Разделы библиотеки
Starlight On Willow Lake - Сьюзен Виггс - Читать любовный роман онлайн в женской библиотеке LadyLib.Net
Starlight On Willow Lake - Сьюзен Виггс - Скачать любовный роман в женской библиотеке LadyLib.Net
Виггс Сьюзен
Starlight On Willow Lake
| Предыдущая страница | Следующая страница |
4 Страница
“Shit.” Faith McCallum stabbed a finger at the keyboard of the ancient hand-me-down laptop. “Come on, you son of a bitch, work for me one last time.”
The job posting had finally brought results. As her email had flashed past, she’d seen the subject line: “Response to your posting.” But the moment she’d clicked on it, the damn thing had gone into blue-screen meltdown.
She had rebooted, but now the computer screen was frozen on its opening page—daily devotions for diabetics. Today’s thought was particularly annoying. Leap, and the net will appear.
Faith had done her share of leaping, but so far, she hadn’t accomplished anything but a bumpy landing. Leap of faith. Ha-ha.
She got up in frustration, went outside and refilled the cat’s water dish. It wasn’t her cat. It wasn’t even her dish, for that matter. The stray had started coming around a few weeks ago; it wouldn’t let anyone near it, so Faith named it Fraidy and put out food and water under the stoop.
Returning to the computer, she stared for a moment at the still-frozen screen, then tried clicking the link to the job-posting site she had been checking three times a day, without fail. Her search for a new position was getting desperate. The home health care agency she had been working for hadn’t sent anything her way in three months. Even when they did find work for her, the outfit didn’t pay her enough to sustain a pet gerbil, let alone two growing daughters. Faith was already two months behind on the rent, and the place was under new management.
In desperation, she had posted her résumé on every home health aide job site she could find, hoping to negotiate a living wage on her own rather than going through yet another agency that helped itself to a hefty percentage of her wages.
Finally, the sluggish browser responded. The mobile home park’s “free” Wi-Fi unfurled at leaden speed. She usually got several chores done while waiting for a page to load.
“Mo-oo-om!” Faith’s younger daughter, Ruby, stretched the word to several whiny syllables. The little girl stomped inside, slamming the door open wide. The impact caused the rented double-wide to shudder. “Cara forgot to wait for me at the bus. And she stole my lunch ticket—again.”
“Did not,” said Cara, following her younger sister into the room and flopping down on the tiny swaybacked sofa. With elaborate nonchalance, she opened her AP biology textbook.
“Did so.”
“Did not.”
“Then where did my lunch ticket go, huh?” Ruby demanded. She shrugged out of her backpack, depositing it on the built-in table.
“Who knows?” Cara asked without looking up. She twisted a strand of purple-dyed hair around her index finger.
“You know,” Ruby said, “because you stold it.”
“Stole,” Cara corrected her sister. “And I didn’t.”
“You’re the one who took it last time.”
“That was a month ago, and you were sick that day.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Did you eat anything for lunch?” Faith broke in, exasperated.
Ruby pulled her mouth into a pout that somehow made her look even more adorable than usual. Sometimes Faith believed Ruby’s cuteness was the only thing that kept her alive, she was so fragile. “Mrs. Geiger gave me half of her tuna fish sandwich and a carton of milk. And those yucky dried apple chips. I hate tuna fish. But then after school, Charlie O’Donnell gave me Bugles during soccer practice.”
Ruby had a little-girl crush on Charlie O’Donnell, an eighth-grader who helped coach the primary school soccer team.
“Get some water and sit down,” Faith said. “We’ll check your levels in a little bit.” A familiar knot of tension tightened inside her. Every day, Ruby’s type 1 diabetes brought a new worry, and a new challenge. She turned to Cara. “You’re supposed to wait for her at the bus stop.”
“I forgot.”
“How can you forget something you’re supposed to do every day?”
“She knows the way home.”
Faith suspected the real reason was that Cara didn’t want people to see where they lived. Lakeside Estates Motor Court wasn’t all bad, but no kid wanted to admit she lived in a trailer park. Despite its name, the place was not beside the lake, and it was far from an estate, but it was safe and close to the girls’ schools.
The page finally loaded, and Faith turned her attention to navigating her way to the job-posting response. Outside, the Guptas’ dog went crazy barking, heralding the daily arrival of the mailman in the central courtyard. Ruby, who was scared of dogs, cringed at the sound.
“I’ll go.” Cara shoved aside her homework and went to check the mail.
The response to Faith’s carefully worded posting, offering her services as a skilled caregiver, looked promising. She leaned toward the screen, her interest piqued. “We’re looking for an experienced individual to supervise all aspects of in-home care for a wheelchair-bound lady with a spinal cord injury. Salary and benefits package to include on-site living quarters.”
Okay, so maybe not. Faith and her girls couldn’t all fit into a closet-sized guest room in some woman’s house. Still, the position was right here in Avalon, which made it worth looking into, because the girls hated the idea of changing schools at the very end of the school year.
She wrote down the contact information in case the laptop crapped out again. Then she replied to the interview request, suggesting a meeting the following morning. Tomorrow was Saturday, so Cara would have to miss work at the bakery to watch Ruby, which meant squabbling, but that was too bad. Desperate times called for desperate measures.
Cara came in from the motor court, sorting through the mail. “Bills and junk,” she said.
“You were expecting maybe we’d won the Publishers Clearing House?”
Cara dropped the bills on the counter next to Faith and put the rest in the recycle bin at her feet.
Faith picked up a glossy brochure. “What is this from Johns Hopkins? It’s addressed to you.”
Cara shrugged and turned away. “Like I said, junk mail.”
Faith regarded the beautiful photograph of a college campus. A letter on university letterhead slipped out. There was a personal note at the bottom—“Cara, you have a bright future ahead of you”—and it appeared to be signed by hand from the director of admissions. “It says here that based on your test scores, you’re invited to apply early, and the admission fee will be waived.”
Another shrug. “Not interested.”
“You didn’t tell me you got your scores back.”
“Oh. So I got my scores back.”
Cara drove Faith crazy as if it were her job to do so. Daily.
“And?” Faith demanded.
“And I did okay.”
“Cara Rose McCallum.”
Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Cara dug in her backpack and came up with a printout.
Faith scanned the numbers, assessing her elder daughter’s verbal and quantitative achievements. If she was reading it right, her daughter had crushed the hardest standardized test given at Avalon High. “And you were going to show me this...when?”
“It’s just a bunch of numbers.” She flopped down again and went back to her homework.
“Numbers that tell us you’re in the ninety-ninth percentile of students who took the test.”
“Does that mean she’s really smart?” Ruby asked.
“Really, really smart,” said Faith. Pride, exasperation and frustration mingled together. When a girl was as smart as Cara, she should be proud of her own potential, not blasé or, worse, defeated. Faith wanted to give her the world. She wanted to give both girls the world. Instead, she had them living in a trailer park while she held on by the tips of her fingernails.
“If she’s so smart,” Ruby mused, “why does she keep forgetting me after school?”
Faith ignored the question as she looked through the bills—two ominously thick packets from St. Francis Hospital and Diabetes Center. She had been paying a dead man’s bills for six years. The vows said “until death do us part,” but clearly the hospital billing system still believed that even in death, the bills didn’t have to end.
The next envelope gave her a jolt. She opened it, read the single page. “Oh, come on,” she muttered under her breath. “Really?”
“What now?” asked Cara.
Faith sent her a warning look. “E-V-I-C—”
“T-I-O-N. You don’t have to spell it in front of me,” said Ruby. “I know how to spell it, and I know what it means.” She got up and crossed the room, leaning over Faith’s shoulder. “And I know what final notice means.”
The new management company gave her no quarter. She had tried reasoning with them and had held them at bay for several weeks, but apparently they were done waiting. She hated the tone of the letter. Did they think she actually had the money and was holding out on them?
Cara slammed her book shut. “It means we’re moving again,” she snapped. “That’s great. Just great. Two weeks before school lets out. Maybe we could go for a record—how many times do we have to change schools in one year?”
“Cara, I’m not doing this on purpose.” Faith felt sick. “I know you like Avalon High. I’ll try my best to see if you can stay in the district.”
Cara yanked her bike helmet from a closet by the door. “I’m going to work. I guess I’ll have to give notice at the bakery.”
“Come on, Cara—”
“It says we’ve got twenty-four hours.” Cara snatched up the letter and shoved it under Faith’s nose.
“I’ll figure something out,” said Faith. “I always do.”
“She always does,” Ruby said loyally.
Faith gave her a hug, drawing Cara into it. “What did I do to deserve you two? You’re not in the ninety-ninth percentile. You’re in the one hundred and tenth percentile. A hundred and ten percent awesome.”
“Right,” said Cara, stepping back and cracking a smile for the first time just before she went out the door. “That’s us. A hundred and ten percent pure, unadulterated awesome. I’ve got to go.”
“Bring me a kolache,” Ruby piped up.
“Sure thing.” The Sky River Bakery, where Cara worked, made delicious sugar-free kolaches. Faith’s daughter liked working there. She liked her school.
She hated being broke all the time.
But not nearly as much as Faith hated it. She watched her elder daughter ride away on a bike she’d snatched from the donation pile at Helpline House, a local charity. Other kids had cars, but Cara didn’t even have her license yet, because the driver’s ed fees were too high, not to mention insurance for a teenage driver.
She sat down and drew Ruby onto her knees, holding her close. Then she tightened her arms around the child in her lap, feeling her younger daughter’s impossibly small frame. Ruby felt as fragile as a baby bird. “Let’s check on your sugar bugs,” she said. The endless routine of testing her levels, administering insulin and managing her diet and exercise was always at the forefront of their lives.
“My meds cost the moon,” Ruby said.
“Where did you hear that?”
“The school nurse. I wasn’t supposed to hear, but I heard. So I asked her what the moon costs and she said it’s just an expression, but I know it means it costs a lot of money. Which we don’t have.”
“We have exactly what we need,” said Faith.
* * *
When the girls were asleep, that was when the demons came to visit. The ones that promised Faith she was drowning and taking the girls down with her. Sometimes in her more lunatic moments, she silently raged at Dennis, as if all this were his fault. And it wasn’t, of course. It wasn’t his fault for having a severe form of diabetes with fatal complications, any more than it was Faith’s fault for loving him.
It wasn’t his fault their younger daughter had the same disease.
No one’s fault, but Faith was left to deal with it.
Late that night—their last night in Unit 12 of Lakeside Estates—Faith realized it was preferable to stay awake with her own thoughts than to sleep with demons, so she got up and finished the last of the packing. It wasn’t much. The unit had come fully furnished, so it was really just their clothing and personal belongings, which fit easily into the paratransit van.
The van was from Dennis’s final year, when he’d been in a wheelchair that had to be raised and lowered by the van elevator. He had known he was terminal and had made the rash decision to spend the last of their savings traveling across the country from LA to New York, seeing the sights of America in the midst of a long, sad farewell. Faith had known it was a reckless move on his part, but how did you say no to a dying man?
Most of their mementos were digital photos, but there was one framed shot Faith cherished, showing the four of them lying on a hill of grass somewhere in Kentucky. A friendly local had gamely climbed a tree to take the unusual shot. They were laughing in that moment, their faces full of love. The joy in Dennis’s eyes was palpable. On their unforgettable family trip, they had learned to steal moments like this, to wring every drop of happiness from them.
She carefully wrapped the framed photo in her favorite Dennis artifact—an impossibly soft woven blanket in the traditional McCallum tartan from his native Scotland. For months after his death, the blanket had held his scent, but by now it was faded, and she couldn’t even remember what he’d smelled like.
She placed the wrapped photograph in an old duffel bag. The useless laptop emitted a soft chime, signaling an incoming email.
Faith jumped up to check it.
She had a job interview, first thing in the morning.
Получить полную версию книги можно по ссылке - Здесь
| Предыдущая страница | Следующая страница |
Поиск любовного романа
|
Партнеры