Allison Leigh – A Child Under His Tree (страница 8)

He wrapped his legs around her waist and leaned his head on her shoulder. “Can I have ice cream?”

“Not at this hour, bud.” She carried him into the kitchen. She’d spent two hours cleaning it, and there were still stacks of empty boxes and crates lining the small room. Among other things, her mother seemed to have become a pack rat.

Kelly set him on the counter next to the refrigerator and made him half a sandwich. “PB and J,” she said, handing it to him. “Plus milk.”

He swung his foot as he ate. “When do we get to go home?”

“In a few weeks.” She brushed down his hair again. He definitely needed a barber. “We’ve talked about it, remember? We’ll go home just as soon as we can.”

He nodded, licked his finger and drank his milk.

Love for him swelled inside her. She cupped her hand under his chin. “You know what?”

“What?”

She kissed his nose. “I love you.”

“To infinity and beyond!”

She smiled. “You betcha. Come on.” He’d finished his milk already. “Gotta brush your teeth again, then back to bed.” He wrapped his arms around her neck and circled her waist with his legs, clinging like a limpet as she carried him back upstairs.

“Can I have another story?”

She was a sucker where he was concerned. She rubbed her hand down his bare back. “A short one.”

The short story spread into two, then part of a third before his eyes finally closed and she was able to slide off the bed. She turned off the light and left the room, leaving the door ajar so she could hear him if he needed her.

She passed her mother’s room and hesitated at the closed door. She inhaled deeply, then quickly pushed it open. It was the first time she’d gone inside the room since her mother’s death, and she did so now only because she still needed to choose an outfit for Georgette’s burial. She’d promised the funeral home that she’d deliver it the next day.

The room hadn’t changed during Kelly’s absence, any more than Kelly’s bedroom had, except that like the kitchen, here too Georgette had stored dozens and dozens of containers. Empty shoe boxes. Empty plastic bags. Even empty coffee cans.

Kelly was going to have to clean up all of it before she could put the house on the market.

She opened the closet. Typically, there were only a few choices. For Kelly’s entire life, her mother had run her spit of land all on her own. She’d lived in jeans and boots. There was only one dress for those times when Georgette couldn’t get out of going to church.

Kelly pulled out the dress. Studied it for a long while.

Then she shook her head and hung it back up and chose a pair of clean jeans instead. Her mother was who she was. Burying her didn’t change that. The metal hangers squeaked as she pushed them on the rod until she found a decent plaid blouse. It was cotton and obviously new, judging by the tag still hanging from it.

She set it on the bed along with the jeans and went to the chest of drawers. Georgette Rasmussen had never owned lingerie. For her, underwear was underwear. Serviceable and plain. Kelly chose socks and cowboy boots. The only pair in the closet that weren’t run down at the heels. She bundled all of it together in her arms and turned to leave the room, stopping at the last minute to grab the small metal box sitting on top of the chest. Her mother’s version of a jewelry box.

She left the room, closing the door firmly, and carried everything downstairs. She used a kitchen towel to polish up the boots as best she could. Shiny boots were another thing that Georgette had considered a waste of time, so Kelly knew better than to look for polish.

She set everything inside one of the plentiful boxes stacked around the room and flipped open the jewelry box. Her mother had only ever worn a plain gold chain necklace, but it wasn’t there. The only things inside the metal box were a couple faded photographs of her mother when she’d been young and still smiling—which meant before Kelly—and a few rings. Old-looking and probably belonging to Georgette’s mother. Kelly could barely remember her. She’d died when Kelly was little.

She pulled out a tarnished ring, trying and failing to picture her grandmother. All she knew about her was what Georgette had told her. Kelly had always assumed it to be the truth.

Yet Georgette had told at least one big lie in her life. She’d told Caleb—told everyone, it seemed—that Kelly had gotten married.

Why bother? Had she actually wanted to protect Kelly’s reputation?

It was too late for an answer. She would never know what had motivated her mother now.

She dropped the ring back in the box, closed it with a snap and went to bed.

* * *

“Kelly! Kelly Rasmussen, hold up!”

“Hold on, buddy.” Kelly caught Tyler’s hand and stopped him from stepping off the curb as she looked back to see who was yelling her name. It had been a busy morning. Dropping off the clothes at the funeral home. Signing some paperwork at the lawyer’s. Getting Tyler into the barbershop.

“But I’m hungry.”

“I know.” She barely got out the words before the dark-haired woman reached them and caught Kelly’s neck in a tight hold. “Pam,” she managed to squeeze out. “It’s been a long time.”

“Rob and I are so sorry about your mama, honey.” Pam finally let go of Kelly’s neck and crouched down to Tyler’s level. “Hey, there, cutie pie. I’m your cousin.” More accurately, the woman was married to one of Kelly’s distant cousins. Even so, Pam had known Kelly all of her life. “But you can call me Auntie Pam. How’s that?”

Tyler cast Kelly a wary look. She gave him a calm smile. “Pam used to babysit me when I was your age,” she told him.

Pam laughed, tweaking Tyler’s nose lightly before rising. “Sure. Make me sound old, why don’t you? I was only sixteen when I babysat you. Now I hear you’re an RN even!”

“I see word still spreads as fast as ever in Weaver.” She hadn’t mentioned becoming a nurse to anyone but Caleb. And that had been just the night before.

“Time brings progress, but some things just stay the same and the grapevine is one of them. Puts all other means of social media to shame.”

Kelly smiled despite herself. “I don’t do any kind of social media. Never had the time nor the inclination.”

“Which explains why we still need a grapevine in Weaver. How else would we keep up with anyone?” Pam grinned. “So proud of you, though. I’m sure your mom was, too, even if she couldn’t bring herself to say so.” Pam’s smile softened. “I wanted to get by your place yesterday, but I was working a double shift at the sheriff’s. Is there anything we can do for you?”

The offer reminded Kelly of Caleb’s. Not that she needed any sort of reminder.

“The funeral’s pretty well taken care of,” she said. “The lawyer handled most of it. Evidently, my mother left him instructions a few years ago.”

“Sounds like Georgette. Probably because she didn’t trust anyone else to get things right, rather than not wanting to burden her loved ones.” Pam made a face. “Sorry. Shouldn’t speak ill of the dead. Especially to you.”

Kelly smiled humorlessly. “It’s all right. You’ve only said what everyone already knows.”

Pam gave her a sympathetic look. “You and Tyler are welcome to stay with Rob and me at our place. We have plenty of room.”

Kelly was genuinely touched. “Even though I haven’t spoken to any of you in all this time?”

Pam clicked her tongue. “There’s not a soul who knew your mom who blames you for that, hon. She made it pretty obvious she didn’t approve of you eloping. She was so mad about it, all she’d say about him was his name was Joe.”

Kelly opened her mouth, then closed it and smiled weakly. She rubbed her hand over Tyler’s neatly cut hair. “It...it doesn’t matter anymore.”

Pam nodded sympathetically. “These things happen,” she said. “I meant what I said, though. You’re welcome to stay with us. We’re right here in town.”

“Thanks, but there’s a lot to be done out at the house, and I only have a few weeks off work. I want to get the farm on the market as soon as possible.”

“So you’re going to sell it, then?”

“If it will sell.” The house was in deplorable condition, and the farmland was equally neglected.

“Selfishly, we’d love to think about you moving back home. But I do understand. Your mom—” Pam broke off and shook her head. “Well, it was her way or the highway. She didn’t want help from anyone.”

And the state of the farm showed it.

“Mommy,” Tyler said, “my stomach’s growly again.”

“I know, baby.” She knew Pam’s propensity for gossip. But she had never been anything but nice to Kelly. “I promised him lunch after we got his hair cut,” she told Pam.

“Take him to Ruby’s. It’s still open until two.” Pam gestured down the street. “Tabby owns the place now.”

“Tabby Taggart?”

“Tabby Clay now. She and Justin got married earlier this year. Bubba Bumble’s the cook. Do you remember him?”

She nodded, trying to imagine Justin Clay and Tabby as a married couple. From Kelly’s earliest memories in school, they along with Caleb had been like the Three Musketeers. Kelly hadn’t been part of that crew until she and Caleb started high school.

Until he’d picked her up and dusted her off after she’d done a header over her bicycle right in front of him.