Page 42 of Fight for Me

Shifting my weight from foot to foot, I clear my throat and look back at Ruth, who looks between her nephew and me with a cunning smile.

“Thank you for having me, Ruth. I’m sorry that I never came to say thank you for... After...” I rub my hands together, trying to find the words to express my gratitude, but also my regret of never coming back to do just that.

I can’t even put anything together because Ruth is already shaking her head. “That’s all in the past, dear. You’re here now, and I couldn’t be happier to see that you’ve made it whole. That’s all I’ve been praying for. For you to survive. The same goes for my boy.”

Before I get to question her about what she means by that, she whirls around with Henry and gets inside.

I look back at Brody questioningly, but he only waves his hand and says, “After you.”

As soon as I’m inside, the familiar scents of home-cooked meals and female chatter hit me, and my eyes water involuntarily when the pleasant memories emerge from the parts of my mind I kept behind a mental wall. I’ve only been here for a week years ago, and it wasn’t for holidays, but it was still special to me. A warm place with friendly faces and Aunt Ruth as this sort-of motherly figure to help navigate through my days. I didn’t even realize how much I missed it before coming back here.

“Come on in. When I told Amelia that you’ll be coming, she was over the moon. She’s been on a cleaning spree. I told her she shouldn’t scrub toilets in her state, but the woman is so stubborn...”

“So, Amelia is still here?” I question excitedly, extending my hand for Henry to grab onto, when Ruth puts him on the ground. Of course, right now, I seem to be invisible because he grabs onto her skirt and patters with his small feet to keep up with her step.

“Oh yes, but they aren’t living here anymore. Amelia is still the cook, thank God, and the girls often visit, but it’s just not the same as having them all here...”

I follow the older woman and look around at the few changes and adjustments in the place. I’m delighted to see that the shelter seems to be doing better these days.

Before we reach the kitchen and dining room, Ruth stops and turns to her nephew. “Damon, be a sweetheart and go to the upstairs bathroom to check on that leak under the faucet.”

Brody’s eyebrows lift in question, but the woman continues with a smarmy smile, “You know where to find the tools. The dinner is not ready yet anyway.”

“Sure,” he grunts and retreats into one of the corridors.

I look at his retreating form and then back at Ruth when she says, “That will give him some time to cool down, and give us the time to catch up.”

“Why does he need to cool down? Did I do something?” I ask worriedly.

Ruth smirks and looks down at Henry. “Your momma is totally oblivious, ain’t she?”

When the kid nods his head, not even understanding what he is agreeing to, she laughs under her breath, and then takes in my confused expression. “You’re not ready to see it, I get it. Just don’t give him false hope, if it’s not possible.”

“I don’t...” I start and jump away when the door to the kitchen bangs open.

“How much longer will you keep me waiting? I thought I heard...” Amelia notices me standing next to Ruth and drops the washcloth she was holding. “Oh! I can’t believe it!”

She comes closer and embraces me in an awkward hug. It’s awkward because I’m staring at her in bewilderment, stiff as a board. Three years ago, Amelia would’ve freaked out at such an intimate contact, but now she is the one initiating it.

Finally, I pat her gently on the back, and she moves away to look up at me. At my height I tower over most women, so it’s nothing new, but Amelia looks almost like a little fairy next to me. She smiles at me softly and then without a warning bursts out crying. I jump in shock and look to Ruth for help, but she only rolls her eyes.

“Hormones,” the woman mumbles with a pout, but her eyes are smiling.

“Hormones?” I parrot and then widen my eyes when I look down and notice the baby bump on Amelia, who continues to lament dramatically.

“Come on, Amelia. You’re spooking the little one.” Ruth motions to Henry, who hides behind her to observe the scene. His mouth starts wobbling like he’s on a verge of joining the pregnant woman in the cry fest.

“Henry, everything is fine,” I tell him over Amelia’s head.

When I say that, she turns to see who I’m talking to and exclaims, “Oh! Is this your little man? Jenny! He’s adorable.”

“That’s my son, Henry,” I say proudly and smile at him, when I see his curiosity win, as he removes himself from Ruth’s dress and walks toward the crying stranger.

“No cry,” he says to her, before patting her on the leg. He turns to me and raises his arms, indicating that I take him, and I do just that.

“He’s not really used to meeting new people. I think he might be overwhelmed,” I mutter when Henry tries to hide his head into my neck again.

“So precious,” Amelia muses, before swiping at her tears. “Please excuse my waterworks. It’s been happening constantly.”

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