Chapter 6
Joanne lay on her back beside Fiona in Sloan’s bed, staring at the ceiling.
She’d spent two hours on her phone, trying to guess the password to David’s bank account without success, before Googling how long it took for a family to receive a dead person’s assets.
While it might not have been the best source of information, every Reddit user agreed it would take a heck of a lot longer than a week.
That’s assuming the money was in his account, which she doubted. She had a hard time imagining straightlaced David stealing a nickel from anyone, but even if he really had taken Bannon’s money, such a clandestine act seemed to require greater effort in hiding the proceeds.
With a sigh, she flopped onto her side, but every time she pressed her cheek into the pillow, all she could smell was Sloan.
Fear for her children’s safety and her residual feelings for Sloan took turns at the forefront of her mind, neither one of which was helping her sleep, though the latter was highly preferable to ponder than the first.
She pulled back the covers and walked to a wide double window, moonlight illuminating the snowfall and white yard below.
With a sigh, she leaned her forehead against the glass.
She never would have come here if she knew it meant relying on him.
He was the one person she couldn’t stand to see her desperate.
He was the only one who knew just how bad things had been at home.
Even when she married David, she’d glossed over her childhood with generalizations and platitudes about all she had learned.
But Sloan knew the truth, the nitty-gritty of what happened, and to have him be the one to see her back down on her knees was almost too much to bear, especially with him asking questions about her relationship with David.
These past thirteen years, she’d tried not to think of Sloan at all. Usually, she succeeded. She’d been so angry when they broke up, so dejected and hurt, and seeing him again brought her right back to the moment he left. She had loved him with every fiber of her being. He was just having fun.
She sank to the floor and leaned back against the wall, pulling her nightgown over her knees and letting herself remember.
Sloan was going to basic training in a week.
They’d planned to ask Sloan’s mom if Jo could stay here in the house to finish out her last year of high school, but before they got the chance, Evelyn announced she was going on a whirlwind European adventure.
Jo had listened to the details with mounting anxiety, sharing the occasional worried stare with Sloan across the table. “I could house-sit for you,” she offered.
“Aw, thank you, sweetie, but it’s all taken care of. Louise down at the YMCA has a cousin who needed housing for the summer. I’ve rented it to him and his family, so I’m all set.”
Later that night, Sloan held her cradled against his chest. “So you’ll come with me to basic. Get an apartment. I’m sure you can find a waitressing job out there just as easily as you can here.”
“I won’t be able to afford an apartment on tips.”
“And I won’t be able to help out until I’m through basic, then advanced training and BUDS. You could stay here and get a place of your own.”
“When school starts next week, I won’t be able to work enough hours to afford it.”
“You could drop out, at least for now.”
“Are you kidding?”
He stroked her back. “I don’t think there’s an easy solution.”
She bit her lip. She could think of one that would make all their problems disappear, in addition to making her happy. “We could get married.”
His hand stopped moving. “What, like now?”
She propped herself up on her elbow. “Why not? We’d be husband and wife. We wouldn’t have to sneak around when we got back. Your mom would let me live here, or she’d help us afford a place until we got on our feet. I’d never have to go back to my dad’s. We could make a real home.”
“We’re a little young to get married.”
“Plenty of people get married at our age.”
He unhooked his arm from around her shoulders and sat up. “You’re serious.”
“Of course I am.”
“Jo, you know I love you. But I don’t want to get married. Not yet, anyway. Are things really that bad at your dad’s?”
She felt like she’d been slapped. “You know the answer to that.”
“Your uncle’s been gone a long time.”
“That isn’t the point! I don’t want to be there.”
“And I don’t want to go to basic and leave you, but we have to find some way to get through this. Even if it’s not ideal, it’s an option.”
“That isn’t fair.”
“It isn’t fair to assume my mother will pay for us to live if we got married. Jesus, Jo, how can we get married when we can’t even support ourselves?”
Her cheeks flushed hot. “We would find a way to make it work.”
“On somebody else’s dime. No, thank you.”
“That’s all you can think about? The money?”
“Easy for you to say.”
“What does that mean?”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Forget it.”
“Because my family’s poor. Right? Is that it? My family’s poor, so I don’t get to tell your family what to do with their money.” She got up, picking her clothes up off the floor and hastily getting dressed.
“Okay, yes. We come from very different backgrounds.”
She blew out air and wrestled with her sneaker. “Oh, just say it. I’m not good enough for you, and I never was. Trailer trash. You were never going to marry Old Man Buckley’s daughter.”
“Stop getting dressed. Let’s talk about this.”
“What is there to talk about? I just got a real good look into your heart, and I don’t like what I see.”
“You know I love you.”
“Do you?” She pulled her sweatshirt over her head. “Do you love me enough to marry me and take me away from this place?”
He said nothing, only stared at her from across the room. She moved to the door. “Don’t call me. Don’t come to the diner and see me. In two weeks, you’ll be gone and finally free of me.”
She wanted him to argue with her, to insist he was wrong and whisper apologies into her hair. Instead, he said, “We could use the time to think about what we really want.”
She could still feel the devastation his words wrought inside her.
Her world had been shattered that night, leaving her surrounded by shards with no way to fix it.
A tear slipped down her cheek. A draft crept around the old window, and she hugged herself against the cold.
Some things never changed, and she was grateful this house, at least, was one of them.