Worth the Risk Read online

  Timmy whined, “It’s too cold!”

  Momma gave him a look that said she was about to tan his hide. “You put that ice to your lip right now.” Timmy frowned and quickly did as he was told.

  “Jackson, looks like you saved the day,” she said.

  Jackson smiled. “Not really. I didn’t do anything but give him my shirt.”

  “Well, you’re very kind. Your shirt is a mess though, so I’ll wash it for you.”

  “That’s all right, ma’am. I told Timmy he could have it, since he likes the Incredible Hulk.”

  “Yeah, Momma. It’s mine,” Timmy whined, quickly putting the peas against his lip.

  “Are you sure?” Momma asked. “I wouldn’t want to upset your mother.”

  Jackson shrugged. “It’s just an old play shirt. She won’t care anyway.”

  “Well, all right then. I’ll get you another one to put on.”

  When Momma left to get Jackson a shirt, his eyes softened. “Your mom’s a nice lady.”

  “Thanks,” I replied.

  He was right. I did have a nice mom. She was just about the best person I knew. She was a great cook, and she loved to care for others more than anything.

  When she returned with a shirt, Jackson had to pry Timmy’s hands from around his neck so he could put it on. Whether he meant to or not, Jackson had made himself a buddy.

  “Momma, can Jackson stay for supper?” I asked.

  “Yeah!” Timmy punched the air with his fist, dropping the ice pack.

  “I certainly don’t mind, but I’m sure he’ll have to ask his mother first.” Momma bent down to pick up the frozen peas. “Keep this on your lip, like I said. And loosen your hold on Jackson before you strangle him to death.”

  I grinned wide at Jackson. “Wanna ask your mom if you can stay for supper?”

  “No. I–I mean, yes,” Jackson stuttered. “I‘d like to stay. But I can’t ask my momma. She’s at work. She won’t care though.”

  “Great!” I couldn’t hide my enthusiasm. “So, where does your momma work?”

  “At that big nursing home in town.”

  “Willow Creek Manor?” Momma asked.

  “Yes, ma’am. She won’t be home till around midnight.”

  Momma’s brow furrowed. “That’s very late, Jackson. Will your father be home?”

  “No, ma’am.” Jackson pressed his lips together. “He left us again.”

  “Oh?” Momma’s eyes widened.

  I looked at Momma in shock, then turned back to Jackson. “So nobody’s at your house?”

  “My granny comes over when Momma’s at work. Right now, she’s got the three to eleven shift.”

  “Well, supper’s about ready. You’re welcome to eat with us anytime, Jackson.” Momma smiled at him, then winked at me before walking back to tend to the food on the stove. “Timmy, let Jackson breathe before he turns blue.”

  A few minutes later, Momma had the table set just as Daddy walked through the door. We all stared as he kissed her on the lips, then walked over to the table and pulled out his chair.

  “Hey, kiddos! Who’s our guest?” Daddy asked cheerfully.

  “His name is Jackson, Daddy. Allen Jackson Strickland,” I said as Momma began making everyone’s dinner plate. “His mom’s a nurse, and he’s eight like me. Oh! And he helped take care of Timmy today when he fell and busted his lip. See?” I pointed at Timmy’s lip, and Daddy’s eyes darted over to check out his face, but I didn’t slow down. “Jackson gave him his Incredible Hulk T-shirt too.”

  “How about that.” Daddy grinned, peering at Timmy’s lip. “I guess Jackson’s our hero today.” Daddy’s eyes took on a look of appreciation and concern as he studied Jackson’s face.

  Slightly bashful, Jackson shrugged again and smiled.

  Daddy gave a friendly chuckle. “You live around here?”

  “Yessir.” Jackson pointed over his shoulder. “In the yellow house down the gravel road.”

  “Oh, yeah. I know where you’re talking about. Y’all just moved in?”

  “Yessir. From Louisiana. My grandpa died last month, and my momma said we needed to move closer for my granny.”

  A frown pulled at Daddy’s lips. “I see.”

  Momma set Daddy’s plate in front of him and brushed her hand over his shoulder.

  “Thanks, honey.” His eyes followed her. “Looks amazing. Y’all ready to say grace?”

  We bowed our heads as Daddy gave thanks, then for several minutes, the only sounds were those of forks against plates and ice rattling in tea glasses.

  Daddy wiped his mouth and cleared his throat. “I know a lot of people around here, Jackson. What was your grandpa’s name?”

  “Jack Owens, sir.”

  “No kidding?” Daddy looked surprised and a bit upset.

  Jackson swallowed his food. “Yessir. I’m named after him.”

  “How about that! I used to work for Mr. Owens. At his service station.”

  “Really, Daddy?” I asked.

  “Yep. That was my first real job. I was seventeen.” Daddy smiled at me, and then his gaze shifted back to Jackson. “Back then, Mr. Owens owned a two-door, 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air Convertible. It was a beauty. He washed and waxed it till it shined like it was coated in baby oil.”

  I cringed. The thought of baby oil made my knees and elbows hurt. “What’s a Bel Air, Daddy?”

  “The most iconic American classic car there ever was. His was turquoise blue with a white top and white wall tires and wheel skirts. Finest ride in town.” Daddy shook his head. “Good ol’ Mr. Owens. I’m sorry to hear he died, Jackson. Was he sick?”

  “No, sir. He had a heart attack.” Jackson twisted his mouth around. “I was in the kitchen with my momma and my granny, and my dad ran in yelling for us to call an ambulance. He said my grandpa grabbed his chest and fell and hit his head on the corner of his worktable and wasn’t breathing.”

  “Oh, my goodness!” Momma covered her mouth with her hand. “That’s terrible!”

  “Yes, ma’am. We thought my granny was gonna have a heart attack too, the way she was hollering and crying. It was scary. Momma called for help, then we all ran out to the shop to see about Grandpa. He was on the floor, so Momma made me wait in the yard. By the time the ambulance came, my grandpa was already gone.”

  “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry.” Momma patted Jackson’s back.

  I had to wipe my eyes. That was the most awful story I had ever heard.

  “Thank you, Mrs. Sharp. But Grandpa’s in heaven now.” He sighed. “I went with my granny the other day to put flowers on his grave, and that’s what she told me. She said he was looking down on me and I could always talk to him and he would listen. She told me to think about the good times we had, so that’s what I’m doing, and I’m not that sad anymore.”

  “I’m sure that’s what your grandpa would want you to do,” Daddy said.

  “I think about us going fishing.” Jackson moved his food around on his plate with his fork. “That’s what I miss the most.”

  A smile tugged at Daddy’s lips. “Do you like to fish, Jackson?”

  “Yessir. It’s my favorite thing to do.”

  “That’s great.” Daddy’s eyes twinkled. “Mine too.”

  “Maybe you can go fishing with us sometime.” I flashed a smile at Jackson, relieved the conversation had moved to something else. I didn’t want to talk about death or going to a graveyard for another second. Death and everything about it creeped me out. Maybe I had seen too many scary movies—Momma didn’t know about that. Or maybe I heard too many stories about haunted houses, thanks to Freaky Franky Fletcher, the creep on my bus who liked to frighten all the girls. I hated him.

  “That sounds like a great idea.” Daddy winked at me. “Jackson, how about you ask your folks?”

  His face lit up. “Yessir!”

  My daddy liked to see kids thrilled about fishing. To him, there was a lot more to it than just catching fish. “Life lessons are in every cast,” h
e’d always say.

  “You two will be riding the bus together.” Daddy popped a toothpick in his mouth and leaned back in his chair. “Maybe you’ll be in the same class too.”

  “I hope so.” Jackson glanced at me and smiled. Then his eyes moved to the window. “Well, I better get going. I promised Granny I’d be home before dark.” He thanked Momma for the meal as he pushed in his chair, then he told my family goodbye.

  I slid out of my chair and followed him to the door. “I had fun today, Jackson.”

  “Me too,” he replied.

  “I’m sorry about your grandpa, but I’m glad you moved here.”

  His smile was soft. “Thanks. Me too.”

  I gave him a hug and whispered, “We’re gonna be best friends, Jackson.”

  His dirty face turned bright red. “I hope so,” he whispered back.

  Heading out to pick up his bicycle, he looked back twice. I was so excited to have a new friend, that I couldn’t stop smiling. When he got on his bike, he waved, and I watched him ride away. What a great day. Best friends for now, Allen Jackson Strickland, but just you wait. You’re gonna marry me someday!

  Chapter Two

  Carol Sharp

  Thursday, August 7, 1980 ~ Mood Swings or Batshit Crazy?

  I walked down the gravel road toward the yellow house. It’s been three years since the last time I strolled over to visit a neighbor. I don’t remember it ever being this hot, or this long of a walk. It was mid-morning, and the sun was already beating down, making it feel like I was hiking in the Sahara Desert. It had to be at least a hundred degrees out. And to make things worse, the dreadful gnats were already swarming.

  “I should’ve driven,” I grumbled and swatted the gnats from my eyes as I rounded the corner and approached the driveway of the Strickland’s residence. “Good thing I wrapped up this pound cake.”

  The house was built in the sixties, but other than a few cosmetic repairs, it still looked great. It needed a good pressure washing, and all the shutters and front columns needed a fresh coat of paint. But I could still see the lovely little home despite the neglect. It had sat empty for the past two years. The previous residents, our good friends, the Kilpatricks, were renters, and the husband was a pilot in the Air Force. After only three years, he received transfer orders, and they had to move. No one had lived in the house since then.

  I walked up the front porch steps, but when I got to the top, I froze. From inside the house I heard someone yelling. Uh-oh. Not a good time. I contemplated going back home, but the heat was dreadful. And fighting the damn gnats was even worse. So, I decided to wait. Surely it’s just some family drama. No biggie.

  I took a few more steps to be in the shade, then realized I was overhearing one side of what was clearly a personal conversation. As I moved closer to the front door like a snoop, I considered again whether I should leave and come back later. But the longer I listened, the harder it was for me to move.

  “What’s your excuse this time, Frank?”

  “You’re nothing but a liar!”

  “No! You said that before! Lies! All lies!”

  “It’s never gonna change, is it, Frank?”

  “That’s right! And I meant it!”

  “Well, you can stay there! And don’t bother coming back!”

  Then there was silence for about thirty seconds. Just when I was about to knock on the door, I heard someone crying. I assumed it might be Jackson’s mother, poor thing. I wanted to go comfort her but reminded myself that might not go over too well. Soon the crying stopped, so I counted to twenty, wiped my sweaty face, and knocked three times.

  “Who is it?” a woman’s voice called out.

  I licked my lips and straightened my posture. “It’s your neighbor, Carol Sharp.”

  Seconds later, the door opened, and a slender, attractive woman with shoulder-length blond hair stood smiling at me. Her cheeks were full and rosy, and her blue eyes were slightly puffy, but still held mascara and eye-liner. She was wearing navy-blue scrubs, white nursing shoes, and a thin, gold band on her ring finger.

  “Hello,” I said, offering her a warm smile in return. “I’m Carol Sharp, from across the road. Welcome to our neighborhood.”

  “Hi. Nice to meet you. Regina Strickland,” she said.

  “I just wanted to bring this by.” I handed her the pound cake.

  “Oh, my!” Her eyes widened.

  “Homemade. I hope you’ll like it.”

  “I’m sure I’ll love it.” She grinned. “Won’t you come in? It’s a hundred degrees out.”

  I waved my hand. “I wouldn’t want to impose. You look like you’re about to head to work.”

  “You’re not imposing.” She opened the door wider for me. “Come on in. I insist.”

  I felt the air conditioning seeping out the doorway, beckoning me to enter, and since I didn’t want to be rude, I caved. “All right,” I said, and stepped inside. As I followed her into the old familiar house, memories of the Kilpatricks came to mind. “The previous residents were good friends of ours. We’re excited to have neighbors again.”

  “Well, we’re excited to be here.” She set the cake on the kitchen table an pulled out a chair for me. “Make yourself at home,” she said. “Would you care for something to drink? Water, tea, coffee? How about a slice of pound cake?”

  “I’m good. Thank you.”

  She smiled and took a seat across from me. “Thanks for the cake. How thoughtful of you.”

  “You’re welcome.” I noticed her hands were shaking, and I wondered if I was making her nervous, or if it was a result of her phone call. I straightened in my chair and cleared my throat. “We had the pleasure of meeting Jackson yesterday.”

  Her smile shifted to something that looked more like a scowl. “I’m not surprised. He rides his bike all over the place.” She paused and took a deep breath as the scowl faded. “He told me he made some new friends.”

  I nodded. “That would be my two, Rebecca and Timmy.”

  “My mom said he didn’t come home until almost dark. I hope he wasn’t in the way.”

  “Not at all. The kids enjoyed his company.”

  “Well, if he starts to wear out his welcome, promise me you’ll send him home.” She pursed her lips. “I know it’s the last place he’d rather be, but sometimes it’s the best place for him.”

  I forced a smile. “I doubt that ever happens, but I know how moms worry. I’ll send him home if there’s ever a problem. You have my word.” I paused, studying her expression as she ran her shaky hands through her hair. “After talking with Jackson some, we realized my husband knows your parents.”

  Regina arched an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

  “Evidently, he worked at your dad’s gas station.”

  She eyed me carefully. “Who’s your husband?”

  “Bobby Sharp,” I said.

  Her lips parted and her eyes looked like saucers. “Huh,” she snorted. “What a small world.”

  For a brief moment, I could’ve sworn I saw a hint of jealousy flicker in her eyes. “It is. Do you remember Bobby?”

  “Faintly.” Regina lowered her gaze. “I remember dad was quite fond of him.”

  “Bobby spoke highly of your father too. We’re both very sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you. I suppose Jackson told you he had a heart attack.”

  “He did.” I felt a heaviness in my chest. “A heartbreaking story.”

  “Yeah.” She sighed, but her eyes were void of emotion. “So, how long have you and Bobby been married?” The tone of her voice made it seem like an accusation more than a question.

  “Ten years,” I answered. “How about you?”

  She pressed her lips flat and grunted. “Twelve. Frank and I were married in ’68.”

  Wait. Frank was the person on the phone. A host of thoughts were spinning around in my mind. I took a breath and tried my best to act natural, without looking like I was about to pass a kidney stone. Unfortunately, no one’s ev
er accused me of having a great poker face.

  “That’s awesome, Regina.”

  “Hardly.” She frowned. “My marriage isn’t like most.”

  “Every marriage is different, but they’re all complicated.”

  She chuckled sarcastically. “That’s a nice way to put it.”

  “I’m sure you’re both under a lot of stress right now. With the move, and your father dying—”

  “Actually, that’s not the problem at all,” she was quick to say. “My husband’s just a big asshole. Fortunately, he’s not home very much.”

  I felt my heart stutter. I was quiet for a minute because she had rendered me speechless. I wet my lips and cleared my throat. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “What?” She twisted her mouth. “That he’s an asshole, or that he isn’t home much?”

  I raised compassionate eyebrows and shrugged. “Both?”

  “I’m not looking for pity.”

  I pulled back. “I didn’t mean—”

  Her eyes hardened. “I know what you meant,” she snapped. “For now, it works. And it will continue to work until it doesn’t. And when it doesn’t…” Her voice trailed off as she dropped her gaze again. “Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  I watched in silence as she drew in a deep breath and pushed up from the table. She walked over to the sink, where she filled a glass with water and pulled a prescription bottle from her front pants pocket. After popping two pills into her mouth, she took a long drink, put the glass in the sink, and leaned against the counter with her arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes were glassy and fixed on a random spot on the floor.

  “Our situation isn’t ideal. We never wanted children in the first place,” she muttered. “But even after everything I did to keep from having kids, I still got stuck with one. I’ve tried my best for eight years to raise Jackson right and keep him safe. It’s just difficult sometimes. He’s so trusting and naïve.” She lifted her eyes and looked at me as if she had forgotten I was there. Her bottom lip trembled. “I’m sorry. You must think I’m a terrible mother.”