“I guess,” he responded, short, gruff. She couldn’t tell if he was annoyed by remembering that her father was there or because of his bad day. Amelia decided to change the subject.
“So I think I decided about that offer,” she stated, trying to think through how much to share with Steve and how much to edit out.
“Yeah? You get a gig or something?” Though distracted, Steve still reached out and put a hand on his wife’s shoulder, squeezing slightly. Amelia tried not to be annoyed that he had no clue what she was talking about.
“Uh, no. The training with Randy, remember?”
“Yeah, yeah, sorry, babe. Forgot about that. What do you think?” He seemed actually interested and gestured for Amelia to take a chair at the table as he pulled out the one in front of him.
“I really want to do it, but my thing with him today was so . . . strange. Things were great at first. He offered to pay for my license and share profits on some sales till I get on my feet in the business.” She hesitated for a second and remembered that this was the part where she needed to tread lightly.
When they’d gotten back into Broadlands, Randy had driven directly to the day care without even asking if the detour was okay with Amelia. She’d stayed in the car as he ran inside without looking back. He’d been gone only for a short ten minutes, and when he returned, he was white and angry instead of the mess of worry and tears she’d been expecting.
“Well, what do you think? Sounds like it might work out after all, right?” Steve asked, licked his lips, and put his bottle down again, the watermark pattern overlapping the old one, leaving Mickey Mouse ears on the table. He took a second to unbutton the last two buttons on the collar of his polo.
“I don’t know that I’m ready to be gone that much, and I still have Dad to take care of and I’d need a whole new wardrobe and . . .” and Randy scares me a little, she wanted to add at the end but resisted.
“Well, if he thought you’d be good at it, maybe it is something to look at. I mean, you don’t get that many jobs playing weddings or whatever anymore. This could be a good new career for you.”
“Maybe,” she said, feeling strange about the support he was showing and then guilty that she was surprised. “But I don’t think it is going to work out. There was some drama with Randy’s kid, and he had to cut our day short. Honestly, I’m not sure he will even be in Broadlands much longer.”
“What kind of drama?” Steve asked, resting his forearms on the edge of the table, hands clenched in front of him.
“Something with custody. I’m not totally sure, but from what Randy said, it doesn’t look good for him. And some other legal issues that we didn’t really talk about. But I bet he’ll sell the Slattery place. Bet you a million dollars.”
Steve finished off his beer as Amelia was talking. She grabbed the empty bottle, headed over to the counter, and dropped it into the recycling bin under the sink. Then she turned, arms folded across her chest, and looked at Steve a little closer. He seemed to be thinking about something, sitting with his thumb to his lips and biting the tip.
“Well, babe, don’t give up on this idea. I think it is a good one,” he said.
His quiet encouragement was touching and reminded her of the early days of their relationship, when she was going to auditions and long trips to and from Chicago for various jobs. Back then, he was her biggest fan, and it wasn’t about earning a couple of extra bucks but about following her dreams. In a rush of gratitude she hadn’t felt in a long time, Amelia hurried around the table, took Steve’s face in her hands, and pressed her lips against his.
“I love you,” she whispered, and kissed him again before she slowly pulled back, their lips separating slowly.
“I love you too,” he echoed, tracing the lines of her face with his eyes, serious, solemn. “Amelia, I need to tell you something.” He took her hand and guided her into the chair she’d just vacated. She let him put her into her seat, and he pulled her across the tiles.
“What is it? Are you okay?” She put her hand on his face and rubbed the dark stubble on his chin like it was a symbol of how tired he must be and how hard he worked for their family. Steve shook her hand off, the lines on his face growing deeper.
“Don’t be worried about me, Amelia. I don’t deserve it.”
“What . . . what did you do?” Amelia asked, rejected and scared. She leaned back and away from his reach. She had brief flashes of the insurance woman, that weird check in the mail for so much money with her name on it, Steve’s recent interest in insurance for everyone in their family, including her father. “So help me, Steve, if this is about Suze from Country Life, I’m gonna lose it.”
“Suze?” Steve’s mouth quirked up on one side, confused. “You mean Susan Walters?”
“Yeah, you said you weren’t going to use her anymore, and then I got this check in the mail, signed by your friend Sue-z-Q.” Amelia retrieved the envelope from her back pocket and slapped it on the table.
Steve picked up the opened letter, unfolded it, and peered inside. With a slow blink and a deep sigh he refolded the envelope and put it on the table, his fingers curled on top of it.
“This is part of it, but it has nothing to do with Susan. Well, not exactly. Not what you are thinking at least. Like I said . . .” His skin ashen, he paused, hardly able to make eye contact with Amelia. “I’m in trouble . . .”
CHAPTER 25
ELLIE
Wednesday, May 11
3:39 a.m.
The light was on inside the two-story bungalow. It was one of those houses that looked like it was a ranch but had a hidden staircase to a large upper room that was about the size of the living room. That was Amelia’s room growing up.
Ellie got the small office-size room right next to her parents’. The room size used to be a bone of contention between the two sisters, but once Amelia moved out and Ellie had the opportunity to live in the coveted upstairs room, everything changed. She tried it out for one week, moving her stuffed animals and pj’s up to Amelia’s abandoned abode. She loved it while she was listening to Pearl Jam as loudly as she wanted or doing her homework sprawled out on the hardwood floor, but then night would come and the openness felt less like freedom and more like loneliness. Each night sleep came slower and slower until on night seven she watched the morning sun peek through the small window at the crest of the wooden arches where she’d been staring as each minute of each hour ticked by in a seemingly never-ending night. She moved back into her box-like bedroom that very day.
As Travis’s police cruiser pulled up to her house, all the lights were dark except for a faint flicker of the TV in the front room. Chief Brown often fell asleep on his recliner in front of the television, and Ellie would leave him there for the night, tossing a light blanket over him and wishing she were strong enough to carry him to bed like he used to do for her as a child.