Matthew's Choice Page 9

  “I do that sometimes. The kids at school think I’m weird.”

  She shifted on the soft leather couch and put her arm around his thin shoulders. “Then we both are.”

  For a minute neither of them said anything. A log shifted in the fireplace, sending sparks up the chimney. She loved this room, the two recliners her mom and dad sat in, the current book her dad was reading on the table between them and her mom’s knitting in a basket on the floor. A grouping of prints adorned one wall, pictures she’d painted of the farm. On another wall was Clint’s first metal sculpture.

  The room reflected her family’s personality. For some reason, she thought of Matt’s apartment and realized her problem with his decor. It had been wiped clean of his personality.

  Noah pointed to the picture of a running horse. “I like that. I wish I had a horse.”

  “That was mine when I was a little girl.”

  “Cool.” His nose wrinkled in a frown. “Did someone paint that for you?”

  “Me,” she said, pleased he liked it. Painting was her relief valve. A case like Noah’s would definitely send her searching for her oils and brushes. She rose from the couch and took down the painting so he could see it better.

  Noah touched the canvas, brushing his finger over the horse’s nose. “What’s his name? Do you still have him?”

  His questions tumbled together. Other than when he’d held the kitten, Allie hadn’t seen him this animated. “His name is Bridger, and he’s still here at the farm.”

  “Do you think I can ride him sometime?”

  “I don’t see why not.” Maybe Bridger could be his relief valve.

  Noah yawned, and she said, “Let’s get you into bed, young man.”

  Allie led the way to Clint’s old room. “You’re sleeping in my brother’s room.”

  Noah climbed in bed, and she tucked him in. The bed dwarfed his small frame. “I’m just across the hall, so if you need anything, wake me up.”

  He nodded. Sadness had settled in his face again.

  “It’s going to be okay, Noah.”

  He traced the plaid pattern on his sheet. A sigh settled in his shoulders. She waited, not wanting to push him.

  Finally he looked up, his brows pinched. “Are we going to my house tomorrow?”

  “After breakfast.”

  “Our stuff may be sittin’ on the road.”

  She looked at him. “What?”

  “Mom hasn’t paid the rent, and today’s the first.”

  So that’s what was bothering him. And how many kids knew when the first of the month rolled around, anyway? “Has it happened before?”

  He nodded. “Before we came to Cedar Grove. It’s been better here. Mom gets to work more. And she hasn’t been getting...sick. Until last night.”

  A viselike band gripped her chest. Somehow she had to make Mariah understand what she was doing to her son. If Mariah lived. “Where do you stay when your mom works?”

  “Home.”

  Alone. While Mariah worked nights at a local bar. “I think you’ll like staying here.”

  “But what if Uncle Matt wants me to go with him?”

  Tuesday that could be a real possibility. She chewed the inside of her lip. “The court may let him take care of you until your mom is better, but if that happens, it’ll be because the judge knows your uncle wants you.”

  “But he doesn’t want me—he didn’t even know about me.”

  Allie searched for an answer. “I don’t think that’s entirely his fault. Grown-ups get messed up in their thinking sometimes, and they lose touch with their families. I’m not saying it’s right, just that it happens, and I think that’s what happened with Matt and your mom.”

  Noah folded his arms across his chest. “Mom says we don’t need anybody.”

  She sighed. “Let’s look at it from a different direction. Your mom’s in the hospital and you have to stay somewhere. Which would you prefer? Being with your Uncle Matt or the shelter?”

  He pierced her with his blue eyes. “Why can’t I stay here?”

  “This is just temporary. Most of the time, courts want to keep families together.” She tried to remember whether a nine-year-old had any say so in court. “It’s complicated. I want you to be prepared in case the judge awards custody to your Uncle Matt.”

  “But he wants to take Patches to the animal rescue because she’s too much trouble. She’s too little. She’ll die there.”

  Would he do the same thing with him, if Noah became a problem? That was his unspoken question. “Oh, I think once he has time to think about it, he won’t. After all, Matt saved Patches.” She had to have a talk with Matt. “All I’m saying is, maybe you need to give your uncle a chance.”

  When Noah didn’t answer, she hugged him. “Just think about it.”

  She would have to do the same thing.

  * * *

  WHEN SHE RETURNED to the den, Allie automatically started straightening the room, picking up magazines and stacking them neatly on the coffee table.

  “Now I’ll have to sort through those to find the article I was reading.”

  She jerked her head toward the door. “Dad. I thought you were at the barn.”

  “Just left. The mom and her new son needed bonding time.” He glanced at the magazines. “What’s with this tidying up of my magazines? Are we feeling a need to restore order somewhere?”

  Busted. How did he do that? How did he read her emotions from the doorway? “Maybe.”

  He walked to her and put his arm around her shoulders. “Anything you want to talk about?”

  She leaned into his embrace. Her dad remained as solid in size as he was in heart. His calloused hands could heft a bale of hay onto a flatbed trailer or gentle a terrified mare in the throes of a breech birth.

  “When you were straightening, did you see a spiral notebook?”

  She pulled a red composition book from the bottom of the stack.

  “Oh, good. I need to give that to Clint in the morning.”

  “Clint’s coming?”

  Her dad nodded. “I told you last week we’re going to your grandmother’s for a few days. Clint is taking care of some of the horse matters.”

  She’d forgotten her parents were leaving town next weekend. “I could’ve done that, and Clint wouldn’t have to drive over from Memphis.”

  He chuckled. “Clint doesn’t mind taking a few vacation days to help the old man. And I have several visits scheduled for the vet, and he comes during the day. Didn’t figure you’d want to take time off from school to run out here.”

  “Oh. I’ll let Clint handle that.” Allie lined the magazines up again and looked around for something else to straighten.

  “I heard Matthew is back in town.”

  “Yeah.” She breathed the word out. He squeezed her shoulder.

  “Do you wish you’d made a different choice seven years ago? Back then you didn’t want to leave Cedar Grove.”

  “I still don’t want to leave Cedar Grove,” she said. “But that isn’t why we broke up. That last year of college Matt changed. He became so focused on leaving his past behind that he became someone I didn’t know. Besides, that’s past history. He’s practically engaged to somebody else now. She’s better suited to the new Matt.”

  Her dad lifted her chin. “Honey, you can hold your own with anyone. And don’t you ever forget it.”

  She curved her lips into a tenuous smile. “Thanks. I needed that.”

  * * *

  STEPPING THROUGH THE Carsons’ back door Sunday morning was like stepping back seven years. Little had been changed in a kitchen that reflected its owners. Nothing fancy, just oak cabinets and butcher-block countertops that carried the rustic theme to the terra-cotta floor. Even the blue-and-white
checkered curtains looked the same, giving the room warmth that he wanted to wrap around him. So different from his shiny silver-and-black kitchen in the city.

  But it wasn’t the homespun charm that made the kitchen special. That came from the people in it. Stan Carson stood at the stove, wearing a white apron that proclaimed The Chef Is In. He waved a spatula in his left hand and held out the other. “Good to see you again, Matthew.”

  “Thank you, sir.” Matt hadn’t been eager to meet Allie’s dad again. Hadn’t been too sure of the kind of reception he’d receive. Mr. C’s grip was firm, but not bone-crushing. Encouraging.

  Mrs. Carson patted his shoulder as she carried a platter of bacon to the table. “Take a seat, Matt. Allie is cleaning Noah’s shoes. Would you like a couple of pancakes? Stan’s making his famous chocolate-chip ones.”

  “Uncle Matt, did you ever see a baby horse before? Mr. C has one in the barn. And he’s not as tall as me.”

  Explained the shoes. And Stan already had the boy calling him by his special name. Matt pulled the chair beside Noah from the table. “Yep, I’ve seen a foal before. And pancakes would be fine, Mrs. C.”

  “Miss Allie is sitting there.”

  “Take the end seat, Matthew,” Stan said as he flipped a pancake in the air.

  Allie entered the kitchen from the hallway and set Noah’s shoes beside the door. “Watch where you walk the next time, mister.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  She glanced briefly at Matt and nodded before turning to her mother. “Did I hear you talking to Clint earlier?”

  “You did. He said he’d be here before we finish breakfast.”

  He barely heard their words. Allie looked...different this morning. It was her hair. It was straight instead of curly, and it must be the navy sweater that made her eyes so blue. He reined in his thoughts as Mr. C set a plate of pancakes on the table, and Allie joined them at the table.

  Conversation slowed as everyone ate. Matt didn’t know when he’d last had chocolate-chip pancakes. Yes, he did. Right here in this kitchen.

  Noah leaned toward him. “Did you feed Patches this morning?”

  “Nope. She’s too fat. I think she needs to go on a diet.”

  Noah’s gasp startled him. “But—but...”

  Allie patted his hand. “He’s teasing you. I’m sure he fed the kitten.”

  “No, he isn’t. He wants to give Patches away.”

  “Oh-hh.” Matt made two syllables of the word. “If I planned to give Patches away, would I go out this morning and buy a bed for her?”

  “You’re going to keep her?” Noah wrinkled his nose. “But you said last night—”

  “I was tired last night. When I was feeding Patches this morning, she said she was tired of sleeping in that carrier. And she wanted to know what I was going to do about it.”

  Noah narrowed his eyes. “Patches didn’t talk to you.”

  “Then why did I go and buy her a kitty bed?” When Noah kept staring at him, Matt shrugged. “Okay, maybe not with words, but believe me, she can meow. We’ll take it by the house and see how she likes it after we go to the hospital.”

  The frown lines eased in the small boy’s face, and his shoulders relaxed. “Okay.”

  The back door opened and Clint hustled in. “It’s cold out there this morning,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “I hope y’all saved me something to eat.”

  The kitchen erupted in a flurry of activity once more as Mrs. C embraced her son.

  “Your pancakes will be ready in a minute, son.”

  “Matt, good to see you again. Great New Year’s Eve party.” He gripped Matt’s hand. “And you must be Noah,” he said, turning to the boy. “Did you know your uncle was one of the best quarterbacks Cedar Grove High ever had? And he was pretty fair at basketball, too.”

  “I don’t know about that. You were pretty good yourself.”

  Clint waved off Matt and hugged his sister before launching into a conversation with his dad about the current state of the high school basketball team. Unrest started in his heart and spread through his body. He checked his watch. “Uh, if we leave now, we have just enough time to run by Mariah’s house before we go to the hospital. That way we can get Noah’s clothes and look for something that Mariah can wear when she gets out of ICU. Once visiting time is over, we’ll go check on Patches.”

  Noah scrambled out of his chair. “Can we bring Patches here?”

  Matt hesitated. “Why don’t we leave Patches where she is until we know what the judge is going to do Tuesday?”

  Noah turned to Allie, clearly looking for an ally, but she shook her head, for once agreeing with Matt. Suddenly it hit him. Come Tuesday, if the judge awarded him temporary custody, he would be responsible for Noah. And he didn’t know the first thing about raising a nine-year-old boy.

  It was a long shot, but hopefully Jessica did.

  * * *

  THE CLOSER THEY got to the house, the more Noah thought he was going to throw up. What if all their stuff was on the street? It’d happened before when his mom couldn’t pay the rent. He squeezed his eyes shut. Don’t be anything there. He swayed as the car turned the corner, then he sneaked a peek out of one eye. Empty. The curb was empty. His body relaxed and the lump in his throat melted. He sucked in air. It was okay. Today, at least.

  “Do you have a key?” Miss Allie asked.

  He shook his head. Who would steal what they had? “The back door isn’t locked.”

  Uncle Matt pulled in behind them as they stood beside Miss Allie’s car. Matt’s face looked all sad, and suddenly, Noah didn’t want his uncle and Miss Allie seeing inside the house. “You wait here, and I’ll go get my stuff.”

  His uncle patted Noah’s shoulder. “No, we’ll go with you.”

  Noah walked as slow as he could to the back door. He’d never let any of the kids at school come home with him, and he’d never wanted Miss Allie to see inside his house. The outside was bad enough with paint coming off the boards.

  With a sigh, he pushed it open, and bleach stung his nose. He’d forgotten to take the clothes out of the pot on the stove. His uncle and Miss Allie followed him through the kitchen to his tiny room that contained only a twin bed. He ducked his head, refusing to look at them.

  Miss Allie cleared her throat. “Uh, where are your clothes, Noah?”

  He dragged a black plastic bag from under the bed and pulled out a pair of jeans and three shirts.

  “Is...is this all?” Matt said.

  “Mom usually washed my jeans at night.” His cheeks burned. His underwear, too. “My socks and uh, you know...they’re on the stove in bleach. That’s what you smelled when you came through the door.”

  His uncle looked like he wanted to cry. Noah narrowed his eyes and lifted his chin. “This place is okay, and we got each other. That’s all that matters.”

  Miss Allie hugged him. “You’re right, Noah. I’ll go get your socks and other things.”

  “No! That’s my job.” He ran past them to the kitchen and grabbed the long fork he always used to dip his clothes out.

  Matt followed him. “Let me pour the water out,” he said, and carried the pot to the sink. “Do you have a plastic bag to put these in?”

  Noah glanced around the kitchen. Did his uncle see any food here? Where would he get a plastic bag? Boy, kittens weren’t the only thing he was clueless about.

  “I should have one in my car,” Miss Allie said. “I’ll take care of this, and you two find some clothes for Mariah.”

  Noah led the way to his mother’s bedroom.

  “She doesn’t have a bed?” Matt asked.

  Noah straightened the wrinkled sheets on the mattress that was on the floor. “She said it was easier to move this way.”

  “I see. Have you two been he
re long?”

  Noah stuck his tongue in his cheek, trying to remember when they’d moved into this place. “Before school started.”

  His uncle’s face got all red.

  “It’s nicer than where we lived before.”

  Matt cleared his throat then looked around the room. “I see. Does your mom have any clothes we can take to the hospital?”

  “If she does, it’ll be there.” Noah pointed toward the chest his mom had found at the city dump. “She always just wears jeans.”

  Matt started going through the drawers, his face getting redder all the time. Then he frowned. “What’s this?” he asked and held up the pawn ticket the man had given his mom.

  “Mom sold something to pay last month’s rent.”

  “What’d she have that’d bring three hundred dollars?”

  Noah pinched his brows together. His teeth had found the ridge inside his mouth, and he chewed on it. His mom did the best she could.

  “Noah? Do you know?”

  “Same thing she always pawns. A necklace.”

  His uncle turned so white, Noah thought he was gonna faint.

  “Pearls?” It was barely a whisper.

  Noah nodded. “She always got them back before.”

  Uncle Matt stared at the ticket. “Do you know where this place is?”

  Again he nodded.

  “What do you say we go get your mom’s necklace?”

  * * *

  NOAH’S SHOE DUG at a hole in the carpet. “What about this month?”

  This month? Matt frowned. “What about it?”

  “The rent. It’s due. If we don’t pay it, Mr. Wilson’s gonna put our stuff on the road. He said so.”

  “How much are we talking about? Three hundred, like you said?”

  Noah nodded, and he stared at the floor.

  Matt was glad his barely whispered expletive hadn’t made it to Noah’s ears. Like Noah, he’d ached to help his mother pay the rent and keep food on the table. He cleared his throat. “And where do we find this Mr. Wilson?”

  As a businessman, Matt understood a landlord couldn’t let a nonpaying renter stay indefinitely, but to put them out on the first day they were late?