Loving Valentine: A Novella

It was about a twenty-minute drive in Mrs. Fairchild’s gold Lexus SUV from South Green to her house in South Glastonbury. The Lexus had white leather seats. I’d never been inside a vehicle so fancy in my life. It still had that new car smell.

A twenty-minute drive and it was like driving into a different world entirely. It was greener around here for a start. The houses were nicer, with more land around each of them; the buildings and gardens well maintained.

I couldn't believe my mom grew up in this neighborhood.

We’d passed a lot of houses that were average-sized. But the street we’d pulled up to stood out from the rest. It was a quiet court, surrounded on three sides with large New England Style houses and lots of trees. The drive we’d drove onto belonged to the biggest house of them all. While the other homes were clad in painted wood siding, this house was a red brick with varying triangular rooflines, a circular drive, and a three-court garage.

“Holy shit,” I muttered under my breath, looking up at it.

Mrs. Fairchild’s lips twitched. “Micah.”

“Sorry. I just…”

“I know it feels worlds away from what you’re used to. But I promise, we’re just like any other family.”

I raised an eyebrow.

Mrs. Fairchild chuckled. “Okay, as a family we’re like any other family. As people… we’re financially blessed compared to many others. But we don’t take it for granted.”

“You don’t have to apologize or explain it to me. You work hard for what you have.” Even if they only had it in the first place because they had a step up in life to begin with. But I didn’t say that out loud. My mom was proof that a step up in life at the beginning didn’t mean a damn thing if you didn’t take a hold of the opportunities offered to you.

“We do. Come on in. Jim was ordering take out when I left and he always orders way too much so there will be plenty of food.”

My stomach grumbled at the thought.

Striding through the double door entrance after her, I drew to a stop, taking in the spacious hallway, the wide staircase that led upstairs, and the warmly furnished rooms on either side of me.

“We’re home!” Mrs. Fairchild called as I followed her through a family room, a library room, and a dining room to get to the kitchen. The kitchen stretched along the entire back of the house and there were sliding doors that led out into a backyard with a pool. They covered the pool for winter.

“We’re?” A tall man stood at an island opening take out cartons. His eyes widened at the sight of me and then drifted to my duffle bag.

I braced myself, feeling like an intruder.

“Jim, this is Micah, Molly’s son. Micah, my husband Jim.”

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Fairchild,” I said.

Jim chuckled as he rounded the island. His dark eyes glittered warmly as he reached for my hand. “Please, Mr. Fairchild’s my father. Call me Jim.”

I nodded, but I wasn’t sure I’d be able to do that. It would be like calling Mrs. Fairchild Caroline. Too weird.

“We’ll be back in a minute.” Mrs. Fairchild took her husband’s hand and led him out of the room. Presumably to fill him in on my situation.

My pride stung.

It was fucking humiliating taking her charity, but I didn’t know what else I could do about it. I didn’t want my future to fall to shit because my mom took off, and I didn’t want her life for myself. With a 3.9 GPA and as captain of the swim team, I was on course to receive a scholarship, preferably to Boston University. All of this with a part-time job. I couldn’t screw it up.

If that meant accepting Mrs. Fairchild’s help, then I guess that’s what it meant.

“And who are you?”

The girl’s voice had me whipping around.

I’d remember the sight of her always because it was like someone had punched me in the gut. All the air went out of the room.

The girl was bout my age, I’d guess. She had long, thick dark hair that spilled around her shoulders in shiny waves. The prettiest dark brown eyes I’d ever seen filled with humor and curiosity. Her lush lips quirked upward at the corners. Suddenly she grinned and killed me with her dimples. Dressed like one of those hippy girl images from the seventies, she wore a thin gold circlet around on the top of her head like a crown. Her dress was long, fitted at her tiny waist, then flowed to her feet. It was a light pink color and had oversized sleeves that fit at her wrists.

I’d never seen anything like her before.

It wasn’t just her sense of style… it was the way happiness and warmth seemed to radiate from her.