Page 126 of Deserter

Linda moved her basket out of the way and came back over. “Hi, Kate. I’m Dr. Linda.”

She hastily rubbed at her eyes before taking Linda’s hand. “Hello, Dr. Linda. I’m Mary Katherine. It’s very nice to meet you.”

The grocery store wasn’t an ideal place for a therapy session, but I was officially out of other options. I’d checked out books on grief from the library, yet nothing seemed to help. She kept having spells where she became convinced she was dying; as if there was a massive weight sitting on her chest.

Since he’d been gone, it was like a weight had settled over our entire house. I found myself wanting to go back in time; needing to change how things had happened. Would I have chased after Jamie like some love-drunk teenager if I’d known how it was going to end?

“Celia?”

I broke away from my thoughts and looked up at Linda. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

She tucked a strand of silver hair behind her ear. “I was just saying that it’s common for children to struggle with anxiety after the loss of a parent or loved one. That card has my phone number on it. Call me anytime.”

“Thank you.”

Kate’s breathing evened out and we slowly made our way back to our feet. I tucked the card in the front pocket of my purse and shook her hand, knowing there was no way I’d be able to afford weekly visits with a therapist.

I had to make the money last.

For how long?

I couldn’t even begin to fathom a guess.

I’d considered taking a job but couldn’t afford a babysitter for the girls. On top of that, my only qualification was a high school diploma.

A piece of paper that meant nothing.

The college classes I’d been meaning to take had ended up on a shelf, collecting dust, while I ran a household. Now, it was just one more expense we couldn’t afford.

I could’ve gone to my parents and begged for money, but I refused to give them the satisfaction in knowing they were right about Jamie.

Kate continued rubbing at her eyes as I grabbed the milk and eggs. “Is there anything else you need, Mama? I could get it for you.”

I pulled her up against my side. “Katydid, I just need you to keep breathing in, nice and slow through your nose like Dr. Linda said. Then slowly blow it out like you’re blowing up a balloon, okay?”

She took my hand. “Okay, Mama. I’m sorry.”

“No,” I scolded her. “Do not apologize for how you feel. You miss your daddy. That’s normal.”

“Katy!” Dakota cried out, struggling against the belt across her lap. “Yook!”

We both turned to where she was pointing, and I looked up at the fluorescent lights with a groan when I saw it. I wanted just one outing—just one—where there wasn’t some glaring reminder of Jamie.

Kate picked up theSpider-Mandrinking glass and turned it over in her hands before placing it back on the shelf. “Is it time to go now?”

I nodded. “Let’s get you two home and down for a nap.”

“No, Mama. No nap.” Dakota crossed her arms over her chest and furrowed her little brow.

I ignored her protests and wheeled the cart into a checkout lane. We just had to get out of here. I tuned out the monotonous beeping of the scanner and distracted myself with the tabloid headlines.

Later, I’d figure out how to avoid public places where my daughter would forever be reminded of the first man she’d loved.

The first man who’d broken her heart.

“Ma’am, the total comes to eighty-seven fourteen.”

I pulled the wallet from my purse and counted out the bills.

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