Page 6 of Alpha Wolf's Arranged Bride
I shove the thoughts away, angrily packing boxes into the back of my car. I could stay a bit longer, hoping to sell a couple more dresses, but I’d rather get over to the school and be ready to pick up Jarrod.
It’s a great comfort to me that even though I’m completely shunned by the town, Jarrod has some acceptance at school. The teachers are extremely traditional, but they won’t punish an innocent child for my sins, and they see to it that he has a good education and isn’t held back.
As I wait near the school entrance for the bell to ring, I look around at the other moms chatting with each other and try not to let it bother me. If I happen to catch anyone’s gaze, they quickly turn away, locking me out of their conversations.
I don’t fucking care!
Actually, I do. A lot.
Mercifully, the bell rings, and kids start to pour from the buildings, swarming the playground and charging for the gates. I see Jarrod straight away, his bright blond hair glowing in the light.
He got that golden hair from his grandmother—my mother. Dad said her hair was like living sunlight.
I try to shove that painful thought away, but Jarrod barrels into me, wraps his arms around my waist, and looks up, shocking me with his big amber eyes.
It’s so strange. His eyes aren’t his father’s dark brown color, but they’re still his father’s eyes. I’m sure of it.
“Hey, Mom!” he says. “I made a painting. Do you want to see?”
“I sure do,” I answer, putting an arm around his shoulders.
Jarrod uses his free hand to rummage in his bag, finally pulling out the big piece of paper. “It’s the forest, see? The sky is dark because night is falling, and the shadows are creeping nearer to the glades as the sun sets.”
“That’s really creative,” I say, meaning it. With lines of color and skillful shading, Jarrod has given the painting real perspective and depth.
“You like it?” he asks, beaming.
“I really do. I want to put it on the wall at home right away.”
“Aw,” he mutters, ducking his head. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Of course I do. It’s beautiful, Jarrod.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
We walk over to the car, and it’s painfully obvious that no other kids call out to Jarrod or ask him to play. He bears it stoically, eyes forward as if he doesn’t have a care in the world.
My boy, my poor, strong little boy. He’s growing up so much faster than he should.
“I tell you what,” I say as we get into the car. “How about we go get some ice cream?”
“Are you sure, Mom?” he asks. “Don’t we need to save up for other stuff?”
My heart screams in my chest, and it’s hard to cover up my frustration. I try as hard as I can to keep Jarrod’s life stress-free, but he still notices when I can’t pay bills on time or buy his favorite snacks.
“Yeah!” I say with fake enthusiasm. “We’re fine. I sold a nice dress today, so don’t worry. We can afford a little treat.”
His big smile warms my heart, and I focus completely on his happiness, shoving my troubles behind a huge mental wall.
Not healthy. I don’t care, though. I just want to make him happy as often as I can, and I’ll enjoy this feeling every chance I get.
We go to the little ice cream parlor where old Trudy serves us up a couple of double chocolate fudge sundaes. She’s sweet to me and to Jarrod. Even though she’s old and just as traditional as everyone else in this town, she still likes to make people happy, especially kids.
Over ice cream, we talk about Jarrod’s day in school, and he mentions that he wants to go into an advanced art class. I listen attentively but make no commitment to it, even as it breaks my heart. The advanced class is expensive, and I just can’t afford it, no matter how much I make.
By the time we leave, my chest is heavy again, but I hide it well, chatting brightly with Jarrod all the way home.
I don’t know how long I can keep doing this. I love him so much, I only want the best for him, but how can I possibly provide what he needs?
