She sat and gathered her babies into her arms, rocking them back and forth. She knew they both needed a minute to overcome the rush of relief they probably felt at seeing that she was okay. This was not the first time she and her mother had come to blows.
She felt broken inside. If she moved too fast or breathed too hard, she’d shatter. Not only because her mother hated her, but also because Dusty had witnessed Linda’s disdain for her. What if he thought the same thing, that she didn’t deserve respect? “Mama, are you hurt?” Brendon patted her cheek where her mother had hit her. She should have gone to the washroom first to check if Linda had left any marks.
She hugged her son closer. “I’m okay, baby. Your grandmother was upset. She didn’t mean anything.”
“If you point me in the direction of your suitcases, I’ll start packing things,” Dusty said in a low voice, as if afraid to upset the delicate balance in the room.
She blushed, amazed she could find something else to be embarrassed about. “We don’t have any. There’s a couple of cloth bags in the hall closet, and there are garbage bags.” She smiled wanly. “We never go anywhere.”
She could tell by the way the vein in his jaw jumped that he was clenching his teeth again. “Garbage bags it is.”
“Are we really moving to Dusty’s house?” The fear on Sarah’s face was replaced by curiosity. Brendon crawled up on her lap, his thumb in his mouth.
“Yes.” As if a window had opened, her spirits lightened a bit.
“What’s it like there?”
A mess. She sighed and ran her hand through her son’s sleep-mussed hair. “It’s bigger than this place. I’m not sure, but you may each get your own bedroom. Maybe not right away, because the house needs to be fixed.”
Sarah stood up on the bed. “I can help him fix it. I got my hammer and saw.”
“Perfect. Okay, we have to figure out what you need for tonight and tomorrow, and then we’ll go to Dusty’s.”
“I hope I like it there.” Sarah climbed down off the bed and headed for the shelves that held her toys.
“Me, too.” Brendon drooled, a beatific smile lighting up his face.
Teressa held her baby to her chest and kissed the top of his head. “Me, too,” she whispered.
An hour later, her hands shaking on the steering wheel of her old minivan, Teressa and the children followed Dusty’s truck. She was leaving home. Really leaving. She wasn’t sure what she felt. Excited? Maybe. Definitely scared. What if Dusty decided he didn’t really want them? Nice went only so far, and then there was reality. He had to be as scared as she was right now.
There had always been a push and pull between her and Linda, and yes, from now on she was Linda, not Mother. Linda was headstrong, wanted things done her way, and she... Dear God, was she really like her mother?
She’d complained nonstop the whole time Sylvie had been remodeling the café a few months ago, not that it had made any difference. At least she’d been big enough to admit to Sylvie that she’d been wrong, something Linda would never do. People loved coming to the café now. They’d liked it before, but now they loved it, because Sylvie had painted the constantly changing wall mural on the back wall that chronicled their lives, and installed Wi-Fi and comfy chairs surrounded by stacks of books and newspapers. Sylvie nourished their minds and Teressa nourished their bodies with good food. So maybe there was still a chance that she hadn’t grown as rigid in her opinions as her mother.
She’d had to toughen up quickly when she’d gotten pregnant with Sarah. Lots of women had children by the time they were twenty-two, but she hadn’t been prepared for suddenly being cut out of the small social scene in the village. Although having Sarah had helped compensate for almost everything she’d lost.
She glanced in the rearview mirror and noticed Brendon’s eyes were closed. Please let him stay asleep. Sarah looked wide-awake, her gaze glued to Teressa’s reflection in the mirror, as if afraid that if she took her eyes off her mother she might disappear.
“Hey, honey bun. Are you okay?”
“Grammy hit you,” she whispered, her eyes round with disbelief.
How to put a positive spin on that? She’d hoped Sarah and Brendon had somehow missed that bit. “Sometimes when people are angry they say or do things they don’t mean.”
“Why are we going to Dusty’s house?”
Great question. Her daughter was nothing short of brilliant. “Because Dusty’s a good friend, and he wants us to live with him for a while.” All true. She’d wanted to delay the news of having another baby sister or brother until her first trimester was over.
“Is he going to be our daddy now?”
Teressa groaned. How did life get so complicated? “Corey’s your father, Sarah.”
Sarah pushed against the back of the seat in front of her. “I like Dusty better.”
So did Teressa. She hadn’t heard from Corey for two years since he’d gone out west to work. His parents were dead, and he only had one brother, who moved around a lot, as well. She had no idea how to locate either one. Corey wasn’t a bad person, but neither had he been interested in being a dad. A few months after Sarah was born, he left and had come back only a couple of times to say hello. As for any financial support, it was hard to tap someone’s pocketbook when you didn’t know where to find them. Corey had been a fun guy, and he loved the good times and the parties.
Much like Dusty.
She blinked back tears. She was setting herself up for another fall, wasn’t she? Only this time she had two—make that three—kids to drag down with her. She should turn the car around and go...anywhere but Dusty’s. She clicked on the turn signal and pulled into his driveway. Maybe tomorrow she’d find somewhere else to live. Except she knew as well as Dusty that the only homes available to rent were drafty summer houses that were impossible to heat. She was backed into a corner with no way out. God, she hated her life.
* * *
DUSTY CLIMBED OUT of his truck and welcomed the cold as he waited for Teressa. He’d never in his life wanted to hit a woman before, but he was ashamed to admit he’d come close tonight. What kind of mother talked to her daughter that way? It burned a hole in his gut wondering how long Teressa had been putting up with that crap.
Collina was a small village, and if Teressa had ever been promiscuous, he’d never heard about it. And he’d always paid attention when the gossip involved her. He had no patience for the women-are-sluts, guys-are-studs bullshit. People were people, and normal people needed sex.
He leaned against the truck fender and crossed his ankles. Okay, so he hadn’t liked it when she went out with Corey, but he’d been dating... He frowned and tried to recall who he’d been dating at the time. Patricia? Sherry? Point was, he wasn’t a saint. But when she got pregnant... Yeah. Whole different ballgame. As far as he knew, Teressa had only had two boyfriends, and Stan, Brendon’s father, had been more a bad idea than a boyfriend.
The point was Mrs. Wilder had no business talking to her daughter that way. Teressa was a good mom and a good woman. Earlier tonight, when her mother had bad-mouthed her, Dusty had watched something die in Teressa’s eyes. She seemed to shrink right in front of him. That was so wrong. She worked hard to keep her little family together and to make a success of the café. He knew she’d always wanted to be a chef somewhere fancy, but he rarely heard her complain about being head cook at his family’s café.
He’d been so proud of her a couple of months ago, about the same time