Part 30 (1/2)

”Yeah,” he mumbled with a mouth full of cereal.

”And there's nothing I wouldn't do for you?”

He nodded, making her head bounce.

Letting go, she moved around him and took a seat at the table. ”So here's the way it is. I'm not going to be working for Samantha anymore. I do have a job lined up at the care facility in Hankton, but it's for a lot less money.” Tracing a finger across the table, she couldn't look at him while she delivered the blow. ”I'm afraid St. Michael's is going to be out of the question. We can't afford it.”

She stole a look and was surprised at his reaction. He was reading the back of the cereal box. ”Aren't you upset?”

He shrugged carelessly. ”Nah.”

”But I thought you wanted to go to St. Michael's? They have one of the best prelaw-”

”I'm not going into prelaw, Mom,” he said, laying the cereal box to the side. ”I wanted to go to St. Michael's because of their music department.” Catching the look on her face, he held up his hand. ”You're right about needing a college education, but why can't it be in something I love? I love music, Mom.”

Anne shot to her feet, knocking her chair over. ”If you think I'm going to waste all the money I've saved over the years so you can chase after some crazy-”

”It's not crazy. People with a degree in music earn a living.”

”At what? Teaching?”

”What's wrong with that?”

”Nothing, but I wanted more for you.”

Red-faced, Caleb rose. ”What about what I want for myself?” He began to pace the kitchen. ”I don't want to be crammed in some stuffy office, writing wills, handling divorce cases. I want music in my life.”

”It can be a hobby,” she insisted.

He whirled on her. ”You don't get it, do you? I'm not a kid anymore and you can't tell me how to live my life.”

Anne glared at him. ”Oh yes I can, Caleb Weaver. As long as you're under my roof, I,” she said, stabbing a finger at her chest, ”make the rules.”

”I won't be under your roof if I'm away at college,” he argued back.

”But I'll be paying for the roof you are under.”

”If it means getting to make my own choices then I'll pay for college myself,” he spit at her.

She crossed her arms and tried to stare him down. ”How?”

”Scholars.h.i.+ps, part-time jobs, loans. It may take me longer to finish, but I can do it.” He spun on his heel and stomped toward the door. Reaching it, he stopped. ”In fact, Mom, why don't I start supporting myself right now. I'm eighteen. I'll move out. You won't have to worry about paying for a d.a.m.n thing!” He yanked the door open, then slammed it behind him, leaving Anne standing alone in the kitchen.

She righted the chair and sat down hard. Dazed, she couldn't believe Caleb's reaction. He'd never talked to her like that. Oh, sure, he argued, but she'd never seen him so vehement about a subject. He'd grouse and grumble, but in the end, he did what she thought best. Thought best? Anne groaned. Those were the exact words she'd heard Lawrence Moore say to Sam. No, she didn't treat Caleb the same way Sam's family treated her. She respected his opinion.

As long as his opinion agrees with yours, said a little voice inside her head.

Suddenly weary, Anne laid her head on the table and began to cry. She hadn't meant to bully her son. She'd only wanted to see him have a better life than hers had been. Deep sobs shook her shoulders while guilt racked her heart. How could she have been so stupid, so blind? Hadn't both Greg and Fritz tried to talk to her? Caleb was a good kid, a smart kid. She should've trusted him to know what would make him happy. Now he was going to move out, go off on his own. He'd never be able to earn enough to meet his expenses while going to school. He might talk himself into dropping out. After working all these years to make sure he had a shot at a good life, she'd lost him.

Raising her head, she picked up a napkin and blew her nose. Sitting here blubbering and having a pity party wouldn't solve anything. When Caleb calmed down, they'd talk. And for once, she'd listen. She blew out a shaky breath and rose to her feet. She needed to keep busy until she could talk to him again, but she was at a loss about what to do with herself. Her eyes roamed the kitchen, searching for something to do.

Guess I'm unemployed. The thought felt strange to her. She'd gone to work every day she possibly could, seldom, if ever, taking any time off. She'd dreamed of having a day all to herself, and now that she had one, she didn't know what to do with it. Shoving her hands in her pockets, she jumped when the phone suddenly rang.

Caleb, calling to apologize. She ran to pick it up. She wouldn't let him-she'd tell him how sorry she was before he had a chance.

”Caleb,” she cried with the phone to her ear. ”I'm sor-”

”It's not Caleb, Anne. It's Fritz.” His voice sounded tight, strained. ”Have you heard anything about Edward? I know you're friends and I was hoping you had news.”

”News? What news?” Anne's grip on the phone tightened. ”Has something happened to Edward?”

”You don't know?”

”No,” she exclaimed.

”Edward had an accident last night. His car . . . he wrapped it around a tree.”

”Oh no.” Anne gasped.

”They took him to the hospital in Pardo, then by air ambulance to the Cities, but that's all I know.”

Anne remembered Dr. Douglas mentioning an emergency delaying Sam's CAT scan. Had Edward been the subject of that emergency?

”I've tried calling Dunlap's but the line is busy.”

”I'll run down there right now and see if I can find out.”

”Will you keep me in the loop?”

”Yes.” Anne slammed the receiver down and, grabbing her bag, rushed out the door.

When she whipped into the parking lot at Dunlap's, she saw all the cars. Surely someone inside could tell her about Edward's condition. Jumping out of her car, she ran up the steps and opened the door. She skidded to a halt. Instead of being at the hospital with her son, Esther was sitting on her stool behind the counter as if she were holding court. A couple of local women, friends of Esther's, stood next to her making comforting sounds while Esther whimpered into a handkerchief.

All eyes turned to Anne, standing in the doorway. An uncomfortable silence settled on the room. Ignoring it, Anne crossed to the counter.

”Esther,” she began, ”I'm so sorry to hear about Edward. How is he?”

”He'll live,” Esther barked in a tear-roughened voice. ”No thanks to that woman you're working for.”

Stunned, Anne took a step back. ”What does Samantha Moore have to do with Edward's car accident?”

”It's her fault,” Esther sniffed as she wiped her face. ”Living in that cabin, asking him questions about her, bringing back memories best left buried.”

”Now, Esther,” said one of her friends as she rubbed the woman's shoulders, ”don't get yourself all riled up again.”

Anne lifted her hands in a silent question as she looked at Esther's friends.