Page 30 of Take a Chance on Me


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“I can drive myself, but I’d love to go home first and shower and change—”

“Nope. Mom wants to talk now. Dad’s out and she thought this is the best time.”

Amanda’s brow furrowed. Charity’s voice sounded a little too high and her tone a little too bright. “Are Mom and Dad okay?”

“They’re fine. Come on. Get in. I want to get this over with as I’m trying to hit the six o’clock mat Pilates class at the gym.”

“That’s two hours from now. You’ll make it.” Amanda crossed to Tyler, and put a hand on his sleeve. “Am I welcome to return later?”

“Do you want to return later?” he countered.

She nodded.

He kissed her. “Then, absolutely.”

As Charity parked in front of the blue house, Amanda sucked in a breath, bracing herself for whatever was to come. It was never an easy thing returning to their childhood home on Chance Avenue. Growing up, “home” was anything but a refuge. No, life in their house was consistently chaotic. Even in high school she’d dreaded walking through the front door, never sure what she would find. If her father had been drinking, there would be yelling and fighting, or if she’d arrived after the drinking, her father would be snoring in front of the TV while her mother cried in the kitchen, or the bedroom.

She and Charity used to comfort themselves that it could be worse.

Dad could hit Mom—but he didn’t.

Mom could hook up with strange men—but she didn’t.

And didn’t everyone have dysfunction in their family somewhere?

Charity removed the key from the ignition. “Things really are better,” she said, as if able to read her sister’s mind. “They’re both trying. Dad’s at an AA meeting now.”

“That’s good.”

“And they’ve cut up their credit cards so Dad can’t do his online shopping.”

“That’s even better.”

They both looked at the weathered blue house with the sagging front porch. “I wish Dad would paint it,” Amanda said. “Or maybe we just come and paint it for them. Make it a Mother’s Day-Father’s Day gift.”

“What would Chance Avenue be without our blue house? It’s legendary,” Charity said mockingly, aware that it was well-known for all the wrong reasons. It hadn’t been blue when their parents bought the house, either. Dad had painted it when the girls were little. He used to say he painted it blue because he needed something manly to come home to, since he lived in a house full of women. Amanda had believed him, and it wasn’t until a few years ago she discovered he’d painted it blue because the local mercantile had mixed up 15 gallons of Smurf blue by mistake, and instead of throwing it out, the store manager gave it to her father for their house.

“No wonder I live in a pink house. It’s my response to being forced to grow up in a blue one,” Amanda said, opening her door. “Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

While Charity watched TV in the living room, Julie led Amanda to her bedroom and closed the door.

“I want to show you something,” Julie said, bringing out a small box from the back of her top dresser drawer. It wasn’t a very fancy box, but a faded baby-blue cardboard, the small square lid creased, as if it had been accidentally flattened. Inside the box was a small gray silk pouch. Julie handed Amanda the silk pouch.

Amanda looked questioningly at her mom.

“My promise ring,” her mom said tightly, flatly, no expression in her eyes or voice.

“Wait. What?”

“It’s my ring, the one Patrick gave me.”

“He gave you a ring?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“He loved me.”

Amanda’s hand shook slightly as she dumped the delicate pearl ring into the palm of her hand. She turned the ring over, examining it in the light. “He gave this to you before he left for college?”

“No. He sent it from college, just before Christmas his sophomore year.”

“But you two broke up before the end of his senior year.”

“No, we didn’t. We kept seeing each other. Just in secret.”

Amanda struggled to take it all in. This isn’t the story she’d been told. “Bette said Don split you two up. She said—”

“Oh, Mr. Justice tried to, and he was angry, and very unpleasant, but Patrick wasn’t intimidated. You couldn’t threaten him. He stood up for the underdog, always. He was quite fearless, actually, and it’s why I fell in love with him. Bette might think Patrick walked away from me, but it didn’t happen. There was no way he was going to let anyone—much less his father—come between us.”

“So he didn’t forget you right away?”

“He never forgot me.” Julie blinked, lashes suddenly damp. “I blew him off.”

“What?”

“I met your dad, and we um… I… got pregnant, and so I called Patrick and told him I was marrying someone else, and that was that.”

“You were pregnant with Jenny before you married?”

“That shocks you?”

“I didn’t know.”

“She was a very small baby, and so we told everyone she was born early.”

Amanda turned the ring over, her head spinning. “Why didn’t you give the ring back to Patrick?”

“I tried. He didn’t want it. He said it was for me, and he wanted me to keep it as a thank-you for taking a chance on him.” Julie drew a slow breath, fresh tears filling her eyes. “He thanked me for taking a chance on him. Crazy. I had nothing, and he had everything, and yet he still wanted me, and he’d waited for me, for years he waited for me, but in the end, I couldn’t wait. I didn’t like being alone. So when I met your dad, and he was here, and available, I… moved on.”

Amanda’s fingers curled around the ring as she sat down on the trunk at the foot of the bed. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I’ve never discussed any of this, because what’s the point? But when Charity told me that you’d broken up with Tyler, and you’d told Bette to stay away from the salon, I knew we had to talk. Mandy, if Tyler is anything like Patrick, he’s a good man. Loyal, loving, honorable. Don’t judge him harshly because of me, and don’t run away from a chance at true happiness. Patrick didn’t fail me, Mandy. I failed him.”

Amanda’s head thumped. “Does Dad know about Patrick?”

“He knows there was a high school boyfriend who’d given me a promise ring.”

“Have you shown him the ring?”

“He found it once in the back of my lingerie drawer.”

“And he doesn’t mind that you kept it?”

“He doesn’t feel threatened by a ring.”

Amanda could fe

el the weight of the past in the room and a dozen different things came to her mind, things she’d love to ask, things she’d love to know, but her mother’s expression was strained and pressing her mom for details and more information didn’t seem fair. “That’s good,” she said softly, sliding the ring back into the gray silk pouch. “I’m glad.”

But her mother didn’t seem to feel any better. She kept blinking back tears. “I love your dad.”

“I know you do.”

“And I’ve always been loyal to him, even during the hard years, and there have been plenty of hard years. But after breaking Patrick’s heart, I vowed I’d never do that again. And so I’ve stood by your dad through thick and thin.”

“Mom, I’m not judging you.”

“But has it been easy? No. Did I love Patrick? Yes. Would my life have been different if I’d been more patient and willing to wait for him? Absolutely. But we make choices and I made mine.” She hesitated. “Don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

Amanda held the silk pouch out for her mom to take but Julie shook her head. “I don’t want it. You keep it.”

“And what would I do with it?”

“Maybe give it to Tyler. Or Bette. What do you think?”

Amanda closed her fingers around the pouch, holding it secure in her palm. “I think it’s time our families had some closure and moved on.”

Chapter Eleven

The plan had been for Charity to drop Amanda off at Bette’s and head to the gym. It was after five and the sun was dropping lower in the sky, long golden rays of sunlight piercing the bare branches of trees on Bramble and streaming across the asphalt.

Amanda squinted against the light as Charity neared Bette’s house. Something huge and pink filled Bette’s driveway.

And then she let out a scream.

It was an RV. A shocking pink RV. Not a soft pink pastel or a wash of pink. No, this was almost Pepto pink; this was the pink of her house and salon.

Charity pulled up in front of the house and Amanda read the script on the side of the RV, The Wright Mobile Salon, painted in purple.

She read it again even as she jumped out of the car, thinking the purple script was fun and bold, and very sassy.

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