“Miss Turner? Shall we wrap up?” the funeral director prompted.
I watched distractedly as Cal carried Mason outside, murmuring to him quietly. I resolved to make sense of the Cal situation once I got through the next few days.
I found Cal and Mason on a small patch of lawn outside the funeral home. Mason was toddling around as Cal turned from watching him to study me.
“All set?” he asked, his eyes bright with concern.
I nodded, lifting Mason into an embrace, needing his soft skin and warm weight in my arms.
“Where to next?” Cal asked.
“I need to track down my sister. She hasn’t returned any of my phone calls,” I explained.
He nodded. “All right, we’ll take the SUV I rented.”
I shook my head. “I have a car,” I argued, pointing to the small sedan I’d rented. I was beyond asking him why he wanted to come with us. I clung to my earlier resolve to dig into that later, when I had the mental capacity for it.
“Baby, that thing is like a tin can. The SUV is safer. Switch the car seat and let’s go.”
His demand and implication that I couldn’t provide for my son hit a nerve. I held Mason closer as I glared up at Cal. “If you came out here to boss me around or to judge me for having to make decisions based on a tight budget, then you can leave right now, Cal Jackson.”
He had the nerve to smile, his gaze warm on mine. “I have my hands full with you, don’t I?”
“You don’t have your hands full of anything,” I snapped.
His expression softened as he took a step closer. “I’m here to help, Jill. You’re always so intent to prove you can do things alone—you’ve proved that you can. You’ve done well by your boy. That’s not in question here. It never was.”
After a skeptical moment I managed a stiff nod.
He looked at my rental car again. “If wheels are moving, I’m driving, and I doubt I’d fit behind the wheel. Do me a favor and move the car seat, all right?”
His change of tactic wasn’t lost on me. I was too tired to argue. “Fine,” I agreed. “I have the last of Gran’s things in the trunk. I don’t want to leave them.”
His gaze lit with understanding. “Course not, baby. I’ll get them.”
It was only a few minutes before we were pulling away from the curb. I directed him to the trailer park where Janelle had been living the last time I was in town.
Though I was far from wanting to get into my family history, I felt the need to explain what we might be walking into. “My sister and I aren’t all that close. She’s struggled with substance abuse throughout her life. She’s never been reliable and she knows that I worry about how she’s raising her kids.”
His eyes turned to me briefly before returning to the road. “She has kids?”
“Two.” I nodded. “A boy, Max. He’s seven. And Emmie just turned four.”
“She not doing right by them?”
I looked out the window. “I hope she is.” Even as I said it I wasn’t sure I believed it.
“There a man in the picture?”
I shrugged, wishing I knew more about my sister. “Not the last time I was here.”
I craned my neck to check on Mason, relieved to discover he’d fallen asleep. I slumped back in my seat, eager to soak in a few much-needed moments to zone out. Cal seemed to sense I needed that so the rest of our drive passed in comfortable silence.
When we pulled into the trailer park, I sat up stiffly, watching with rapt attention as we wove our way toward Janelle’s last known address. No stranger to trailer parks, having lived in several before my parents had split and left us with Gran, I knew this wasn’t all that bad. There was some pride of ownership to be seen mixed in with a few dilapidated homes in desperate need of love. When we pulled up to what I hoped was still Janelle’s place, I was relieved to find the home in good condition.
“Mason really needs to sleep, do you mind waiting with him?” I asked Cal.
He studied the home in front of us, his expression tense. “Don’t like the idea of you walking in there alone.”
