“Yes. But like I said before, I promise you we won’t be any trouble. I’ll cook and clean for you and you won’t even know I’m here. Mostly I just want you to get to know Owen. Your daddy would have wanted that. I’m sure he would have put it in writing if he’d known some tractor-trailer was going to plow into his car that day on his way to work. But he talked about it a lot, and that’s why I knew I had to bring Owen.” She swallowed nervously but didn’t lower her gaze. “Since we gave up waiting for you to knock on our door.”
Merritt didn’t move or say anything for a long while, which made Loralee nervous. It had been her experience that people who thought for a long time before they spoke usually had something to say that Loralee didn’t want to hear. And that meant she always wanted to postpone the response with chatter.
“I was thinking that it looks like this saint statue was placed on a tree root or a rock, which is why he’s all crooked. I bet standing that way all day long gives him a headache! Anyway, I was thinking we could dig him out and reposition him so that it looks like he and Mr. Bunny are having a conversation back here under this big oak tree. . . .”
“Is it money? You said my father left you enough money that you didn’t need to worry, but I’m wondering if you just said that so I wouldn’t guess the real reason you’re here. But it has to be money; otherwise why would you have packed up your lives and ended up here with me?”
“Money . . . ?” Loralee stared back at Merritt, wondering whether she’d missed part of the conversation, thinking she might have been distracted by imagining what a little mascara and lip gloss and a blouse in any color other than beige might do to enhance Merritt’s appearance and probably her attitude.
Merritt continued. “Was the life insurance not enough? Or did you already go through it? My settlement was generous, but I assumed my father had left the bulk of his estate to you and Owen. He was the kind of guy who’d make sure you were taken care of. Did you spend it all?”
Loralee blinked, trying to erase the sting of tears. She gripped her pink notebook to her chest, squeezing hard and wishing she could open it right then and there and write down what she really wanted to say to Merritt. Jumping to conclusions is often the only exercise some people get, and is always easier than finding the patience to discover the truth.
She opened her mouth to defend herself, to tell Merritt she was wrong. But a river breeze had found its way to them in the forlorn garden, playing with the wind chimes and twisting the oak leaves so their silver undersides seemed to wink at her as if they were in on a joke.
Loralee lifted her chin. “You’re right. We’re broke. I have no means to support my son, and I’m desperate to find a place to stay until we can get back on our feet again.”
Merritt looked at the dancing leaves, too, but instead of seeing winking leaves she appeared to see something else she couldn’t take charge of or make go away.
“Does Owen know?”
Loralee thought quickly, then shook her head. “No. I kept money aside for Owen’s expenses, and that’s what I’ve been using to buy him clothes and food, and the gas that got us here.”
“Did you sell your house?”
Loralee nodded.
“And the money from that, where did it go?”
Loralee kept her chin and voice steady. “We had a lot of debt. Mostly credit cards. They’re all paid off now.”
“And your medications? How are you paying for those?”
Loralee felt like she’d swallowed a cotton boll, wondering how Merritt knew. She relaxed slightly when she remembered her purse falling and the pill bottles rolling across the floor. “I’m covered for another couple of months and then I’ll have to figure something out.”
Merritt nodded, her gaze focused on the statue. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth right at the beginning?”
Loralee didn’t pause. “Because I thought you’d turn us away if it looked like we needed more from you than you were ready to give.” She watched as the shadows in Merritt’s eyes darkened as she realized that Loralee was right. It reminded Loralee of Owen as a toddler, with crumbs on his face and chin, denying that he’d eaten a cookie. Just because you say something over and over and believe it with all your heart will never make it true. It was one of the first truths she’d written in her journal.
Softly Loralee added, “You have your own burdens, and it was never my intention to add to them. I’d hoped that we could help each other until I got on my feet again, and that it would bring you and Owen closer. He’s your flesh and blood, Merritt, even if I’m not. Unfortunately, we’re a package deal, but I’m hoping you can overlook that.”