“What did she say?” Matt asked, interrupting Kieran’s train of thought. Kieran’s blue eyes flashed, and Matt seemed to understand. He exhaled, as if he, too, was frustrated by his mother’s lack of action. “Yeah, she’s like that. Are you going to ask her to marry you?”
Yes. Without question. Once she accepts who and what she is to me. Yet he didn’t feel like getting into a discussion about croies with young Matt just yet. The boy was just beginning to fully enter the realm of female awareness, he couldn’t be expected to grasp that concept. Hell, Kieran was twenty-eight and the very idea of being inexorably linked to another soul left him dizzy.
Instead, Kieran posed a question of his own. “How would you feel about it if I did?”
Matt sat back in his chair and seemed to give it serious consideration for several long minutes.
“I think I’d like it,” he said finally. “I mean, you’re cool. And I’m pretty sure she’s in love with you, too.”
Yeah, Kieran thought so, too. Faith seemed to be the only one not readily accepting of that fact.
“Plus,” Matt continued logically, “you make her happy.”
“Do I?” Kieran wondered, though he hadn’t meant to say so out loud.
Matt rolled his eyes. “Duh.”
Kieran sighed. Hearing Matt say so (sort of) made him feel slightly better, but then what was holding her back? The truth was, things were more complicated than that. Loving her and making her happy obviously wasn’t enough.
“You make it sound so simple.”
“Well, it is, isn’t it?” Matt asked. “At least it should be, anyway. You’ve got to make her see that, Kieran. I don’t think anyone else could.” Matt’s voice grew quieter. “She doesn’t think I know, but I do. All the shit she puts up with, just so we have food on the table and a place to sleep. How she pretends to eat, but doesn’t so there’s more for me. It hasn’t been easy, but she made it work. She’s sacrificed too much. And she’s too smart to spend the rest of her life cleaning up after other people. She needs a chance, Kieran. She needs you. You are the only one I’ve ever seen her listen to.”
Kieran was floored by Matt’s insight, and by the depth of his feelings on the matter. Weren’t teenagers supposed to be too self-absorbed to notice things like that? Then again, Matt was no normal teen. He had Faith for a mother. Kieran felt a surge of pride for the boy.
“When did you get so smart, anyway?”
Matt smirked, and the cocky teenager was back. “Adults,” he said, shaking his head, making Kieran chuckle.
*
The knock at the door surprised her. Very few people came to visit. Matt was at BodyWorks with Kieran working on his next belt, and she had the place to herself for a few hours.
“Hi, George,” Faith said when she saw the older man on her porch. Looking quite sharp in the navy blue knee-length shorts and light blue cotton shirt that comprised the standard warm-weather uniform of the US Postal Service, he smiled warmly. His eyes matched the color of his shirt, and his short-trimmed hair was snowy white beneath his cap.
Faith didn’t get to see him often. He usually left the mail in the box up along the roadside, but if Faith was working outside when he came by, he’d stop and chat for a few moments. She suspected it had something to do with the iced tea or lemonade and cookies she always offered him, but she didn’t mind. George was one of those people who knew how to be friendly without being intrusive.
“I’ve got a certified letter here for you, Faith. I’ll need you to sign for it.”
Faith looked at the envelope, a plain white 8.5 by 11 number, her blood chilling when she saw the name of the law firm and the return address: Longstreet & Son, Athens, Georgia.
“Thanks, George,” she said, signing the electronic receipt with the stylus he held out for her, glad to see that her hands weren’t shaking too much for the task. Remembering her manners, she asked, “Would you like some sweet tea? I have a batch of sugar cookies I just took out of the oven, too.”
“Thanks, but not today, Faith. I’m running a little behind; my knee’s acting up again. But if it’s not too much trouble, I’ll take a couple of those cookies for my wife. She loves them. Which reminds me – I’m supposed to ask you for the recipe.”
“I’ll write it up and leave it in the box tomorrow,” she said automatically as she slid a dozen or so cookies into a plastic container, then put a couple into his hand.
“That would be great, Faith, thanks.”
Faith remained frozen to the spot for several minutes after George left. The envelope felt like a hundred pound weight in her hand. She held it away from her by the tips of her fingers as if it might suddenly grow teeth and snap at her. What in the world would Nathan’s family law firm be sending to her?