Page 16 of Courageous Hearts

I chuckle, letting my mom look me over when I step back from our hug. “It’s only been a month,” I point out.

It’s our tradition to get together—her, me, Grant, and Sophia—for lunch on the first Sunday of each month, barring any conflicts. It’s a routine I’m glad for because it keeps us close. Not that I wouldn’t visit otherwise, but it’s nice having a day each month set aside for family.

“Yes, but you know I love when you visit,” my mom says, turning her attention back to her herbs. The rosemary and a couple other pots are down on the table, but she has a whole collection of plants up on shelves in front of the southern-facing window that looks over the backyard. Those herbs are her second babies, and she dotes on them as such. “So what’s new?”

“Well,” I say, a smile overtaking my face as I pull out a seat at the table. “I got a new job.”

“That so?” she asks, looking at me, a sprig of thyme caught between her fingertips.

“He did,” my brother Grant cuts in, coming into the kitchen next to Sophia. I stand up to greet them, and Sophia gives me a big grin, stepping forward for a hug while Grant stops in front of our mother. “Another new one.”

I huff at my brother’s back. I can hear the disapproval in his voice, plain as day.

“Don’t mind him,” Sophia says near my ear, giving me a pat on the back before she steps away. “I think it’s great.”

Her face, however, tips into a frown as her eyes run over me.

“What is it?” I ask, knowing that look.

“Your aura’s a little off,” she replies, tilting her head and examining me.

She’ll tell me one way or another, but I still ask, “What color?”

“Dark blue,” she answers. “Uncertainty.”

Sophia’s words give me pause, but then she’s all smiles once more, patting my chest before swooping over to embrace my mom. Grant gives me a look. He doesn’t believe in the whole auras thing. He’s convinced his wife is just extremely adept at body language and social cues. I, on the other hand, am not so sure.

Sophia is always spot on.

“What kind of job, dear?” my mom asks at last, pulling my attention her way.

“Bartending still,” I tell her. “But you’d love this place. It’s a cabaret bar.”

As I anticipated, her eyes light up. She abandons her plants and pulls out a chair at the table, patting the top to beckon me over. “Tell me all about it.”

With a chuckle, I sit down beside her. “It’s pretty spectacular, actually. They have live shows on the weekend, and all the employees dress up. The whole place is like magic,” I say, recalling how I felt that very first night. “You can feel it in the air, you know?”

My mom’s smile goes hazy, as if she’s remembering something from long ago, and Grant sits down next to me, offering a sparkling water from the fridge. I accept it with a thanks.

“I’m going to drag Grant along soon because I’m dying to see it,” Sophia chimes in. “You should come with, Dominica.”

“Oh, I’d love to,” my mom replies eagerly.

“For the record,” Grant says, leaning my way as Sophia and Mom make plans to visit the bar, “I wouldn’t need dragging. I’m curious to see the place, too. Think you’ll be there long?”

My hackles go right up. “What’s that mean?”

Grant’s lips press together. “Come on, James. You were only at the last place for six months before you left. You have a tendency to flit from job to job. Hobby to hobby.” Never mind the fact that I’ve been bartending for years now. “I’m just wondering if there’s any chance of this job sticking.”

“For your information,” I say as evenly as possible, even though I’m a little pissed off at another insinuation of my irresponsibility, “I left my last job because the manager was a misogynistic prick, and the owner of the bar wouldn’t listen to the employees’ complaints about it. Me and five others finally walked.”

“Oh,” he says, sitting back in his chair, a frown on his face. “I didn’t know.”

“No, you didn’t. Because you never asked,” I point out.

The table is quiet, the only sound in the room the soft music from the radio, and when I finally look up, Sophia has a hard expression on her face, aimed at her husband. “Grant. A word,” she says, stepping out of the room and leaving my brother to follow.

I drink some of my fizzy, lemon-flavored water as he leaves, and then my mom’s soft voice reaches across the table.

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