No Matter What

Cait leaped out almost before the car came to a stop. She was hurrying away when Molly called after her. “If you want a lift home, you know where to find me.”

Cait flapped one hand that said, Like I don’t know, Mom? And do you really have to embarrass me by yelling after me in the parking lot?

Molly collected her briefcase from the backseat, locked the car and walked in a different direction, toward the admin building. The only thing she knew for sure was that she wanted to talk to Richard.

And was afraid of what he’d say. Especially after he’d understood why she had personal issues with the abortion option.

She was opening the door when she spotted a group of senior boys getting out of a Camry with macho tires bigger than the manufacturer had recommended. Trevor.

He didn’t see her. She didn’t see Cait lying in wait. But Molly watched him laughing at something one of the other boys had said. They wrestled with each other in that rough-and-tumble way boys did.

Molly wondered when he’d laugh again.

* * *

“YOU DON’T MIND ME having invited Richard and Trevor for Thanksgiving?” Molly stabbed a fork into the potatoes to see if they were done.

“No.” Cait was dumping cranberry sauce into a small, cut crystal dish. “It’s cool you did. I mean, what would they have done?”

“Richard said probably go out. I gather he’s never done the whole turkey and stuffing thing.”

“It’s okay having them here. Mom, I can mash if you want to check the turkey.”

The doorbell rang, and Cait went to let the Wards in while Molly opened the oven and tugged at the drumstick. It almost came loose in her hand. The thermometer had popped, too. Definitely done. She grabbed two hot pads and lifted the roasting pan from the oven to the cutting board she’d laid on the counter.

“Smells great,” Richard said, smiling at her from the doorway. He looked good in dark slacks and a charcoal-gray V-neck sweater with the sleeves pushed up on strong forearms. Dark hair curled in the V of the sweater. No midday shadow on his jaw; he’d shaved and his hair, brushed back from his face, was still damp.

Molly controlled with difficulty an internal meltdown, returning his smile. “Welcome.”

From behind his father, Trevor eyed the turkey like a wolf might its freshly killed prey. Molly had a feeling she wouldn’t have as many leftovers as she’d envisioned.

“Anything I can do?” Richard asked.

“Um…maybe carve, once I get the stuffing out. Cait, why don’t you turn on the broccoli. I think we’ll be ready by the time it’s done.”

They all ended up helping—Trevor mashed while Cait heated rolls, Molly carried the yams to the table and lit candles. For once, they were eating at the mahogany dining room table she and Cait seldom used. Cait had set it with their good china, too, a wedding gift Molly had kept and still loved.

Once they sat down, Richard said a quiet grace, and they began to dish up.

“I’m sorry Brianna decided not to come,” Molly commented, adding green salad to her plate then passing the bowl on to Trevor, who sat to her right.

Richard looked up from the dressing he was ladling onto his plate. “I am, too. She says she’ll come for Christmas, though. Apparently Alexa has made plans.” His gaze flicked to his son. “With friends.”

Something dark crossed Trevor’s face. Molly saw muscles in Richard’s jaw spasm. When he didn’t say anything, she did. “I suppose it seems strange, the idea of not spending Christmas with your mother.”

“I don’t want to spend Christmas with her.” His voice was guttural. Too late, he tried to hide a tremor in the hand that held his fork.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

He looked at her. “You don’t know.”

“No. I don’t.”

“I suppose you had the perfect, happy family.” His voice was ugly with sarcasm.

“No, she didn’t, and you don’t have to be so awful!” Caitlyn exclaimed.

Molly blinked.

Trevor’s head swung toward Cait. “I wasn’t…”

“You were! Mom grew up in foster homes, okay? She didn’t have a mom to be mad at.”

Molly’s heart swelled. She couldn’t have spoken to save her life.

A tide of red rose from Trevor’s neck to his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Ms. Callahan.”

Oh, help. I have to say something. After a deep breath, she managed, “It’s okay, Trevor. There have been times in my life when I was jealous of people who had regular families.” She made sure her gaze held his. “There’ve also been times when I’ve realized ‘regular’ from the outside isn’t necessarily better than what I had.”