Indivisible (24 page)

Reba’s eyes widened. “Why would I think anything else?”

Tia’s breath made a slow escape. “Mom thinks so too?”

“We don’t talk about you.”

She was truly dead to them.

“So all this time …” Jonah had been right. They neither knew nor cared what she’d sacrificed.

Reba’s voice softened. “I’m sorry, Tia.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

Reba stood up. “I suggested Mom ask you to watch the store.”

Tia stared. She’d been certain it was her mother’s ultimate punishment. But Reba knew how she’d wanted to break free. As much as she couldn’t bear to leave Redford now, she’d yearned for a fresh start back then, a place where she’d stand or fall on her own merit. To be loved and accepted as she was.

Reba spread her hands. “I thought—”

Footsteps approached, and Mark, lean and blond, appeared with a fussy baby sucking his fist. Mark smiled at her without recognition. “Sorry to interrupt, but he’s ready to eat.”

Reba turned. “You remember Tia, Mark?”

A jolt of recognition. “Oh. Wow. Yeah, of course.”

“I’ll let you go.” Tia turned for the door. “Mom lives three blocks away?”

“Yes, but—” Robbie’s fussing intensified, and Reba took him from her husband. “She’ll be here any—”

The door opened, and Tia faced her mother.

“Good Lord.” Stella actually pressed her hand to her breast.

For a horrible moment, Tia almost laughed. She could hardly have been more poorly received by them all if she’d arrived on cloven hooves.

“What on earth are you doing here?”

“Don’t worry, I’m not staying. I wanted to say you’ll need to find someone else to run the store. I’m not a shop girl anymore.”

Her mother let the screen close behind her. “What are you?”

“A counselor.”

Stella expelled her breath. “What could you possibly know that would help someone?”

Tia looked away, deflecting the pain. “I learned a little getting my degrees.”

“Degrees?”

“Believe it or not.” Her mother could not argue her academics. How she must have leaped at the chance to make her brighter daughter a shopkeeper. Reba’s request.

Stella’s brows rose and fell. “If I’m selling the store, I’ll be selling the house as well.”

Tia’s heart sank. The mortgage payments she’d made for her parents these nine years were far below the escalated prices she’d find now. And with the house in their name, she had established no credit of her own. Even if Piper moved with her, what could they afford? “Would you like me to list it?”

“Your father will handle it.”

Robbie started to wail.

“I’m sorry. I need to feed him.” Reba gave her a rueful look.

“Go take care of the baby,” Stella said. “I’ll take care of this.”

Her tone set Tia’s teeth on edge, and for the first time she did not envy her sister. “There’s nothing to take care of. I just wanted you to know.” Tia moved toward the door like an animal scenting freedom. She had hoped for at least a glimpse of her father, but it wouldn’t make any difference. He marched to Mother’s drum.

She had already checked out of the motel. Now there was nothing between her and the road—a road to upheaval. She had not realized how dependent she’d been, how even from a distance with no real contact, she’d still been controlled like a marionette on their strings. Never again. She had broken down the cage and she—would—fly.

Twenty-Three

If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.

—MOTHER TERESA

A
s the morning rush passed, Piper cleaned out the case in preparation for the lunch offerings in the oven. Hopefully, since Tia hadn’t called, the visit was going well. Thinking about a happy reunion made her fish her phone from her pocket. She speed-dialed and said, “Hi, Mom.”

“Piper!” She then hollered to the side, “Reg, Archie. It’s Piper. I’m putting you on speaker, honey. How are you? Where are you?”

“Redford, Colorado. I’m a baker.”

“A baker! How nice.”

She could hear the smile, but her mother had no clue how nice it was. “At first I had to make only the same old things, but now Sarge—he owns the bakery—lets me run a daily special, so I get to try out all kinds of things.”

“Well, isn’t that just great. Did you hear that? Daddy wants to know when you’re coming home.”

“Where’s home?” She heard a room full of laughter.

“We’re in Dallas.”

“I’m kind of settled in here. I’ve made some friends, and I really like my job.”

“You just always were a curious kitten. You know we’d have you in the business.”

“If I didn’t throw up?”

Again the laughter. Piper ached. One day they could all be laughing behind bars.

Her mother’s tone sobered. “Are you doing all right? Do you need any money?”

“I’m earning enough.”

“We’re pretty flush right now. Uncle Archie—”

“Don’t tell me, Mom. I just wanted to say I love you. I love you all.” And she wished, how she wished they were not who they were. “Bye now. Be careful, okay?”

She wanted to say stop it, stop it all.

“Good-bye, sweetheart,” her dad called. The others chimed in.

“You just let us know if there’s anything you need,” her mother said.

“Bye, Mom.”

The ache passed when Miles came in and stood before the counter. She looked up into his goofy face. “Did you leave me those candles?”

He turned and stared at the board. “You made lemon curd tarts today.”

“You liked them best when we baked.”

“They were tied for first with the oat nut muffins with cranberry glaze.”

“I’ll bake those tomorrow.”

A smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Did you like them?”

“I like how nutty we made them, and the golden raisins did go well with the cranberry.”

“The candles. Did you like the candles?”

“I like them very much, Miles. I put them in my room, on my dresser. Tia lent me candle holders.”

“They smell nicer than other candles, but they burn faster. Beeswax is softer than paraffin. It melts at a lower temperature. You have to tell me when they’re gone.”

“Okay, I’ll tell you.”

He looked at her. She looked back.

“Do you want a lemon tart?”

“I want to not be what I am.”

She could almost feel her heart swelling and breaking inside her. “Have you tried?”

“Phobias don’t just go away.”

“Not by themselves. But maybe it’s like baking. You have to start somewhere.”

His larynx rose and fell. “I’ll have a lemon tart.”

She slipped on a glove, grabbed a tissue, and handed one over. “You know what I like? You’re a compulsive truth teller. Like me.”

“You’re beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“Everyone wants to be with you. I see how they look at you. That guy who sells cars looks at you like you’re a juicy steak he wants to gobble up.”

Piper laughed. “Doesn’t he just.”

“He doesn’t tell the truth.”

“How do you know?”

“I can tell.”

“Miles. There might be things you can do to get over it. Tia’s a therapist. Maybe she could help.”

He lowered his chin and shook his head. “I’ve tried.”

“Some of the things I’ve tried have not turned out. But I keep trying.”

“It’s not the same to make a stringy goat-cheese roll. That doesn’t hurt people.”

“Unless they have to eat it.”

He didn’t laugh, just sighed.

“All I know is the dough has to rise,” she said. “If you bake it before it’s ready, it won’t turn out. But if you wait too long, the holes get too big.”

He gave her a slow blink, then went to a table with his tart—just as the police chief came in. Miles could hardly bolt right in front of him, but he didn’t even try.

Jonah slid him a glance, then came to the counter, looking even more ragged than yesterday.

“Are you all right? It seemed like you needed to talk last night.”

He paused, then shrugged. “My mother had a heart attack.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!”

“It could have been worse. They’ve cleaned things up now.”

“Tia will wish she’d been there.”

“Don’t bring it up, okay?”

“Why not?”

“Please. She’s dealing with things her own way.”

And maybe that was the problem in a nutshell. “Can I get you something?”

“Bear claw. Coffee. To go.”

Jonah carried his bag to the table where Miles sat.

Miles slumped like an old stuffed bear. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“There’s still the matter of restitution.”

Miles looked up at him, then to where she watched, then back. “You’re not taking me to jail?”

Jonah stared at him. “Take care of it yourself, and we won’t have to talk again.”

A timer rang, and Piper hurried to the kitchen. When she came back, neither man was there. Tucked beside the register, she found an envelope with Tia’s name. Inside, ten one-hundred-dollar bills.

Four more hours, Tia estimated, and she would be home. They hadn’t discussed details, but she supposed she could live in the house until it sold. She told them she’d be counseling, but she would need to fulfill the licensing requirements, complete an internship of supervised experience, pass the NCE, and of course find a place to work—or start her own practice.

Her hands clenched the wheel. Even if she had a doctorate—an MD in brain surgery—her mother still would have said,
“What could you possibly know that would help someone?”

At first she had taken courses to keep from losing her mind, then to understand her mind and the minds of others. But that wasn’t enough. Faith had found a place, and with it the Hopeline and all the people she’d listened to and prayed with.

What did she know? That it didn’t matter what she knew. God put a spark inside every person and gave her the desire and insight to help them ignite it. If all she did was keep one spark from guttering, then that was enough.

God!
The heart cry came without words. She didn’t care about a career, about letters behind her name. She wanted to help people break free of the cages of condemnation, abuse, and fear. To heal their wings and watch them fly. That was the stream of living water from which she’d drink.

She almost laughed out loud when her cell phone played the tone for a forwarded Hopeline call. At some point she’d really need to earn a wage, but right now, she drew a breath and answered. “Hopeline.”

“You said talking helps.”

She hadn’t recognized the number, but she knew the voice. “It certainly can.”

“I want to make an appointment.”

“You don’t need an appointment. I’m listening now.”

“It would be better in person.”

“This is the Hopeline number, Miles. It’s a prayer line.

“Piper said you’re a therapist.”

“I have a counseling degree, but I’m not licensed to practice yet.”

“I don’t care about that.”

“But I don’t have an office or …”

“I’ll come to the store. To the candle store.”

She stared at the great hulking shoulders of the mountains drawing nearer. “I’ll meet you there tomorrow, and we can talk about it. Nine o’clock?”

“The store doesn’t open until ten.”

“That will give us an hour before I have customers.”

“Piper liked the candles.”

Tia smiled. “She liked them very much.”

“You’re back!” Eager to hear it all, Piper rushed to Tia and took the overnight tote from her shoulder. “I can’t tell if you’re happy or sad.” She followed Tia up the stairs to unpack.

“Both I guess. Mostly relieved. A little scared.”

“You?” Piper heaved the tote onto the bed.

“I told my mother I was through watching the store.”

“Wow. How’d that work out?”

“She didn’t seem to care.” Tia unzipped the bag. “But when she sells the store, she’s selling the house too. That’s the part that affects you. I don’t know how long we’ll have here.”

“I thought it was your house.”

“I’ve been making the mortgage payments and renting out the room, but my parents hold the title. They’ll make a killing selling it, the way values have escalated, but I won’t see a dime.”

“What will you do?” She removed Tia’s hairbrush, toothbrush, and toothpaste.

“I was hoping we could find something together.”

Her heart rushed. “I hope so too.”

“But honestly? I won’t have any income to speak of for a while.”

“What about counseling?”

“I have to get licensed. Then I’m starting from scratch, building a client base.”

“Miles wants help.” Piper stashed the items in the bathroom.

“I talked to him. We’re meeting tomorrow to discuss a strategy. If he’ll agree to work with me under Carolyn’s supervision, it would be a start.”

“Do you think he will?”

“He seems motivated.” Tia formed a sly smile. “Any guesses why?”

Piper flounced on the bed. “Can you help him?” It surprised her how much she hoped so.

“Phobias can be symptoms of psychosis or trauma. If it’s the first, then no. But therapy can be effective for the other.”

Piper leaned one ankle against the opposite knee. “He’s goofy, but … he couldn’t ever swindle someone.”

Tia’s eyes softened. “I just hope you’re not trying to rescue him to compensate for your family.”

“Gosh.” She stared up at Tia. “You mean all the people they’ve taken unfair advantage of?”

“Something like that.”

She didn’t dismiss the possibility. “Miles is sweet and funny and wants to dump his junk. I just hope he can.”

Tia put the last of her clothes into the laundry hamper and zipped the empty bag.

“So … how did the rest of it go? Was Reba glad to see you?”

“Maybe a little. We didn’t have much time. She has a new baby—which I didn’t know.”

Losers. Creeps. Dolts.

“Anyway, I apologized. Again. Then my mother arrived and showed me the street.”

Piper stared into her face. “What is wrong with those people?”

Smiling through the tears, Tia sat down beside her on the bed. “I’d say I committed the unpardonable sin, but they probably think my sin was being born.”

“Well, I’m sure glad you were.” Piper wrapped her arms around Tia.

Tia hugged her back. “I wish my decision wouldn’t mess things up for you.”

“We’re not there yet.”

She nodded. “I have some savings and the merchandise in the store. Miles says a single candle can keep a person from freezing to death.”

“Miles!” Piper jumped up and snatched the envelope from the dresser.

Tia took it, puzzled.

“For damages.”

She frowned. “I didn’t ask—”

“Jonah did.”

Tia fingered the bills. “This is a thousand dollars.”

“I know.”

“It’s way too much. Jonah must have put the fear of a billion germs in him.”

“He wasn’t in any condition to put fear in anyone.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well … I sort of agreed I wouldn’t tell you, but Jonah came looking for you last night.”

Tia searched her face. “Why?”

“His mom had a heart attack. I think she’s doing all right, but he looked awful. I even prayed, but you know I might have messed it up.”

She said, “You can’t mess up a prayer, goof,” but she was obviously distressed. “He came here, then asked you not to tell me?”

“He thought you were kissing up to your family and didn’t want to interfere.”

Tia closed her eyes. “This is so messed up.” She got up and paced. “I need to call him.”

Piper’s heart rushed. “I’ll be downstairs.”

“You don’t have to—”