”

I imagined summers spent on the front porch, watching our baby play in a paddling pool while visiting with the neighbors. Jamie would man the grill and talk sports over beers with their husbands. Mama and Daddy would come around once they saw how good we were together.

This was going to be a good thing for us.

Twenty minutes later, I was rethinking my decision to walk to the library. I’d gotten turned around three separate times and the sun that I’d welcomed, now beat down upon my face with brutality. A sticky trail of sweat ran along my spine and I wanted nothing more than to lie down in the shade.

There were probably libraries near Jamie’s house, but I yearned to see a familiar face. I needed just one thing in my life that hadn’t changed; just one thing that would remain the same.

A slight twinge of pain gripped my abdomen as I passed the tattoo parlor and I paused to lean against the worn brick. A drop of sweat fell from my forehead and onto the pavement.

My body was just reminding me to slow down.

That’s all it was.

I could’ve sworn I heard the distant rumble from a motorcycle as I took the remaining steps toward the library, but when I looked around, the street was empty.

Sharon, the afternoon librarian, looked up from her desk as I walked in. “Goodness, Celia. Did you swim here?”

“Worse. I walked,” I said with a contented sigh as the air-conditioning blasted against my damp skin.

Her brow furrowed. “Your house isn’t that far. Are you coming down with something?”

“No, I moved. I actually live over off Twenty-sixth now. Just past—”

“You walked fifty blocks to get here? Celia, it’s a wonder you don’t have heatstroke! You could’ve gone to the Murphy branch; it would’ve been closer.”

“I know, I just—” I swallowed until the lump in my throat passed. “I just know where everything is here, and I couldn’t cheat on you with a new librarian.”

“I’m surprised you’re not out at the club, soaking up every second of fun before you leave us to make your mark on the world.”

The reality of my situation hit me full force, nearly knocking the air from my lungs. I hurried toward the bookshelves near the back with tears blurring my vision.

Just as I got used to the idea of playing house, I was reminded of what it was I was giving up.

Everything.

I’d just pulled a cookbook free when my abdomen tightened again. It was a dull cramp, like I was going to get my period, which should’ve been impossible given my situation.

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