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Chapter 34
Harper
This was what having a mom was like. Sadness twisted in my gut as I watched Mrs. Chandler flip through a clothing rack, pulling random items off and holding them out. Blinking back the tears, I forced a smile, nodding approval of everything she held up.
As far back as I could remember, I'd never had this with my mother. As a baby, she left me with my grandmother, who passed away when I was six. She didn't have much money but always ensured I had what I needed. After she passed, I went with my mother.
I was seven the first time my mom disappeared for a week. Her boyfriend, Rick, and my mother were high on their newest drug of choice when they left the house and didn't return. They left me with no food, running water, or electricity. It was the first time I was put into the foster care system. I wished that had been a better experience, but it wasn't, and I would have rather starved to death than be put back into the system. Unfortunately, I was in and out of foster care thirteen more times before I turned eighteen. Each home was worse than the last. Even harder to swallow was that no one cared what happened to you anymore after you turned eighteen.
I knew that not all moms took you shopping and spent way too much money, but I didn't know what it was like to have a mom at all. My mom never packed my school lunches or attended a school function or teacher/parent conference. She never made my breakfast, lunch, or dinner. She never even showed up to pick me up when she was supposed to.
Christian had that. Mrs. Chandler was great, but I wasn't sold that I wasn't going to get the 'you're-not-good-enough-for-my-son talk.'
"What else do you need?" Mrs. Chandler said, pulling me from my thoughts. "Do you need any personal items? Or shoes?" She glanced down at my worn knock-off Doc Martens. "We should get you new shoes."
I'd given up arguing with her three stores ago. She was even more stubborn than Christian. So, I forced a smile and nodded.
My phone vibrated underneath the pile of clothes I was carrying. Shifting them to one side, I checked my messages. A smile spread across my face when Christian's name appeared on the screen.
Christian: Is she smothering you with clothes yet?
I snapped a quick selfie of myself covered with piles of clothes with a caption that said, 'send help' and hit send.
Harper: Yes, how do I make her stop?
Christian: Fake your death.
I snorted a laugh before remembering I was in public. My gaze darted around the shoe department. While it was busy, it didn't seem anyone noticed.
Christian: If you need me to, I'll fake mine.
Harper: Thanks, but I'll be okay.
It was nearing sunset when Mrs. Chandler finally decided we were done shopping. Her entire Range Rover was filled to the brim with shopping bags. Some were for her, but most were for me, even though I tried to tell her I didn't need anything.
Sitting in the restaurant booth waiting for our food, a sense of panic rushed over me. It was just her and me in front of each other with nothing to do but talk while we waited for our food.
"Christian tells me you are planning to go to college after graduation," Mrs. Chandler said, her dark blue eyes piercing mine. "Where are you planning to go?"
"I'm not sure yet." I shrugged. "I had some issues applying, and because it was so late when I did apply, I'm not sure if I'll be accepted anywhere but the community college."
"I have a few friends that work at a few different universities." She swirled the straw in her soda around the cup. "I could give them a call."
"Thank you, but I have to have a scholarship. I've applied for a few but haven't heard back yet."
She twisted in her seat, reached into her purse, and pulled out her keys, phone, and wallet, setting them on the table in front of her.
"You don't need to worry about that," she said, pushing the items she pulled out of her purse across the table toward me. "My husband and I would like to sponsor you."
"I'm sorry?" I narrowed my eyes, unsure of what she was saying. "I don't understand." Was this when she would offer to pay for everything if I broke up with Christian? Chloe's mom had done the same thing. She'd bribed me with money to stay away from Chloe. I'd declined then, and I would now too.
"We would like to pay for your tuition, books, and anything else you need to go to school," she said. "You'll need a car." She pointed to the keys in front of me. "You'll need a more reliable phone." Her finger moved to the cell phone in front of me. "And you'll need a credit card for essentials." Her finger moved to the wallet. "You just let us know what you need for school or anything else, and we will take care of it."
My jaw dropped because this was not what I expected. There was a catch. There had to be a catch. There was always a catch. Unable to form words, I sat silently, waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the you're-not good-enough-for-our-son speech. But it never came.
"Did Christian tell you I was from the Villas?" I shook my head. He'd never told me anything about his family. "I was born in the Villas. I was raised by a single mother who chose men over me." My chest clenched tightly as a swell of agony ripped through me. She understood. She'd walked a mile in my shoes. "I was removed from her custody when I was ten, but the damage was already done by then."
I didn't know what she meant by damage, but I could only imagine. I had my own. I didn't dare ask her because scars like that were deep, and asking someone to dig them up would only bring back an emotional rollercoaster of all the suffering and trauma shoved down deep so that you could be a functioning human being in society. If she wanted me to know, then she'd tell me.
