He was sorry to see any of her happiness dimmed. Happy had never been Corinne’s default state and he wished boatloads of it for her.
“Did what?” Mama Pearl prompted.
“Oh, hey Tucker. Sorry to interrupt.”
“Not interrupting at all. Good news should always be shared. What’s up?” He thanked God for all his hours in a courtroom and on the stage. It kept his voice from reverting to the awkward tremble he hadn’t been able to shake around her back in high school.
“I’m done. I officially passed all my nursing classes and finished my clinical hours. I am graduated!” Tucker hadn’t seen her smile like that since he handed over her bouquet of roses for the homecoming parade. The sight of it sucker punched him right in the gut.
“That’s awesome,” he said, and meant it.
He’d watched her clawing her way back to something since she’d come back to Wishful. She’d fought tooth and nail against less than friendly odds. It was good to see her finding some success.
Mama Pearl rose to hug her. “That’s wonderful, child. And there’s pie to celebrate.”
There was no such thing as a celebration in Wishful that didn’t include Mama Pearl’s pie.
Corinne squeezed her back, gratitude written clear on her face. “Thank you. But pie can wait. I’ve got tables.”
With a quick wave at Tucker, she was gone again.
He stared at the empty doorway as the last flash of her long, dark hair disappeared.
“Mmmhmm,” Mama Pearl said again.
Tucker pokered up, but not before she shot him a Look that made it clear she’d noticed him noticing Corinne. “So how about it? Will the diner be a part of the competition?”
After a long, assessing study that had him wanting to squirm in his chair, at last Mama Pearl nodded. “I’ll do it.”
~*~
Exhaustion dogged Corinne’s steps as she slipped quietly into her mother’s house after ten that night. Automatically, she avoided the third and eighth steps as she went up for bed, knowing the old wood would creak beneath her weight. That skill had been mastered well before she’d finished high school, back when she’d ruled the school, before the Universe had proved she’d been a big fish in a microscopic pond. One easily chewed up and spat back out.
Quiet as she could, she opened Kurt’s door and looked in on him. In the glow of the firetruck night light, she could see the crescent of his dark lashes closed in sleep. His limbs stuck out at all angles in a forest of stuffed animals, with the stuffed Chewbacca doll tucked tight in one arm. For long minutes, she stood in the doorway watching him, her heart aching. She hadn’t seen him at all today—gone before he woke, back after he’d gone to bed. There’d been far too many of those days in the past several months.
It’s not forever, baby boy. I swear it.
A door opened down the hall. Corinne held in a wince. No luck sneaking in tonight. Shutting Kurt’s door, she turned toward her mother. Marianne Dawson stood in a silky, floral robe, arms folded, annoyance etched on her face. It was her default expression these days.
“Hey Mama.”
“You’re home late.”
Corinne didn’t bring up the fact that she’d already reminded her mom that she’d be working a full shift at the diner after winding up at the hospital. “I know. I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”
“I was watching The Tonight Show. Julia Roberts was on talking about that new movie of hers.”
Corinne made a noncommittal noise. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually been to a movie. That kind of frivolity called for money and time she didn’t have. Though she had been planning to take Kurt to the next big animated flick now that he’d settled down enough to sit all the way through one.
“How was Kurt today?”
Her mother grunted and moved past her, toward the stairs. “Come sit with me while I have some tea, and I’ll tell you.”
All Corinne wanted was a horizontal surface for longer than a span of six hours, but she dutifully followed to the kitchen. She was more starved for news of her son than she was for sleep.
Because it gave her something to do with her hands, and therefore kept her vertical and conscious, Corinne took the kettle from her mom’s hand. “Why don’t you let me do that?”
As she filled it, set it on the burner, Marianne sat at the kitchen table. “We did our school shopping today.”