“You should sit down.”
“Jenn—baby—whatever it is, I’m your mother and I love you. Granted, you might drive me crazy wearing those jeans and I might react very poorly at times. I’m just very busy trying to rebuild the family business. And I just don’t understand why you don’t like those pretty dresses, but I guess I can come to terms with your peculiar choices, whatever it takes for you to be in my life. You know how much I miss your brother. I just don’t understand why he never calls.”
“Momma, listen to me. It’s not about me.”
“Then what’s it about?”
I gathered a large breath, held it in my lungs and sent a prayer upward. I prayed for strength. I prayed my mother would believe me, because she didn’t deserve my father’s betrayal. Just like I didn’t deserve his abuse. Just like he didn’t deserve us.
“It’s about Dad.” I spoke calmly, because I knew at any minute she was going to launch into hysterics. “It’s about Dad and what he’s been doing on the weekends.”
***
Guilt had me squirming in my seat.
It was the money. The money was responsible for my guilt. I couldn’t stop looking at my bank balance. But every time I looked at my bank balance, my stomach felt hollow.
“Stop it.”
I glanced to my side, to Jethro Winston who’d taken me to the bank and was now driving me back to his family’s house.
He continued, smiling, “Stop working yourself up about the money. Believe me, she’ll collect on those custard cakes. They’re all she talks about.”
I folded the bank printout into thirds and tucked it into my bag. “She was too generous.”
“I don’t think you appreciate how terrible morning sickness has been for her. She’s sick all the time. She jokes about it, but I can tell she’s in pain.” Jethro’s hands tightened on the steering wheel and the corners of his mouth turned down. His wife’s difficulty affected him. “Those lemon cakes are the only thing that helps. I’d give you a million dollars myself if I thought it would help.”
I didn’t need a million dollars. Between Sienna’s kindness and the agreement I’d tentatively struck with my momma this morning, my cup runneth over.
The conversation with my mother went both better and worse than expected. Better because she’d agreed to pay me for my work. Worse because she hadn’t believed me about my father. She said I was mistaken, that I was confused, that he would never do such a thing, and then she ended the call.
Worry for her plagued me, so I decided to give her some time, then approach the subject again.
“Sienna seemed okay this morning,” I said, wanting to ease his mind.
He huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “She’s a great actress.”
I nodded, because she was a great actress. I’d seen all her movies. Even my momma—who didn’t like movies—loved Sienna Diaz. She was America’s non-conformist sweetheart.
The fact that America’s sweetheart had ended up with Jethro Winston was amazing.
Sure, Jethro Winston was a looker. He had twinkly hazel-green eyes, a tall, lean build, strong jaw, impeccable beard, easy smile—the works. But he also had a checkered past. At one time he was involved with the Iron Wraiths and the rumor was he stole cars for the club. I thought he became a member, but I later discovered he’d been a recruit. He’d left the motorcycle club before he’d pledged as a full member.
Since leaving, he’d become a straight arrow. He was always easy-going and calm, never seemed to get ruffled. I never saw him drink spirits. My momma said that he used to treat women badly; but then I overheard Naomi Winters tell the reverend’s wife that Jethro hadn’t stepped out with a woman since leaving the Wraiths. The reverend’s wife said leaving the Wraiths saved his life and that he’d turned everything around for his momma.
And if Jethro could leave the Iron Wraiths, turn his life around and rejoin his real family, it gave me hope for my brother.
Before I thought better of it, I asked, “Was it difficult? Leaving the Wraiths? Did they make it hard on you? Or could you just leave?”
Jethro’s eyebrows jumped. “Uh . . .” he started, stalled, cleared his throat, shifted in his seat, and then frowned, “why do you want to know?”
“My brother, Isaac. He’s not a member yet. I just wanted to know, what could be done or how easy it would be for him to leave, if he wanted to leave.”
Jethro’s frown morphed into an expression of compassion. “Jenn, I hate to tell you this, but even if he wanted to leave, it wouldn’t be easy. They did not make leaving easy on me and I’m one of the few who ever managed it.”
“Thanks for being honest.” His statement confirmed my fears.
His smile was apologetic. “I’m sorry I can’t give you better news.”