Reminders of Him

As we were pulling out of his driveway, I pressed my forehead against the passenger window of Scotty’s car. “That was mortifying. I think your mother heard us last night. Did you see how tense she was?”

“It’s jarring for her,” Scotty said. “She’s my mother. She can’t imagine me screwing any girl; it has nothing to do with you in particular.”

I fell back against the seat and sighed. “I liked your dad.”

Scotty laughed. “You’ll love my mother too. Next time we visit them, I’ll make sure and fuck you before we get here so she can pretend I don’t do things like that.”

“And maybe stop smoking.”

Scotty grabbed my hand. “I can do that. Next time, she’ll love you so much, she’ll be pushing for a wedding and grandbabies.”

“Yeah,” I said wistfully. “Maybe.” But I doubted it.

Girls like me just didn’t seem to fit in with any family.

CHAPTER TWENTY

LEDGER

It’s been three days since she was in the bar, and three days since I was last in the grocery store. I told myself I wasn’t going to come back here. I decided I’d just start shopping at Walmart again, but after having dinner with Diem last night, I spent the entire night thinking about Kenna.

I’ve noticed since she’s been back in town that the more time I spend with Diem, the more curious I am about Kenna.

I compare Diem’s mannerisms to hers now that I have something to compare them to. Even Diem’s personality seems to make more sense now. Scotty was straightforward. Concrete. He wasn’t very imaginative, but I saw that as a good quality. He wanted to know how things worked, and he wanted to know why. He didn’t waste time on anything that wasn’t science based.

Diem is the opposite of that, and I’ve never wondered if she got that from her mother until now. Is Kenna concrete like Scotty was, or does she like to use her imagination? Is she artistic? Does she have dreams outside of being reunited with her daughter?

More importantly, is she good?

Scotty was good. I always assumed Kenna wasn’t because of that one night. That one cause and effect. That one terrible choice she made.

But what if we were just looking for someone to blame because we were all hurting so much?

It never once occurred to me that Kenna might have been hurting as much as we were.

I have so many questions for her. Questions I shouldn’t want answers to, but I need to know more about that night and more about her intentions. I have a feeling she isn’t going to leave town without a fight, and as much as Patrick and Grace want to brush this under the rug, it’s not something that’s going to go away.

Maybe that’s why I’m here, sitting in my truck, watching her load groceries into cars. I’m not sure if she’s noticed I’ve been lurking in the parking lot for half an hour. She probably has. My truck doesn’t necessarily blend in with its surroundings.

There’s a knock on my window that makes me jump. My eyes meet Grace’s. She’s holding Diem on her hip, so I open my door.

“What are you doing here?”

Grace shoots me a confused look. I’m sure she was expecting my response to be more on the excited side than concerned. “We’re getting groceries. We saw your truck.”

“I want to go with you,” Diem says. She reaches for me, and I slide out of the truck as I take her from Grace’s arms. I immediately scan the parking lot to make sure Kenna isn’t outside.

“You need to leave,” I say to Grace. She parked in the row in front of me, so I walk toward her car.

“What’s wrong?” Grace asks.

I face her and make sure to choose my words carefully. “She works here.”

There’s confusion in Grace’s face before the realization hits. As soon as she grasps who I’m referring to, the color begins to drain from her cheeks. “What?”

“She’s on shift right now. You need to get Diem out of here.”

“But I want to go with you,” Diem says.

“I’ll come pick you up later,” I say, gripping the door handle. Grace’s car is locked. I wait for her to unlock it, but she’s frozen in place like she’s in a trance. “Grace!”

She quickly refocuses and then starts digging in her purse for her keys.

That’s when I see Kenna.

That’s when Kenna sees me.

“Hurry,” I say, my voice low.

Grace’s hands are shaking as she starts clicking her key fob.

Kenna has stopped walking. She’s just standing in the middle of the parking lot, staring at us. When she realizes what she’s seeing—that her daughter is just yards from her—she abandons her customer’s grocery cart and starts heading in our direction.

Grace gets the doors unlocked, so I swing the back door open and put Diem in her booster seat. I don’t know why I feel like I’m racing against time. It’s not like Kenna could take her with both of us right here. I just don’t want Grace to have to face her. Not in front of Diem.