“Have a good day!” Taylor managed to get out before the door slammed. “I love you.” She said to her son’s back, even though she knew he couldn’t hear her.
Ice-cold fear ran through Taylor’s veins as she watched Owen seamlessly integrate into the stream of preteens all ascending the steps of Hope Falls Middle School as she pulled away from the curb. She’d mentally prepared herself to be scared today because of her son’s health, but now, after finding out Caleb hadshown up on her doorstep last night, she’d just unlocked a whole new level of anxiety.
Each time Owen was out of her sight, she went into a hyper state of vigilance, waiting for the call that he’d had a seizure or an asthma attack or passed out due to low blood sugar. It wasn’t something she did on purpose or that she had any control over. It just happened. But now on top of that, there was an extra layer of dread.
Did Caleb know something?
Did he remember her?
Did he have a suspicion that Owen was his?
If he did, was last night some sort of test?
Was it calculated?
Had he waited for Taylor to get in the shower before knocking on the door?
Did someone from the children’s church who thought the photo of the groundbreaking ceremony was Owen tell Caleb, so he came to the house to investigate?
Would it be so bad if that were the case?
Taylor had played out hundreds of different scenarios in her head of how she could tell both Caleb and Owen the truth. The problem was, none of them felt right.
Going to church yesterday had been a risk. But she felt she had no choice since Owen was starting school today. Her time of being under the radar had run out. Now they were officially part of the town’s ecosystem, or at least the school system. She’d gone to the church service to check off her final vetting box.
She’d come to Hope Falls for a reason. She could have gone anywhere, started over anywhere, but she’d come here so that Owen might be able to meet his father. If she were being honest with herself, she was hoping for more than just a meeting. In a perfect world, which she was painfully aware that this world wasfar from perfect and anything but fair, nevertheless, she would love it if Owen could have a relationship with his father.
An alert popped up on Taylor’s phone indicating Owen’s blood sugar had spiked. She got all the notifications from his glucose monitor and pump, which was amazing. It gave her a sliver of peace of mind when she was away from him. When she didn’t immediately see the reading logged that he’d been given a dose of insulin, her instinct was to flip a U-turn and drive back to the school.
She pulled up to a four-way stop and had to make a choice: flip a U-turn and go back to the school or make a right and go to the coffee shop like she’d planned. Despite every maternal cell in her body screaming “U-turn,” she made a right and pulled into a space near Brewed Awakenings Coffee Shop. Once she turned off the engine, she took a moment to gather herself and shake off the ever-present worry over Owen that clung to her like a shadow. As she sat in her car attempting the impossible, another alert sounded; this one indicated a dose of insulin had been administered. She let out a breath she’d been unconsciously holding.
With a brief reprieve that he was okay, she did a quick check in the visor mirror to make sure she was presentable. What she saw reflected back were dark circles beneath her eyes. She’d overslept this morning, which had been happening more and more frequently. She found herself being tired throughout the day and having to fight to stay awake. She’d even fallen asleep standing up in the shower the night before. Her body felt achy and fatigued. She’d mentioned it to the therapist, who told her that it could be a delayed response to PTSD or her body’s reaction to living in a hypervigilant state with Owen’s health issues.
Whatever the reason was, it made her look like she was an extra inThe WalkingDead.She’d skipped any concealer thismorning because she was in a rush and only slapped on mascara and lip gloss; she was regretting that decision now.
Was it worth going home, putting concealer on, and then coming back?
Probably. She should look her best when applying for a job.
Sadly, the mere thought of the energy that would take instantly ruled it out.
This was as good as she was going to get today. She grabbed her purse from the console and headed inside the shop. A cheerful bell dinged above her head, announcing her arrival. She closed her eyes for the briefest of moments and inhaled the bold aroma of freshly brewed coffee. The scent of roasted beans wrapped around her like a comforting hug. It was a mix of earthy and sweet, creating a sense of coziness and warmth.
These days, caffeine was as essential as water, sleep, and food to keep her functioning. Taylor would mainline it if she could. Working at the coffee shop would be a bonus considering the access to her current stimulant addiction. She’d heard the saying, don’t get high on your supply, but she doubted that was applicable to baristas.
Her caffeine fix wasn’t the only draw, she thought as she opened her eyes. The rustic-industrial decor, with its mix of reclaimed wood and metal fixtures, had a modern yet homey vibe that made her feel instantly welcome. Every inch was curated and intentional, from the concrete floors to the black ceiling, exposed ventilation ducts, and beams. Oversized photos of late Old Hollywood era stars, including Marilyn Monroe and James Dean, were hung on walls of exposed brick. Two jewel-colored tufted couches lined the left wall, and on the right sat a large wooden farm-style table. The front of the shop was filled with French bistro-style chairs, giving the entire space an eclectic, bohemian, vintage feel that was wholly unique.
She’d only visited the coffee shop once before. Owen came down with a highly contagious bacterial infection that spread from his lungs to his heart and ended up having to be hospitalized for two days. The doctors suggested that everything in the house be disinfected, including the fabric, and treated the same way you would for fleas or lice. So Taylor took all the bedding, clothes, throw pillows, curtains, and rugs to the laundromat and wore a raincoat. She came into Brewed Awakenings to get change because the machine at the laundromat was broken. The moment she stepped inside, she instantly fell in love with the decor and the staff. A man who introduced himself as Manny helped her. The register didn’t have the quarters she needed to make change, but he said that he did. After taking care of the customers, he went in the back and got two rolls of quarters for her. She tried to give him cash for them, but he refused to take any money.
When she asked him why, he said that his nieces and nephews all had piggy banks, and he would hide quarters around for them to find and also pay them in quarters for chores, good grades, and good behavior. She told him that was amazing, but she meant, why wouldn’t he let her give him the cash for it?
He chuckled and explained he was a retired sumo wrestler—which tracked because he was built like an ox—and he regularly went to physical therapy at Pine Ridge General Hospital, and he’d seen her with Owen in radiology quite a few times. Owen had to get x-rays of his lungs quite often. He was born and raised in Hawaii by a single mom who instilled the value of kokua, which was helping others with acts of kindness with no expectation of personal gain.
Taylor thanked him as tears began to roll down her face, and she threw her arms around him in a bear hug he neither asked for nor consented to. Thankfully, he didn’t seem upset at her embrace, and he’d let her use the back employee entranceto leave so none of the customers were forced to witness her blubbering breakdown. Two rolls of quarters might not be a lot to someone else, but to Taylor, it was the whole world. She’d washed all her clothes, bedding, and other items and been able to fill up her gas tank to drive back and forth to the hospital, which is forty-five minutes away.
She’d secretly hoped Manny would be working today, but she didn’t see him anywhere, and he was hard to miss. There were about a dozen customers scattered around. A young couple, both scrolling on their phones, were seated at a bistro table against the window. A trio of tech guys were all huddled in the far back corner, typing on their laptops. Six women, four whom she recognized from church the day before, were seated around the farm table and looked like they were celebrating something. They had a bottle of champagne and were taking pictures with cutlery as if the forks, knives, and spoons were trophies of some kind. Taylor found it strange, but she couldn’t even say it was the strangest thing she’d seen in this town.
The first week she arrived, she and Owen watched a Great Dane and a Chihuahua walk smack dab down the middle of Main Street, step onto the sidewalk, go straight up to the takeout window of Two Scoops Ice Cream Parlor, and get served two pup cones like they were regular customers, which, come to find out, they were.
