Better Not Love Me Read online

  "No way," he said. "They get to give animals medicine to make them better, but they have to put them to sleep too. I couldn’t do that."

  "That's understandable," she said. "So what would you like to do?"

  "What do you mean? Like for a job?"

  "Yes, like for a job."

  "I'm only in high school," he deadpanned.

  "And in a year you need to have decided what you're going to do next. It'll be here before you know it."

  Marcus didn't say anything for a while, but continued to scrub the dishes and hand them off to Amelia. Eventually he spoke again.

  "Do you think Pastor Isakson would hire me?"

  "To do what?"

  "To fix that ratty shelter—the Annex."

  This surprised Amelia. She had assumed that he wanted nothing to do with the place.

  "I'm not sure they are looking for employees. They're running on a shoestring budget."

  "Then maybe I could volunteer there? That's what Max did at the animal clinic and now he gets paid to work there."

  "I'll tell you what, let's go see Pastor Isakson and Lori when we go back to town next week. Maybe you can do some work there on the weekends when school starts again. I know they could definitely use some help."

  "OK, thanks Mom. I think that would be cool."

  They continued to finish the dishes in silence, which was perfectly fine with Amelia.

  From the deck she could hear laugher from a game of cards being played by Max, Priscilla and Susanna. Max was teaching the girls how to play poker and apparently they weren't getting the hang of it, which resulted in some hilarious confusion. He playfully teased them, but continued to shuffle the cards and play on.

  She reveled in the sound. Joy. Happiness. She wished the day wouldn't end, but she knew in just three days she'd be back home again; and this summer, with all of its ups and downs, would be a warm but distant and sometimes confusing memory.

  * * *

  Screw Nate. Screw him for toying with her heart when she didn't ask for it, Amelia thought. She didn't want it. She just wanted a summer with the kids. Over the past few weeks as summer wound down she kept repeating this over and over in her head, but that meant Nate was never far from her mind and she hated it. Hated the uncontrollable feelings that she had for him. This unspoken power to impact her being. If she never saw him again it would be too soon. She was done. That was enough.

  Amy had come to the same conclusion. She had commiserated with Amelia each night as they finished out the summer to the point that they stopped talking about men altogether. No man in their lives had ever been reliable, believable or trustworthy.

  What good are men anyway?

  It's funny how in the absence of an answer one can easily fill in the blanks. Even in the worst of circumstances. Nate left the lake. Didn't say a word and she had to hand it to him. He didn't even leave a hint of what he was up to. It took guts to stick to your plan like that, she thought. The guts of a weak man. She didn't want to think these thoughts. But that's the twisted struggle where desire and hope are cut to pieces by pain. It wasn't fair. Love isn't fair.

  Chapter 36

  One Month Later

  In what seemed like no time at all, summer turned into fall and Amelia found herself puttering around her big house all alone. It was a place in which she had not spent much time at all. When she was working full-time she was only there in the morning hours and usually only returned home well after dark. She was embarrassed to have paid what she paid for the place because she didn't need the space at all. In fact, there were rooms in the house that she never entered. A home of just over 4,500 square feet was not a mansion, but it was remarkably close for the Spokane area. The house sat on a wind-swept hill with a dozen other oversized homes on oversized lots. A curvy road carved into the hillside snaked back and forth to each residence. The road being the only thing that connected the neighbors. She didn't know any of their faces and certainly not any of their names.

  If not for the kids occupying the house every other week, she was certain she would go certifiably insane if forced to stay there alone indefinitely. Amelia didn't think of herself as particularly social but the weeks alone in this home were the first times that she'd ever had to entertain herself for extended periods of time. Back when she lived in Bonners Ferry there were Amy and her kids roaming the tiny house with her own children. Such a contrast.

  Thankfully Josh agreed to return to a shared custody agreement now that Amelia would be in town more since she was currently unemployed. This meant every Friday they would trade responsibilities for the kids. Marcus wasn't a huge fan of the back and forth, but he was grumpy about most things anyway. His school was closer to Josh's house, so the extra driving from his mother’s home was time he didn't appreciate.

  Susanna seemed pleased with having more time with her mom. It wasn't anything against her father, Amelia was certain of that, but a daughter needed her mother. And truth be told, Amelia needed her daughter too.

  Amelia's free time—of which she had an abundance—was spent obsessing over the fate of Mr. Z's. She lobbied the local Historic Society to declare the Mr. Z's building as a historic landmark and thus limit the sort of modifications Graham Barnes and Mr. Z's could make. It was a long shot. The society took up the cause with much fanfare, even issuing a press release. They acted quicker than was the norm for such things, but to no avail. Mr. Z's did not want to modify the exterior of the building, just the interior—by emptying it—which as a business they had the right to do under state laws. Amelia wrote a letter to the editor decrying the proposed closure of the business. Several customers followed suit, sharing stories of their great trips to the store with family and friends. But Mr. Z's was no longer a locally owned mom-and-pop establishment. It was owned by a big corporation in Texas. Just like long-forgotten Radio Shack and Kmart outlets, few people could get up in arms about a corporation closing a few stores.

  Riddell responded to the minimal uproar on behalf of Mr. Z's, saying it was trying to keep the Spokane store open. In a statement rife with irony, Riddell wrote that the business couldn't operate as a charity nor could it live on nostalgia alone. Amelia was heartsick.

  The battle for Mr. Z's was one she was destined to lose. This was the same conclusion that Derek had come to as well. Amelia couldn't face him, so they only corresponded through email. She was ashamed, because he had such faith in her and she'd let him down.

  She'd made dozens of calls to Riddell and sent just as many emails to Graham Barnes, but like her letter to the editor, she was shouting and nobody was listening.

  Mr. Z's is a beloved institution in Spokane, Washington. Closing the store will in no way benefit Mr. Z's Corp. or Riddell Industries. Part of Riddell's mission statement is to be a good corporate citizen and certainly eliminating history is not part of that charter. For more than 50 years store windows have become a beloved holiday viewing tradition for shoppers in downtown Spokane. Each window has been carefully designed to portray a quintessential holiday scene complete with simple animatronics and accompanying music. Taking away this tradition makes one think of the Grinch singlehandedly destroying Christmas in Whoville. Are you comfortable as the Grinch, Mr. Barnes? You're a mean one, Mr. Barnes.

  -Amelia Cook

  Amelia knew the taunting was over the top, but after so many carefully crafted emails she allowed herself to lash out, if only a little. And apparently it worked. After many additional messages, eventually Barnes replied.

  I pulled your last message from the junk folder, where all the rest of your whimpering messages have been directed. There's a reason nobody cared when you left Mr. Z's Corp. last spring. Your sappy nature makes you soft and weak. Ineffective. You don't have the stones for this business. Never did. You ran this company into the ground, and now you take shots at me as I try to recover from your mistakes? But I'm the Grinch? You can stop sending me messages now.

  -Graham Barnes

  Of course Amelia continued to send message
s to Barnes because now she knew he was reading them. But it didn't matter. Appealing to him was useless. He knew what he was doing. His terrible business practices were being put in place on purpose, and he designed it that way so they could rid themselves of the business. Amelia still didn't understand this horrible method. Barnes didn't want the business to make money. How do you convince someone to make their business successful when they don't want it to be? It didn't make sense to even ask the question.

  And so once again she failed. Failed to make sense of the situation she was in. Failed to save the thing she adored. Failed to hold onto yet another relationship.

  * * *

  Amelia watched the maple trees on the hill behind her house sway with the wind. The early afternoon sun streamed through the quaking leaves. The expansive backyard was already covered in fallen leaves. She noticed recently that occasionally a landscape company would arrive and clean up her yard—an arrangement she must have made at some point. She didn't remember doing it. In fact, at the moment she didn’t remember what she'd done just that morning. She was on her second glass of wine, that much she knew for certain, because it was her last bottle of Arbor Crest Cabernet Sauvignon.

  It was only Tuesday. She didn't need to be in control of herself for three more days when the kids returned Friday. So she sipped the wine and became numb. It didn't matter anyway. She resigned herself to thumbing through a gossip magazine. That would be her goal for the day. Quite lofty aspirations.

  Amelia thought she heard the click of the deadbolt on the front door followed by the beeping noise of the alarm waiting to be disarmed. Seconds later the key pad beeped as a code was entered and the alarm went silent.

  Someone was in the house. How did they know the code? She had forgotten about hiring a landscaper. Did she forget about hiring a housekeeper as well? It was possible, but unlikely.

  Amelia rushed from the back of the house to the half-wall that overlooked the entryway one floor below. But by the time she arrived there, whoever was in the house had already moved on.

  She heard the creek of the stairs first, and then she saw the shadow cast across the living room floor. It was too late for her to run. Maybe she could hide. If she sprinted for the hallway toward the bedrooms, she'd be seen and the only other exit was down the stairs that currently contained the intruder. She hid behind an overstuffed arm chair. The blood in her ears pounded as adrenaline shot through her body. She crouched even lower and waited. The steps grew closer. The intruder was headed toward her.

  She wanted to close her eyes, but she forced them open. She saw the boots first, then the jeans and then the rather trim little butt on the intruder.

  "Josh?" she blurted out.

  The single word was enough to make him jump in an awkward prancing leap away from her.

  "Holy crap, Amelia!" he exclaimed. "You scared me to death. Why are you hiding behind that chair?"

  "Why are you in my house? How did you get the code?"

  "I've always had the code, don't you remember? I used to live here."

  "So you just decided to drop in unannounced," Amelia accused. "And wander around the house?"

  "Yes. That's exactly what I decided," Josh deadpanned and left the ridiculous accusation to settle between them.

  "OK, then why?" Amelia asked.

  "Susanna left her science report here," he said. "It's due tomorrow and she asked me to come by. I texted you, but you didn't reply."

  Amelia wondered at that moment where her cell phone was exactly. It was perfectly reasonable that she didn’t get his messages, yet she wouldn't tell him that.

  "I was in the neighborhood and since I knew the code I figured I would save us both some trouble and just grab it from her room," he said. "And it looks like I've interrupted something."

  He motioned to the wine glass that was still, remarkably, in her hand without a drop spilled.

  "Oh, no. It's just me," she said, blushing.

  "It's two o'clock in the afternoon," Josh said.

  "And I wasn't expecting company or to have to defend myself against an intruder, so color us both surprised."

  She took one last big gulp of the wine and set the glass on the counter.

  "So get the science report then," she said impatiently, motioning him toward Susanna's room.

  Amelia followed behind, annoyed and frustrated by the sudden appearance of her ex and how he walked into her home like he owned the place. She was also annoyed at herself. Susanna had a science project? She didn't know about it and to find out that it was actually at her house made her feel very inept.

  "So you were just in the neighborhood?" she asked. Her accusatory tone was clear. "Nobody is just in the neighborhood way up here."

  Josh pointed to the logo on the long sleeve fire-retardant shirt he was wearing. The logo was of the local utility company he worked for.

  "We're rebuilding the substation that feeds the neighborhood. Apparently you rich folks need more juice to power your toys."

  Amelia took offense at the comment and couldn't believe Josh actually said it. The two of them grew up together, dirt poor. They'd struggled to make ends meet for years, scraping by doing backbreaking labor for little pay. She'd lucked into her role at Mr. Z's and they had paid her handsomely for it. Enough that she could walk away at least for a while. Josh had a career too. He was making good, honest money. Why did he have to begrudge her success?

  Of course she wasn't about to say any of this to him.

  "I'm not rich and I'm not like the people up here," was all she could muster.

  Josh was now flipping through papers on Susanna's desk looking for the science report, the comment quickly forgotten.

  "Are you sure she said it was here?" Amelia asked.

  "Yes, otherwise I wouldn’t be here. Trust me. I don't want to be."

  The two of them looked high and low for ten minutes, but didn't find what they were looking for. Amelia watched Josh admire a framed photograph Susanna had on a shelf by her bed. It was of their formerly complete, happy family. She and Josh stood behind Marcus and Susanna at the opening of one of the Mr. Z's chain stores. All four of them were smiling at the camera. It had been a good day and, at the time, Amelia had thought that the four of them really would be together as a family for good. But what did she know?

  When Josh looked at the picture, Amelia wondered if he thought the same as she. A mixture of sadness at the loss, but happiness at the memory all the same.

  "It might be in my office," she said, breaking the silence and awkwardness of them looking at the photograph. "She sometimes uses the computer in there."

  Amelia led them down the hall into the upstairs office adjacent to the bedroom.

  "We need to talk about Marcus too, since I'm here," Josh said.

  "Oh?" Amelia replied, partly curious, but mostly annoyed that Josh knew something that she didn't about her child. Like she was a bad parent for not knowing everything. Or maybe she was reading too much into it.

  "You know he's been working at the Annex a few days a week after school, right?"

  "Of course I do," she snapped. But she didn't know it. They stopped outside the office and continued the conversation.

  Josh explained that he got a call from Pastor Isakson about Marcus' behavior at the shelter.

  "He said that he made a few of the residents feel uncomfortable. Enough so that they complained about him to the on-site manager. Pastor Isakson was very kind about it and didn't accuse Marcus of anything, but he wanted to let me know just in case."

  "How could he possibly have made someone uncomfortable? That place would make anyone uncomfortable. He's only there to help."

  "I agree."

  "Did you ask Marcus about it? What's his side? What did he actually do?" Amelia asked, every maternal bone in her body quaking.

  "I guess he met some girl there that he's been spending time with when he volunteers. Her name is Denny. He told me that he befriended her a few months back when you took him there. Denny told Mar
cus about one of the men leering at some of the younger girls who live at the shelter. He asked the man to knock it off and that was it. He said there are some rough characters who stay there and the guy didn't take it so well."

  "He was doing them a favor then. He was standing up for somebody. He should be thanked for it."

  "Pastor Isakson agreed, but told Marcus that if something like that happens, that he's supposed to report it, not try to handle it himself."

  "This isn’t an issue," she said. "This is a good thing. He's not getting into fistfights. He controlled himself. And he was standing up for a girl who couldn't do it herself."

  "Right, but we need to make sure that it stays that way, which is why I brought it up, so you are in the loop," he said.

  "Thank you. I'm fully in the loop," she said sharply.

  They entered the office and began searching in silence, but Marcus' continued troubles weren't far from her mind.

  * * *

  Amelia felt strange being alone with Josh in the office, so near her own bedroom. How easy it would be to slip back into their old ways as a couple. That was one area they never had trouble before. They were always close physically. They could fight and disagree all day, but when it came time to turn out the light, they made up for it. Not every night of course, they were human after all. Amelia had been more than satisfied with their lovemaking. But she’d removed that line of thinking from her mind years ago; so to think of it again made her blush, while at the same time wanting to push him into the bedroom and for just a few minutes forget about the sadness and the loss, and simply enjoy the pleasure of being together. But she didn't do that. She had walked right past the bedroom without so much as a glance. She couldn't let that happen.

  "Here it is," Josh said. The report, in a sleek plastic folder, was sitting on Amelia's desk. It was a wonder she didn’t notice it before. Of course she didn’t know she was supposed to be looking for it. Only Josh did.

  Josh picked up the report, then looked in awe at the wall opposite the windows.