Page 10 of Peaks and Promises

Even if I could afford it, I couldn’t think of many things Nate would hate more than eight weeks of summer camp. And I could also hear what Mindy wasn’t saying. If her kids were at camp, she wasn’t going to be around to watch Nate. Which was fair. It just wasn’t great for me.

“I’ll look into it,” I said. “Thanks.”

“Of course.”

Glancing into the living room again, I hesitated. I was afraid to ask, but I needed to know. “Min, this is going to sound like a weird question, but you haven’t noticed a couple guys on motorcycles hanging around, have you?”

“Here?”

“Yeah.”

“No. I don’t think so. Why?”

The knot of worry in my stomach eased a little. “Just wondering.”

“Is there something I need to know about?”

“Nate’s dad is um…” I didn’t like talking about Axel. “He’s not around, but sometimes his friends show up. They’re kind of hard to miss.”

“Got it. No, I didn’t hear any motorcycles. But I’ll let you know if I do.”

“Thanks.” I turned back toward the living room. “Nate, we should get home.”

With a nod, he hoisted himself off the couch and knocked his shin on the coffee table. I winced, but didn’t say anything. Calling attention to his clumsiness would only make things worse.

He gritted his teeth, and I could see him biting back an “ouch.”

“Bye, Nate,” Mindy’s kids said in unison.

“Bye.” He gave them a little wave and grabbed his backpack. “Bye, Ms. Mindy.”

“Bye, kiddo,” she said.

I followed Nate out and cast a quick glance around the parking lot. There was no way they’d followed me home. I would have heard them. Bikes weren’t exactly stealthy.

Still, I felt a twinge of nervousness as we walked across the complex to our apartment. We climbed the stairs to the third floor, and I unlocked the door. Nate went in and dumped his backpack near the entry.

“Do you have homework?” I asked.

“I had a math worksheet, but I already did it.”

“Good choice.”

He went to the small dining table where he had a Lego project in process. I’d given him a few sets—splurges for birthdays and Christmas—and after he’d built them according to the directions, he loved to make his own creations. He’d been working on something that looked like a dragon for several days.

“What sounds good for dinner?” I asked.

“I don’t know.”

I had no idea why I ever asked for his opinion on dinner. He never had one. I guess I was lucky he’d eat pretty much anything I put in front of him. But making dinner decisions every night was tiring. Especially after a long day of serving food to other people.

To be fair, what we had in the kitchen would be the deciding factor. And I already knew pickings were slim.

I rooted around, but there wasn’t much. One more day until payday, and I needed my tips to put gas in my car. So I settled on canned soup. I’d make toast to go with it. Not the best meal, but at least we had food.

That was about the most I could say for myself as a mother. I never let him go hungry. As for the rest, I felt like a big, fat failure most of the time.

Nate quietly worked on his Lego dragon at the table while I heated up our dinner. I had no idea what I was going to do about summer break. He was only ten—too young to be left alone all day. When I was his age, I’d been on my own a lot. Which was probably a good reason to make sure he wasn’t fending for himself all summer. My childhood had left a lot to be desired.