Southern Comforts

“You’re thirty-three,” his mother began. It was a familiar refrain and not one he wanted to listen to again.

A door banged, rescuing him.

“The contractor is here.” Finally. “I’ll call when I can.”

No time to argue grandkids with his mother. He had a building to finish.

* * *

CHERYL CLOSED THE back door of her car with her hip. “Here’s your backpack,” she said, handing Joshua the Spider-Man bag filled with his few toys.

They walked through a garden leading from the B and B’s small parking lot. God, her car looked out of place among the guests’ late-model SUVs and luxury sedans.

Her car was more rust than metal. The gray hood didn’t match the green paint on the rest of the body. And it sucked gas and oil like a drunk with a bottle of hooch. But it ran.

They passed a small table in a secluded section of the courtyard. The table was all but hidden from the house and the rest of the grounds. This would work.

She swallowed. “Okay. Wait here for me.” She pulled out Josh’s crayons and a pad of paper. “Draw a picture. I won’t be long.”

Josh looked up at her, his big brown eyes so like Brad’s her heart ached. “Can’t I come with you?”

“I wish you could, but I have to talk to a woman about working here.” She had to get this job. To keep Josh safe, she had to earn a living. She couldn’t go back.

“The rainbow house?”

“Yes, the rainbow house.” She knelt and cupped his cheeks. “Don’t talk to anyone. If you get scared, run to the car and lock yourself in.”

“Like you taught me when Uncle Levi smelled funny and got mean.” He looked solemn and older than a five-year-old ever should. “I run fast, jump in the car and slam down the lock.”

“Yup.” She was a terrible mother, leaving her son alone in a strange place like this. She brushed a kiss on the top of his head. “I’ll be right back.”

She hurried around the corner of the house and up the stairs.

The entry was empty. She pushed the buzzer on the desk.

The house was big. She hadn’t really noticed the day before. When they’d walked up the steps, Joshua had spotted the rainbows and taken off before she could get much sense of their surroundings.

“Can I help you?” An older woman came down the hall.

“I’m here to see...” Her mind went blank.

“Are you Cheryl? No last name?” the woman filled in.

“Yes.”

“Then you’re here to see me. I’m Marion. Last name Winters.”

“Cheryl Henshaw.” After running from Atlanta, she’d decided to use her mother’s maiden name. Levi shouldn’t be able to find them, since he’d never heard the name before.

Marion pointed to a small parlor. “We can talk in here.”

“This house is beautiful.” The words rushed out.

“That it is. And it takes dedication and elbow grease to keep it that way.”

The rich smell of coffee mingled with the scent of lemon wood polish. Cheryl stared at a tray with two coffee mugs and a plate of banana bread. The aromas intensified her light-headedness, and she sank onto the sofa.

“Take a sip.” Marion pointed. “You won’t find coffee this good at any of those chain places.”

“Thank you.”

Marion picked up a second mug. “Are you from around here?”

“Atlanta most recently. Before that, Fort McPherson, though I grew up in Richmond.” Cheryl took a sip. “Oh, this is good.”

“How many years have you been cleaning?” Marion asked her.

Cheryl took another sip and then set her mug down. “I’ve cleaned all my life, but I’ve never...been paid to clean.”

“Oh.” Marion frowned.

“I know how to work hard. I won’t let you down.” Please, please, please.

Marion watched her, not saying a word.

Cheryl figured the interview was over. Sighing, she grabbed her wallet. Her Coach purse, a gift from Brad, had been hocked along with her wedding ring. She knew Brad would have understood; she needed to keep Josh safe.

She stood.

Where are you going?” Marion asked.

“I...assumed...” She pointed out of the room.

“Sit on down. Have a piece of that banana bread.”

Cheryl sank into her chair. She couldn’t swallow much more than the coffee.

“Here’s what we’re going to do.” Marion tapped her finger on her nose. “We’ll try you out for a couple of days.”

“You will?” Had she really heard Marion right?

“Sure. Miss Abby says you’ve got a little boy.”

“I do.” She wanted to tell this woman with the warm brown eyes that her son was waiting in the garden for her. If she did, would Marion rescind the offer? “He’s an angel.”

“I’m sure he is. Can you start today? That damn fool, Kikki, took off for California with her boyfriend. Going to be movie stars or some such nonsense. Put me in a bind leaving without notice.”

Today? “I... I’d love to. But my son. He’s here, outside, waiting for me in the courtyard.” Her words ran together.