Love and Sorrow (Small Town Secrets Book 5), стр. 34

Fuck.  I knew that much was true.  “And freedom.  I like my freedom.”

“Freedom?  You work and go to school constantly, and you’ve got the kids to care for.  Do you really ever have a moment to yourself?  I guarantee if you moved in with us, you’d have more freedom.”  As he moved another steak from the grill to the platter, he shifted his eyes to me.  “Unless, of course, you’re talking about the men in your life.”

“Dad!  Men?  Good grief, what do you think of me?  I don’t sleep around.”

“Okay.  Man.  Let’s say this man was still in your life if you moved here.  How would living with us be then?”

“Well, he’s not…still in my life.”

Dad paused, setting the tongs down on the side of the grill.  “What do you mean?  The man you had a date with last night?  He’s no longer in your life?”

“Yeah.  It’s…complicated.”

“And you think complicated is a good place to be in your life?”  When I didn’t say anything, he picked the tongs up again as if remembering his entire purpose out here—but his focus remained on me, and I felt like a mosquito underneath the hand about to slap me.  “Living here would also mean stability—for both you and the kids.  Are there any other reasons for not wanting to be here that I should know about?”

His reasons were valid—but I was operating from emotion.  When I’d gone to college the first time, a freshman away from home, I’d relished being out from under their watchful eyes.

Of course, I’d also gotten pregnant.

“Oh, dad, I don’t know.  I just…need to think about it some more.”

Quickly, my father took the remaining steaks off the grill.  “Well, think long and hard about it, Randi.  We’re offering you a fresh start.”  As he turned off the knobs and the flames died out, he made eye contact with me again.  “We love you, Sarah, and Devon.  We want things to be better for all of you.”

The meal was strained and awkward, my parents’ words echoing in my head.  I was going to talk to Sarah about the incident that happened in Sunday School, but not in front of my parents.  So while my mom and dad went on and on about their plans to go on a cruise in February and all that entailed, I was more immersed in wondering what the hell I was going to say to Sarah.

On the way home, as Devon continued a never-ending conversation that needed no prompting, chattering about what he did last night—playing golf with grandpa in the backyard, followed by swimming, playing video games, and staying up until ten—I drowned in my own thoughts while I sped down the highway.  More than once, I caught myself going too fast, and the last time I’d slowed down just in time as a highway patrol car crouched at the bottom of the next hill.

If only my luck were always that good.

Once we got home, I didn’t have much time before I’d have to start getting ready to work my shift at Play It Again, but I needed to talk to Sarah while the memories of this morning were still fresh in her mind.  Because Sarah had already meandered back to her room, I told Devon he could play a video game—andhe didn’t have to keep it quiet like I usually asked.  The conversation with my daughter would go better if her brother was preoccupied.  Once he’d settled in, I made my way to Sarah’s room and entered without knocking.  Then I sat on the edge of the bed.  “Tell me what happened this morning.”

“Tell you what?”  Oh, God.  This was difficult enough, wondering how many of my own opinions had influenced my child, thinking of all the times when I’d questioned if there really was an all-seeing deity somewhere merely watching, allowing all manner of horrible things to transpire on the planet.

But this had to be done.

“Grandpa said you guys had to leave church because of things you said in the classroom this morning.”

“It’s stupid.”

“What’s stupid?”

“Church.  If there’s really a God, why haven’t I ever seen him?”

Fuck.  There it was.  “Sweetheart, it’s your choice to believe or not.  But it’s disrespectful to trash other people’s beliefs, no matter how you personally feel, and it’s rude to yell curses at people.”

“Well, the teacher was phony.  And she wanted me to memorize a Bible verse.”

“What’s so wrong about that?”

“I didn’t want to.  It was something about God loving the world.  If God really loves the world, why do bad things happen?”

Just as I’d feared—all my beliefs being echoed back to me.

“I don’t know, honey.  And I’m not saying it’s bad for you to not believe it.  But I am saying it’s not good for you to disrespect what other people believe.  These same people believe that bad things happen as a test and make you stronger.”

I could barely hear my child’s voice when she hissed, “That’s bullshit.”

“Young lady, you know you are not allowed to use that kind of language.  Grandpa said—”

“Yeah, I said the F word.”

“Well, no more.  Understand?”

“You say bad words, mom.”

What defense did I have against that particular argument?  “You’re young, Sarah, and it’s my job to make sure you grow up to be a good person.”

“So cussing is good when you’re older but not when you’re a kid?”

“No, it’s not good just because I’m older.”  I took a moment to let out a slow breath.  “I promise to try not to curse anymore—but you’ve got to promise me the same thing.”

“Okay.”

But something gnawed at me and I was beginning to question everything.  Was I sacrificing my children’s well-being in exchange for what I’d called my independence in my conversation with my father?  “Sweetie, I’ve got to get ready for work now.  Are you going to be all right?”

“I guess.”

Not really an answer—but I wasn’t going to demand more.  Not now, anyway.

After getting in my work clothes, I walked the kids across the street to Noreen’s house.  Fortunately, Sunday evenings at