Soaring (Magdalene #2)

I was uncertain about this, therefore told them, “I’m not sure I’m ready.”

“Okay, then don’t be ready,” Alyssa gave in instantly. “First, we pimp your house. Then, we go on the prowl. You call it. We’re there. Lunch wore off about half a minute after they ate it so now I gotta get my brood home or they’re gonna start eating your couch and that’s the only thing you got left to sit on.”

I looked to her brood, which was expansive. Every one of them was crashed on my large sectional, looking cranky.

She corralled them out of the house and into her SUV while I said good-bye to them along with Amber, who took off with her two friends, both named Taylor (though one was a boy and one was a girl) as well as handing out hugs and giving and receiving thanks from the last moms who left.

This left me with Josie, both of us standing at the door.

“I delayed because I wanted to be certain you’re okay,” she explained her lollygagging.

“I’m good. I have a couch. I have a bed. And unless someone sold it, I have a bottle of wine,” I replied on a smile.

“No, Amelia, I dawdled because I wanted to be certain you’re okay.”

I pulled my lower lip between my teeth.

Josie’s eyes dropped to watch.

Then she said softly, “I see.”

I let my lip go and whispered, “I need to decorate.”

It made no sense, couldn’t make any sense to anyone but me.

Somehow, when Josie lifted her gaze to mine, I knew it made sense to her too.

“Then we shall be certain to get on that immediately.”

Why was that such a relief?

“I love it that you and Alyssa are helping,” I told her honestly. “I—”

“I love it you want us to help,” she cut me off and I felt more relief that she understood and I didn’t have to say it. “A very short time ago, I was new here too. And I had many who embraced me. I know how it feels. So I might love it more, seeing as you’re giving me the opportunity to return that to somebody.”

I couldn’t say we’d gotten to know each other very well in the time it took to pull this house sale off. There were certain things you shared just because you were communicating but nothing had been that deep.

I could say, although she was an unusual woman, I knew she was one I liked.

Now I could say I’d been right in doing that.

I took a chance, reached out a hand and grabbed hers.

I squeezed briefly and let it go. “I’ll call you. Set something up. We’ll get Alyssa and start Cliff Blue Project, Phase Two.”

She nodded as she reached out, grabbed my hand, but she didn’t squeeze it briefly and let it go.

She held it tight and didn’t let go.

“And I’ll look forward to your call and think of wonderful places to take you that will inspire you.”

“Thanks,” I whispered.

“My pleasure,” she whispered back, her hand tightening.

I tightened mine too.

We held on as she said, “All you gave today, I cannot say. Jake did a preliminary count, Amelia, and we’re stunned at what we raised but not surprised,” she threw out a hand to my empty space, “given your generosity. That money will most assuredly cover new equipment plus gym time, something Jake always took a hit on, which meant the gym’s bottom line suffered, rather drastically. But he never even considered letting the league go, and now, for the first time, that won’t be an issue. He might even be able to afford to get the boys into a better ring for their matches with decent seating for parents, something the league’s never been able to do. You’ll need to come and see the boys when the season is on so you can witness what you’ve done for them and how much they enjoy it.”

“You’re on for that.”

She smiled.

I smiled back.

She let me go on a warm squeeze and said, “Farewell, Amelia, see you very soon.”

“Very soon, Josie.”

She turned to leave and I lifted my hand and waved as she did.

She waved back.

I made sure she was safely on the road before I closed and locked the door.

I turned back to the room, the light feeling I had escaping me completely as the cavernous space suddenly didn’t seem like an invitation to create beauty, but instead with the quiet after a busy day, a crushing emptiness that could never be appropriately filled.

“Clean palette,” I murmured to myself, moving to the kitchen and finding that my last bottle of wine had not been sold.

I opened it, poured a glass in a plastic cup (for I no longer had wineglasses) and opened the fridge.

I stared at the picked over sandwiches and curled my lip.

I hadn’t even had breakfast, what with everyone lining the street so early. All I’d had time for was wolfing down a small bag of chips.

But none of that mess looked appealing.

I closed the fridge.

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