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“Yes.” She munches on a deviled egg that looks oddly like an eyeball. “Mr. Jonas is taking me out soon. I’m super excited, Miss Shelly.” She bounces on her toes. “One of the kids from my new school said our neighborhood gives outwholecandy bars. Like the big ones you get at the store.” Her eyes widen and jaw drops.
Oh, to be young again. To have simple things—like regular-sized candy bars given on Halloween—bring you joy.
“That’s amazing!”
“I know, right?”
“When I was your age, we would trick-or-treat around our neighborhood, then go to my friends’ neighborhood. If it was a weekend, we went to as many houses as possible. Some years, we had candy for months.”
“Wow.” Clementine peers up, awe in her expression. “Maybe Mr. Jonas will do that for me next year, after my baby brother or sister is born.”
“Maybe. Just make sure you ask days before. You have to make a plan.”
Clementine salutes me. “Yes, ma’am.” Spartan appears out of nowhere and sniffs along the edge of the table. “No, Sparty. Mama said you can’t eat the people’s food. It upsets your tummy. Come on.” She steps away from the table and Spartan follows without another word. “Later, Miss Shelly.”
“Later, cutie Clementine.”
I load more food onto my plate and head for the living room. Plopping down on the couch between Cora and Autumn, I scoop up spinach artichoke dip that came from a carved pumpkin mouth. Listen to my friends discuss pregnancy and pending motherhood. Sit in silence and wonder if I will experience more than solitude one day. If I will experience the pangs and joys of pregnancy and motherhood.
Part of me still envies their lives. The natural progression. Attaining happiness and love.
My inner romantic reminds me I will walk the path too, when the time is right. To just be patient. Quit looking at every guy I meet as a potential love interest. Let nature run its course. Things will pan out on their own. Bloom when the time is right. That I just need to stay confident and calm.
My time will come. I want to believe this. Need to believe this. But some days, convincing myself is more of a challenge than not.
Jonas hooks Spartan on his leash before he and Clementine kiss Autumn goodbye.
“Don’t pick up anything heavy while we’re gone, Mama,” Clementine says with a stern expression. I swear that girl will make others bow to her one day. Once Autumn agrees, Clementine skips out the door, telling Spartan they are going to get the best candy stash ever.
“Is it wrong to be happy I don’t have to do the trick-or-treating this year?” Autumn laughs and Cora and I join her.
“I’m just waiting for all the Halloween candy to go on sale tomorrow, so I can buy my own stash,” I admit. “That’s the only trick-or-treating I’ll do.” We laugh again.
“Get me some,” Micah says, entering the room with Peyton at his side and surprising us.
“Thought you were working, big brother.”
He kisses me on the forehead. “I was. We got out early. The owners decided to give management an early night.” He waves a hand around the room. “So, here I am. Ready to indulge in mountains of sugary, ghoulish treats and torture people I love.” I narrow my eyes at him and he sticks out his tongue.
“Help yourself. There’s food and drinks in the kitchen and dining room,” Autumn says.
Peyton gives us hugs, then she and Micah wander toward the buffet hand in hand.
I stare after my brother and his wife of less than a month, and smile. More than anyone else in our circle, they give me the most hope. If they were able to forgive and let go of the horrid history they share, overcome crazy obstacles thrown at them, find love and a happily ever after together, how can I not believe in a happy ending for myself?
Autumn rises from her seat next to me and dashes for the hall, grumbling about the constant need to pee as she walks off. Not a second later, Micah plops down and knocks my arm with his.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“You look better.”
I cock a brow at him. “Thanks, big brother. You really know the way to a woman’s heart.”
He rolls his eyes. “Ugh, you know what I mean. You’re smiling more since I last saw you.” He sets his plate on the coffee table then wraps his arm around my shoulders. “No offense, but you look happy. What changed?”
Everything. Nothing.
My life is pretty much the same. Work eight to ten hours a day, five to six days a week—depends on time of year, orders, events, and staff. Each day, I go home to my empty apartment, eat something simple or order delivery, and watch an episode or two of my current television drama. On occasion, I sneak in a romance movie on Hallmark or Passionflix.
