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Walter was… no, he had been the kind of man who handled much of his business with a handshake. He’d trusted people, even though I’d tried to tell him that wasn’t in his best interest. I still hadn’t put into perspective that he was gone. He’d seemed so full of life, happier than when I’d met him.
What troubled me was that he’d mentioned his grandson once then refused to talk about his family at all. I knew he’d been estranged from his son but the entire situation remained a mystery and likely always would.
“Don’t worry, my special, perfect pumpkin. I’ll make dinner in just a little while. Okay, baby?” I tried to keep a lilt to my voice even though I wanted to crawl under the covers and cry.
“O-tay, Mama. Can we have basketti?”
There was something so adorable about the way she pronounced spaghetti. It was both endearing and caused another rush of heartache given I’d found it difficult to keep my little girl nourished the way she should be. She was also growing so fast, I’d been forced to shop at Goodwill to try to find clothes that fit. Not that shopping there was a bad thing, it was simply that I wanted to be in a position to buy her anything her heart desired.
Even working two jobs, that wasn’t possible.
But for tonight, I’d prepare my little girl’s favorite meal with a little extra love. Perhaps she’d fallen in love with it because it was cheap and something I could afford. That meant she’d had it way too often. “Sure, honey.” I was sick of eating cheap pasta, but at least the food made her happy. Tonight I was adding ground beef and a little bit of spicy sausage, a truly rare treat in my house
“And ice cream? Pwease?”
I closed my eyes before grabbing the two bags of groceries from behind her seat. Only two bags and I’d spent almost a hundred dollars. It was money I didn’t have normally. At least City Slicker’s huge tip had allowed me to buy my baby some treats for a change. For that I was grateful, even if I needed to get the man off my mind. He was nothing but a blip in my life.
Okay, a sexy amazing blip but a moment in time and nothing else.
I kicked the truck door shut, almost dropping the heavier than normal bags before making it up the two front steps to the door. When my phone rang, I groaned. There was no possibility of answering the call and at this point, I couldn’t care less who it was.
Britta continued to hop up and down, reminding me some of the deck boards needed to be replaced. That had been the last conversation I’d had with Walter after bringing him his favorite brownies, the ones he said only I could bake for him the right way. As I finally managed to unlock the door, using my foot to shove it open, I remembered I’d left my favorite platter with him.
Who was I kidding? It was my only platter, one of the few things I’d brought with me from my past life. My ugly past life.
As Britta raced into the shadowed room, reminding me my daughter was fearless, a cold shiver drifted down my spine and I wasn’t certain why. Maybe the ominous feeling had to with the knowledge that my limited lucky streak was coming to an end. Maybe on Monday I’d need to file for some assistance with the county. Possibly food stamps. Or maybe there was a program to provide housing.
Oh, God. How had I managed to allow things to get this bad? There were so many maybes.
I struggled to make it to the kitchen in the dark, able to laugh at Britta’s adorable attempt at singing. She was a happy go lucky kid, which I was grateful for. I’d yet to find a way to tell her the man she called Uncle Wally was gone. How did you explain that to a five-year-old? Okay, a very precocious five-year-old but she was still a baby.
After easing the items onto the counter, I finally turned on the light over the stove. The warm glow allowed me to take a deep breath.
“Mommy. Can I watch a movie?”
The television and her favorite hand-me-down movies were a wonderful distraction. Tonight, maybe it was a godsend since I was so out of sorts. “Be right there, baby. Why don’t you pick the movie?” I headed into the living room, running my hand along the back of the couch. I’d tried hard not to think about the fact the sofa was at least twenty years old, or the fact the cushions were lumpy, the material close to threadbare.
Tonight, the reality was more pronounced.
Stop it. You’re not going to do anything but fall into another rough level of depression.
Maybe so, but I couldn’t seem to climb out of the funk. After turning on a light and the television, I ran my fingers through her hair.
“Yeah. Yeah!” She clapped her hands, spinning around in a circle.
“Let’s get your coat off, pumpkin.”
“Why do you call me pumpkin?” she asked so innocently I almost laughed.
As I tugged the jacket from her shoulders, I thought about the answer. “Well, because you’re adorable and sweet like pumpkin pie.”
“Yummy! When can we have some?”
“Maybe one day, baby.” I headed toward the small coat closet, hanging up both our jackets. She even needed a warmer coat than she had. Thankfully, the chilly nights would be over in a month or so, spring headed our way. Maybe it was wishful thinking. Summer clothes were easier to deal with and much cheaper.
“Mommy will be right back. I just want to put the ice cream away. Okay?”
“Sure, Mommy.”
