Lacey stood back up. The baby cried against her shoulder, reminding her that it was time to eat. “I can’t have you living here like this, Corry.”
She couldn’t let Corry destroy everything she’d built. Lacey had a life here, and friends. She belonged. For the first time in her life, she’d found a place where she belonged.
“I plan on leaving. I’m not going to stay and live like a hermit.” Corry’s words reminded Lacey of the phone call.
And the crying baby. “You can’t take Rachel back to St. Louis. That isn’t good for her. How are you going to take care of her if you can’t take care of yourself?”
“I’ll manage. Don’t worry about me. Remember, I’m a woman and we know how to take care of babies. It’s easy, right?”
“It isn’t easy, Corry. I know that. But this baby deserves a chance. And it’s her that I’m worried about, not you.”
She walked away because she couldn’t argue. And the baby needed to be fed. She could concentrate on Rachel and let the rest go.
She was heating the bottle when Corry walked into the room. Rachel squirmed against Lacey, tiny hands brushing Lacey’s face. Corry looked through blurry eyes, but maybe she was also sorry. Lacey wanted her to be sorry.
“Corry, this can’t be the life you want for yourself.”
“What’s wrong with my life?”
“It doesn’t include faith. It doesn’t include you wanting a better life for yourself and your child.”
“I’m here.”
“Yes, you are here.” Lacey tested the formula on her wrist and cradled Rachel to feed her. Corry only watched.
“Do you like that cowboy?” Corry leaned against the counter. She shoved her trembling hands into her pockets and hunkered down, defeated.
Lacey ignored the obvious signs of someone going through withdrawal. She knew that was the reason for the cold medicine. Her sister would have done anything for a high at this point.
“He isn’t even a friend, just someone I know from town and from church.”
For a minute it felt like a normal conversation between sisters. To keep up the illusion, Lacey kept her gaze averted.
“I think I could have more luck with him. You’re too pushy.” The normal moment between sisters ended with that comment.
Lacey lifted Rachel to her shoulder and patted the baby’s back. “Stop it, Corry.”
“Are you jealous?”
“There’s nothing to be jealous of. I don’t want him used. End of story.”
“When did you get all righteous? Does he know what you used to be?”
Lacey turned to face her sister. She could feel heat crawling up her neck to her cheeks. “My past is behind me. And it wasn’t who I…” She blinked a few times, wishing there weren’t tears in her eyes. “It wasn’t who I wanted to be.”
She didn’t belong. Not the way she really wanted to belong to Gibson. After all of these years, she wasn’t really one of them. She wanted to be like these people, growing up here, having lifelong friends, family that never moved away, and a place that was all hers.
“Not so easy to be a goody-goody now, is it? Not with me here to remind you of what you used to be. What you still are.”
Take a deep breath, she told herself. She wasn’t that girl from St. Louis, not here in Gibson. Her past was forgiven. She had to remember who she was now, and who she was in Christ. For God so loved the world that He gave His only begotten son.
She was the “whosoever” who had chosen to believe in Jesus. She would not perish, but have everlasting life. They sang a song in church, “My Sins Are Gone.” It was her song. Anyone could ask her why she was happy, how she could smile and go on, building a new life. The answer was simple: because her sins were gone, as far as east from west. Her sister could remind her, but she couldn’t bring back what had been forgiven. Not really.
“I’m a Christian, Corry. I have faith. I have a new life, and that old life is no longer a part of me.”
“Really? You might want to think it’s gone, but it’s still there.”
“I am who I am because of my past, Corry. But God gave me a new life.”
“And what makes you so special?”
“I’m not special. I made a choice that anyone can make.”
“A past isn’t that easy to get rid of.” Corry shook her head and walked off, tossing the words over her shoulder. “You’re the one living in a fantasy world. By the way, someone’s here.”
* * *
Jay knocked on the door because he had promised Cody and Bailey he would. They’d been trying to call Lacey, but she wasn’t answering her cell phone. They were worried. He could have told them that Lacey Gould could take care of herself, but they wouldn’t have listened.
They were a lot like his mom, determined to make sure Lacey was kept safe. As if she needed protection.
From the sounds coming from inside the house, he guessed that right now she wanted rid of her sister. He knocked again.
She opened the door, hair a little shaggier than normal and liner under her eyes a little smudged. She didn’t smile.
“Bailey wanted me to stop and check on you.”
“Why?”
“She’s been trying to call and she can’t get hold of you.”
Lacey reached into her pocket and pulled out her cell phone. She frowned at it and then slipped it back into her pocket. “No signal.”
“Okay, I’ll let them know.” He glanced past her. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” Her eyes narrowed, and she shook her head a little, as if she really didn’t understand his question.
“Lacey, is everything okay?”
“Fine.” She glanced over her shoulder, at the mess, at the broken dogs, at the clothes scattered on the floor. “I’m sorry, I’ll get it cleaned up.”
“I’m not talking about the house. I know you’ll get it cleaned up. I’m asking if you’re okay.”
The baby was crying, and the radio played from the kitchen. Lacey Gould’s eyes watered and her nose turned pink.
“Let me help you clean up.” He walked past her, into the ransacked house. “Is she looking for a fix?”
“She is.” Lacey walked away from him. “Let me get the baby.”
“I’ll get a broom.”
“You don’t have to. You have somewhere you need to be and I’m here for the night. It won’t take me long to clean up.” She walked back into the room with the baby cuddled against her. Exhaustion etched lines across her face and her shoulders heaved with a sigh.
Jay offered her a smile that he knew wouldn’t ease her worry or take away the burden. Instead he bent and started picking up the dog figurines that were still intact. The dogs meant something to her. He thought it was more about a life she had never had than a pet she wanted.
“We could get her help.” He offered the suggestion as he put the last dog in place. “We could try for a seventy-two hour hold and maybe get her into a treatment program.”
“She has to want help.”
“I guess you’re right.” He stood up straight. He hadn’t realized before that she was a good half-foot shorter than