Chapter 3 #2
Anastasia smiles softly. “It was a total accident. Water under the bridge. You have to come by the coffee shop. Let me treat you to a coffee and a muffin as a thank you.”
Now I smile, appreciating her kindness. I’m not sure I would have known what to do if I found a strange woman in my boyfriend’s apartment, but Anastasia doesn’t seem like the jealous type.
Whew. Let’s just add drama to the list of things I’ve had enough of in my life.
“That’s really not necessary, but thank you. ”
“It’s absolutely necessary. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
I swallow hard. “Uh, sure. Maybe.”
“Great.” Anastasia smiles again, then reaches into her pocket and withdraws a set of keys.
After working a silver one off, she offers it to me.
“Here’s the key. Can you lock it up for me?
I need to get this over to him, then get back to the shop to get everything ready for tomorrow.
Nothing like being the owner and only employee. ”
“Uh, sure.” I take the key.
“Great. Thanks. And, Katelyn?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t beat yourself up over the pepper spray. Garrison’s the most understanding guy in the world, and he’s not at all upset.”
“I do feel guilty, but thanks for saying that.”
“Anytime. See you tomorrow at the coffee shop!” she calls out as she leaves me standing in the apartment. I stare down at the key in my hand. Who would give a stranger a key to her apartment? Do I just have that “I won’t steal anything” face?
Turning, I survey the place. It’s decorated plainly but organized, and a black leather-bound Bible sits on the coffee table. There are no pictures on the walls, but there are mix-matched frames on various shelves of the bookcase.
Before I study those closer, though, I do another round of cleaning on the stain, then wash my hands. After drying them on a towel, I cross over to the shelves to get a closer look at what things a man like Garrison Holt would put on display.
Random books, ranging from non-fiction to fiction, line the shelves, but it’s the pictures that really capture my attention.
Garrison wearing a military uniform, standing in front of a bunch of small children.
There’s a little girl in his arms, and she’s laughing and looking up at him like he’s her entire world.
Honestly, they’re all looking at him like that.
Then there’s a photo of him standing in front of a group of teenagers outside the community center. He’s smiling widely, and each of them—even the ones you can tell are trying to fight it—has a grin on their face.
Is that who Garrison Holt is?
A man who loves working with children?
A man who does good in a world riddled with evil?
Swallowing hard, I turn away and head back toward the stain. Stay focused, Katelyn. The guy wouldn’t want me going through his stuff, and neither would his incredibly sweet girlfriend.
So, even though I would love to know more, I focus only on what I came here to do—make things easier for him when he comes home.
By the time I get back to my apartment, I’m exhausted. My arms are sore from scrubbing, but I’m more than happy with the results. I’ll check back in tomorrow morning before my shift, but I was able to get most of the stain up, leaving only a dark shadow.
Thomas is sitting at our small dining room table, math book open, with an apple in his hand. He glances up at me. “That was a while.”
“I cleaned up the blood.” I throw the now-empty bottle of hydrogen peroxide into the trash and add it to the running grocery list pinned to the refrigerator.
“That was nice. You okay?”
“I am.” I smile at him, forcing the exhaustion down. “How are you doing?”
“Fine. Almost done.”
“Yeah?” Joy warms my chest. He’s been working so hard to get settled in this new school, and I know keeping his grades up has been a struggle since even before our world was turned upside down.
With them falling the way they have lately, seeing him actually put forth effort makes me happier than I can say.
“I can’t go to baseball camp if I don’t get my grades up.” He grins at me. “That’s fueling my motivation.”
My stomach plummets because financially?
I’m not entirely sure how I’m going to swing the cost of the five-day baseball camp he wants to go to over spring break in just over a month, but I know he’s desperate to go.
“It’s a good motivation to have,” I reply as I head into the kitchen for a glass of water.
Hopefully, the liquid will ease my dry throat.
How am I going to afford four hundred dollars? The payment is due in less than two weeks, so I’d better figure it out soon. Maybe I can find out if anyone else in town is hiring. Another job won’t hurt. Who needs sleep?
He writes something down on his paper, then closes the binder and math book. After stretching, he grabs both and stands. “I’m going to head to bed. Practice starts first thing in the morning.”
“You said you need to be at the school by six?”
“Yeah. I can walk if I need to. I know it’s early.”
“Absolutely not,” I reply. “It’s not early at all. I am so excited for you, sweetie.”
“Thanks, Mom.” He smiles at me, a wide, bright smile that intensifies the fear in my heart. Because if he knew just how impossible it’s going to be for the camp, uniform, and equipment, I know he’d give up on his dream to play baseball.
“You’re welcome. See you in the morning.”
“See you in the morning. Love you, Mom.” He kisses me on the cheek.
“I love you, too, honey. See you in the morning.”
With one final smile, he heads into his bedroom and closes the door.
As soon as I’m alone, I wrap both arms around myself and struggle to keep my emotions in check as I fight the horrible thoughts that we were better off before.
We weren’t.
Financially, we had it all. A house far too big for three people, a fully stocked refrigerator, a private chef, three maids…but physically? Mentally? We were drowning. It was only a matter of time before Victor put his hands on Thomas or did to me in front of our son what he already did in private.
The fists weren’t worth the financial stability that came with them. Even if it means I get another job, I’ll do it. Whatever it takes to make sure my son has everything he needs. That he never feels the absence of a man who never even wanted to be a father and certainly didn’t let me forget it.
After turning off the lights to the kitchen, I head into the living room and remove the couch cushions to pull out my bed. That way, it’s ready as soon as I’m out of the shower.
God’s got this, I remind myself. He’ll show me the path, and everything will be fine. But deep down, those thoughts that I’m not good enough for God, my son—for anything—threaten to drown me.