Broken Creek (The Creek #1) (2 page)

“Did you just roll your eyes again?” he asked with a laugh, his face still hidden from my view, but he seemed to have magic vision.

I glanced in Sara Beth’s direction. “No, never,” I lied.

Speaking to the back side of the paper, I said, “Look, I know you mean well, but the answer is still the same. I took all the classes I could at the community college, and I’m proud of my Associates Degree, but I simply can’t afford to go off to school. Besides, with Mom’s history of two heart attacks, my leaving would surely cause a third.” My sigh was more audible than I’d intended.

Dr. P slammed the paper down, jarring the contents of my coffee cup, and stared at me firmly. “You’re as stubborn as my daughters were, but I managed to win those arguments. You’re over twenty and around here that’s almost retirement age. If you don’t get out of this town now, you’re never going to have a life. As hard as it was, I made sure my girls got out and saw the world. I love you like one of my own, and I assure you, Mary will be fine, and we’ll be here for her. Think about it long and hard. I can help you get that scholarship in Dallas, but the clock’s ticking.”

“You never give up, do you? You mean, it would get me away from Stephan.” I paused and raised a hand in defeat. “You’re so frustrating. Give me the information and I’ll give it a look, but I’m not promising anything,” I uttered under a huffy breath.

“Finally, she turns a corner,” he said to his wife sitting to his left, before he directed his attention to me once more. “Great news, but you’ve only got two weeks to submit your application for consideration. Notifications will mail out in April, and the next nursing class starts in August. I’ve already drafted my recommendation letter.”

I loved working with him, and he’d taught me so much about medicine, but he held the market on being stubborn. Whenever I thought about leaving, I felt guilty I would leave him shorthanded.

But as promised, Dr. Palmer slipped the folder for the nursing program on my desk for me to take home and review, before he and Sara Beth left for the day.

If anything, the man is relentless.

I slid the folder in my purse and locked up the office with a knot in my stomach. Agreeing to do what he wanted was so much more than just going to school.

The home I shared with my mom was my childhood home, the place I was born, since I’d proudly decided to come in the middle of the night before they could get to a hospital. We weren’t overly blessed financially, but our needs were met, and the land had been handed down through my father’s family and had managed to hold its value. My father worked as a traveling contract salesman for auto parts. Sometimes he did well, and some months he didn’t, but it equaled out to a decent living, just not a lot of benefits.

When he died, Mom discovered he’d taken out a mortgage on the property without her permission and had even forged her name on the loan documents. One of his traveling buddies from work came to the funeral and said Dad had done it to pay back gambling debts. We’d never known he gambled—talk about a secret life. The news was staggering and embarrassing. Months passed before Mom felt brave enough to show her face in public—even in church. It was difficult enough just gathering the money to pay for funeral expenses. Every time I mentioned selling the place, she’d stop speaking to me for at least a week.

Because of Dad’s shenanigans, Mom took a twelve-hour a day job at Rudy’s Diner, which nearly had her feet next to the grave. Most of the time, it was six days a week just to pay the bills, and even then, we needed my paycheck to patch the gaps. We’d been living this way for more than five years. But I was raised to take care of family; it was our culture.

To leave my mom for schooling would go against everything I’d been taught…

As I crossed over the bridge covering the large creek that ran on our property, I felt the unevenness of the wood bridge, heard the clanking of the unsettled old boards, and thought about all the work that would need to be done as soon as the weather warmed. The to-do list of perpetual homeowner problems continued to mount and some of them might not wait until the warm weather. Like Mom’s heart, the fix-it list was a time bomb waiting to explode.

What I would give for a genie and three wishes.

Alone most evenings while Mom worked, I used the time to do laundry and housekeeping before she returned. I didn’t watch much television, since cable was a luxury we didn’t budget for, so I spent my spare time reading magazines or books that the patients would leave behind at the office. My life was a modest one, but at least I could say it was for the most part an honest one.

I made myself a peanut butter sandwich and surfed through the paperwork Dr. Palmer had given me.

Two weeks to make a decision
…

A week later, I was still carrying around the submission forms for the nursing program in my purse and pondering how to bring the subject up with Mom. Time was running out, so I thought of a good plan for telling her at the creek after church on Sunday.

When the weather was nice, we’d pack a picnic lunch and go down on our property to a small wooden bridge overlying the creek. It was there that Mom said she always felt at peace. It was also the place she called Forgiveness Creek.

She’d sit there on the bench Dad had made for her and talk to him and God and just do a lot of soul searching. She said her answers always came at the creek if she gave her questions time.

I wonder if they ever did for Dad. I knew he’d loved her, but his demons had got the best of him, and there was one she knew nothing about.

At the creek, I picked at my food as nausea roared within me, nervous that my decision was going to destroy her. “Dr. Palmer has presented an opportunity for me to go to nursing school, and I thought we could talk about it,” I blurted out.

“What took you so long?” she said with a smile.

“What?” I paused and searched her eyes. A big smile crept up on her face as though she’d been keeping a secret. “Oh my gosh, you knew and you didn’t say anything?”

“He came in and talked with me about it before he ever gave it to you. Since you’re telling me about it, I’m guessing that means you’ve made a decision?” She reached over my lap and gripped my left hand in hers.

“I still have to apply, and he’s promised to write me a letter of recommendation, but that doesn’t mean I’ll get in.”

“You will, I’m sure of it. So, what’s your bigger worry?”

“Leaving you and taking care of this place.” My eyes connected with hers before I broke the gaze and looked out over the land.

“I’ve already thought about that, and I’ve decided to sell part of the back acres. Blackburn Reality thinks they might have a potential buyer, and I’m going to lease the front pasture to Mr. Clancy for his cattle, which would be enough to pay for the utilities and taxes. Mr. Clancy also said he would do the hay for us and fix the bridge as soon as possible. The rest I can take care of.”

“You’ve obviously thought this through,” I said, giving her a hug.

“And so have you. I want the best for you, and while having you here is nice for the company, it’s not what’s best. You need to move on, Wrenn. There’s a life outside of Hatman and past Stephan. I love him like my own, but I don’t know that you’ll ever forgive him. That means Mr. Right is out there for you, and you deserve to find him.” Her voice trembled in a whisper, and I heard her exhale in a deep sigh.

I was curious if I’d used her health and our home as an excuse because I was afraid of moving on. Chicken to go out into the real world.

We walked back up to the house and spread the numerous forms out on the kitchen table. For the scholarship, financial records were required, and for the first time, my net worth was actually in front of me in black and white, and it was a pitiful sight.

I’d managed to save almost twelve hundred dollars at the ripe old age of twenty-four. But one thing was for sure, Mom had taught me how to be frugal.

There was no guarantee I would be accepted, but a scholarship meant an education and an opportunity to have a real life—one of my own. One away from the place that gave me love and caused me so much hidden pain.

My fantasies took me away, if only my reality would.

Nerves were exploding and twisting inside me as I put the stamps on the envelope and walked it out to the mailbox. I trembled with anxiety and excitement at the same time. If I received the scholarship, my world was going to flip on its axis.

Seven Months Later

“Wrenn, do you need the other suitcase down from the attic?” Mom hollered up the stairwell.

“No, it’s in the car packed already.”

“That’s my girl, always the planner.” Mom’s voice was muffled, and I knew by the sound of it that she had already headed back into the kitchen, instead of coming up the stairs.

The kitchen was our happy place. She was a great cook and made the best oatmeal-raisin cookies on the planet, and she’d promised me some for my trip to Dallas.

When my father was killed in a bar fight just across the Oklahoma state line, friends had tried to step in to help us, but Mom had been both embarrassed and stoic, refusing a handout from anyone. She said he’d always been the rebel, but that night he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

From then on, keeping a roof over our head became her cross to bear, and she also became overly protective of me. I did of her, as well. Every time I thought about moving on with my own life, guilt consumed me.

I heard the stairs of our old house creaking, giving away her pending arrival at my door.

“If you forget something, I can mail it to you or you can pick it up when you come home in a couple of weeks, maybe?” Her face showed a fake smile.

I knew she was happy for me and more than sad for herself.

We both knew I would not be in home in a couple of weeks. I didn’t want to think about why she’d thrown that out there, but I could understand. I was leaving to make new friends and a new career for myself. She was going to be lonely. My gut surged with guilt, and my hands trembled as I inhaled deep breaths to calm myself.

Neither of us had received a fair hand, but then, who does in life?

“I think I got it. I’ve checked my list over and over.” I dug deep in my soul for a fake front of happiness; there was no room for sad emotions at that moment.

“Let me see it?” she asked.

I handed over my well-worn sheet of paper. She looked at the list and dragged her finger down each item as if mentally checking it from a mother’s point of view.