Page 43 of Nothing Left To Lose But You

“It’s ugly and complicated. There’s a lot at stake.”

“Like Rainey?”

“Like Rainey.” He steps back, opening the space between us, and allowing air to fill my lungs again. “I guess we’ve all got our own shit, right?” I say before starting toward the staircase to check on the girls.

Logan softly catches my arm. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. I don’t think any less of you. Families are hard, even the ones who look picture-perfect have their skeletons.”

“I want to be done with this conversation for now,” I say with a tight-lipped smile.

Laying in bed in the dark, I reflect on the day. The company was wonderful. The food was edible, which is all I can expect of myself. The girls played hard, and Maggie fell asleep on my couch before Logan could get her home.

My insides churn when I replay the conversation with Dunbar. He started off strong with the apology bit before closing in to see how much I would bend this time. Saying no to him is difficult, and today’s one of the few times I’ve mustered the courage to do so. Knowing Rainey is safe in my home boosted my confidence to set one of my first boundaries with my brother.

What will happen when he’s released? I don’t know. But tonight I’m going to bed with $50 still in my pocket, my pride intact, and the peace that comes with knowing my brother is safe in jail and that Rainey’s just a few feet down the hall in a warm room, wearing clean clothes, and likely snoring.

My peace is shattered when I realize that Dunbar will probably yank Rainey out of my life again as soon as the opportunity presents itself. The thought sends tears gushing down my cheeks.

For the first time in my life, I admit to myself that Dunbar’s love and care for his daughter is now entirely dependent on what he stands to gain. Rainey’s not a useful pawn right now. He only mentioned her tonight as an insult to throw in my face.

Logan’s intercession was sweet, but trying. His careful approach to the situation, full of a tender desire to help, was generous. When my defenses were down—something only my brother manages to do—Logan rebuilt me. He didn’t shame me for being a grown woman and allowing my younger sibling to scream in my ear. He gently reminded me, with a conviction I’m not accustomed to, that I deserve to be treated with respect; and when I’d had enough of his questions, he honored my decision without another word.

Dunbar’s toxicity and Logan’s helpful nature battle in my mind. The memory of Logan’s opaque eyes meeting mine as he tipped my chin upward haunts me. Those eyes, his tan arms, and his intoxicating scent temporarily wipe all thoughts of my brother away. Widowed less than a year, he’s nothing but respectful of my boundaries. His genuine concern shines bright, and I never wonder if his intentions are anything but pure. The memory of his hand on my shoulder spreads a heat through me that I ignore, rolling over to sleep.

Chapter 17

Logan

It’sbeenweeks,butI finally land an interview—a potential job awaits me over an hour away from home in Dayton, Ohio. I’ve pulled myself together and hit the road, ready to impress. Swinging and missing in Cincinnati prompted me to increase my search radius on all the job websites, and I heard from one application yesterday. I don’t want to work an hour away from my daughter, but at this point I need a job.

The only thing stopping me from applying for a food service position is the flexible hours requirement. I’d have to work some evenings and weekends—by the time I paid a babysitter, any income from my shift would be null. Claire and Rufus will be furious if they find out I’m not reaching out to them for help, but I need to figure this out on my own.

The Dayton interview is a train wreck from the beginning. I vetted the company online before accepting the interview. Information about them was sparse, but their website looked top of the line. The professional reviews and critiques I found online were overall positive, but limited in number. All of that should have been a red flag for a company boasting they’ve been in business for over a decade. No one greeted me when I arrived, and after poking around and finding no one, I waited forty-five minutes before an employee came back from lunch and found me. My interviewer was spacy, not at all prepared for our meeting. I’m desperate, but the drive time and lower than I’d hoped salary combine with today’s experience making this a hard pass.

A new low settles in my soul. Looking for empathy, I join a message board for unemployed, highly-skilled laborers. Many posts appear whiny, which is understandable, but not helpful. One post catches my eye. A Reddit user suggests something they’re trying: DoorDash delivery and Instacart shopping between submitting job applications. The user admits there are no benefits, other than the money they make bridging the gap until something comes through for full-time employment.

The demand for DoorDash and Instacart is surprisingly high for a town the size of Alexandria. It seemed unlikely when I registered on the apps, but I reasoned I can also shop in Newport and surrounding bigger cities to increase my earning potential. Two days after I’m an approved contractor, I spend several hours shopping for other people’s groceries. The irony isn’t lost on me since I still struggle to find things in Walmart. The pay isn’t anything to write home about, but I’m steadily adding a little to my bank account and praying it’s enough to keep Maggie and me afloat until a job comes through.

Claire texts me in the middle of a DoorDash pickup to propose the idea of recurring Thursday night family dinners—starting tonight. I enthusiastically agree, knowing Maggie will jump at the chance to see my aunt and uncle regularly.

The mid-October air is crisp and the leaves on the trees lining the farm’s driveway show off golden hues with red and orange splashes, threatening to drop with the first gust of wind. Hannah always said fall was the best season because the feel of fall air reminded her of fresh starts. For the first time, I agree.

At the sight of Rufus, Maggie leaps into his arms, demanding a bear hug. My uncle’s more than happy to deliver on her request and they take off to the barn together. Claire outdid herself with dinner, preparing a feast, even though it’s just the four of us. After weeks of simple meals, frozen pizzas, and the rare takeout, a home cooked meal feels indulgent.

Maggie’s chatter doesn’t end throughout the entirety of dinner. She catches her great aunt and uncle up on everything from school (she loves her teacher, but hates gym class) and her “bestest” friend Rainey, to hanging out with Noah. Claire flashes me a knowing look at the mention of Noah’s name and I mouth ‘hush’ at her before she can make a big deal out of it.

The visit feels like a deep exhale—my soul needed Claire’s mothering tonight. She pulled me close and asked how Maggie and I are doing on our own before sending us home with leftovers. I’d been semi-honest when asked about the job search and how we’re doing financially (things are still tight, but we’re making it work). She tried to slip some cash into my hand as we hugged goodbye, but I couldn’t bring myself to accept it.

My finances took a nosedive on my drive from the farm back to the apartment. We’d stayed later than I planned, playing board games and chatting, leaving me to drive home in the dark. The last country road, just before my turn onto the town street leading home, is rough and I’ve never navigated it at night. A deep, tire-size pothole comes from nowhere and my right back tire slams into the unseen hazard, producing an almost immediate clunking sound. My proximity to the main road allows me to pull off safely onto a shoulder of the city street and make an emergency call to Lee at the auto shop.

Lee promises to have my car towed to his shop at daylight, and I remind him multiple times to give me an estimate before he begins any work on the SUV. I hang up with Lee and begin dialing Uncle Rufus for a ride back to my place, but Paul pulls alongside me in his cruiser, rescuing me from my currently inoperable vehicle. He plays coy before admitting Lee texted him as soon as I called.

Maggie’s mesmerized to ride home in the back of a police cruiser, and she begs Paul the entire drive through downtown to put on his lights. He relents as he pulls up in front of my apartment, in exchange for a pinky promise that this will be the last time she sees the inside of a cop car. Not understanding the exchange, she readily agrees and her eyes light up alongside the blue flashes. My neighbors have to be loving this.

In reality, my neighbors consist almost exclusively of elderly singles who wouldn’t care one bit if they knew the lights were for Maggie. In the six weeks since my daughter and I moved in, Maggie’s made easy work out of capturing the neighbor’s hearts. Some we see in the morning as we leave for school, and others wave as we return home. No matter when she sees them, Maggie puts a smile on their faces. They reciprocate with jokes, hard candy, and—my favorite—an occasional batch of cookies.

I choke on a sip of water when Lee calls the next day and delivers the repair estimate. The axle I managed to snap in two will cost $800 to repair. It’s beyond my ability to pay and I’m forced to ask if Lee’s shop has any promotions or discounts available. Lee offers to discount his personal labor charge by half, but can’t do anything about the cost of the parts.

Lee’s a good guy—more concerned with helping me than making a buck—and suggests giving other shops a call to get quotes. He expects his shop will be the most affordable, but offers it’s worth looking into. The thought’s appreciated because any possibility of a more affordable fix would be a godsend right now. My conundrum comes when I learn there’s only two other auto repair businesses in town—one with ten reviews online, none higher than two stars, and the other shop just permanently closed when the owner was arrested for using the shop’s auto bay after hours as a cock-fighting ring.

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