Ordinary is Perfect Page 2

  Catherine turned to step into her short barn boots resting in the muck tray just inside the door, but before she could, her cell phone began to ring, and she ran for the bedroom instead. Nerves still drawn taut from her flashback, she swore. “Damn it. Who in blue blazes is calling this early?” Sliding to a stop in her wool socks, Catherine snatched her phone on the third ring.

  “Yeah?”

  “Cat. You gotta…something’s wrong with Mama. She fell down…I can’t get her to talk.” Gabriella’s words were choked and desperate. “I don’t know what to do. You gotta come.”

  “I’m on my way, Gabe. Did you call 911?” Catherine hurried back to the door, slipped on her boots while she talked, then grabbed her truck keys. Unlike Elvis, she wasn’t going to traipse through dark fields and woods.

  “They’re here. Elvis is barking at ’em.”

  Catherine climbed into her Ford pickup and slapped the phone onto its magnetic dock to free her hands, changing it to speaker. “Go get Elvis and show them where your mom is so they can help her.” The truck bounced and swayed as she raced down the long packed-clay drive without regard to the potholes the cold and snowy winter had left.

  “Don’t hang up.”

  Catherine clenched her jaw against the panic in Gabriella’s voice, the same fear she’d heard in the boy soldiers’ dying pleas for her to stay with them while they took their last breaths. “I won’t, Gabe. I’ll listen while you talk to them.”

  She slammed to a stop and jumped out to open the gate exiting her property, drove through it, then jumped out again to close it. Cursing her procrastination about installing an automatic gate wouldn’t help now. She stomped on the accelerator. All she could hear was muffled conversation on Gabe’s end, but she could see the flash of the ambulance lights reflecting like strobes off the trees across the road from Becki and Gabe’s house.

  “No, no. I won’t.” Gabe’s frantic shouts rang out over the phone’s speaker.

  Catherine whipped her truck into Becki’s drive and slid to a stop next to the ambulance. The front door stood open, and Elvis ran out to meet her, still barking furiously. Catherine’s feet had barely touched the porch when he dashed back inside, and she followed.

  Elvis stopped at the mouth of the hallway that led to the bedrooms, loud banging now punctuating his barks. Gabe was trying to kick in the closed door of her mother’s bedroom. She put her hand on his head. “Elvis, quiet.” A few long strides and she wrapped her arms around Gabe. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

  “They won’t let me in there with Mama.” Gabriella struggled out of Catherine’s embrace, kicked the door again, and yelled. “She’s MY mother.”

  Catherine wrapped her arms around Gabe again, but this time she lifted the girl off her feet to hold her back. “Don’t do that. You’re going to hurt your foot.” She could hear the urgent exchange between two paramedics and the information they were transmitting to the hospital as they went through resuscitation protocol. Her heart sank. Oh, Becki. Catherine would rather return to the desert than face what was surely coming. But she’d made a promise.

  ***

  “You promised.” Jay scowled at Autumn over his iced blonde cappuccino. “I already told Evan you’d do it.”

  His indignation broadcast across the coffee shop, and she shot him a brief, but stern, glare. God. Men could be so loud. “That was before I picked up this new client. Since his online orders have tripled each of the three weeks I’ve been working his accounts, he’s sent me four referrals who want the same package. Evan’s your boyfriend. I’m sure you can think of a way to make it up to him.” Autumn opened an email and smiled. Her thumbnails clicked against the screen of her phone as she confirmed an appointment with this fifth referral and hit Send with a flourish. “I just don’t have time to do pro bono marketing for this summer’s Pride festival and parade. Paying clients are filling up my calendar. At this rate, I’ll have enough work to hire extra help—a finance person or graphic artist. Even a secretary would help. Holy crap. I need to rent real office space.” Her eyes never left the screen as she talked because she was busy turning down a sixth request for her services. That guy was notorious for requesting a lot of work but never paying up.

  “This is a networking opportunity, Autumn. A lot of connected people are involved in making this series of events happen. People who own businesses. People you should get to know.”

  “Not really, Jay. Most are college students or other nonprofit people who also need free help.” Autumn finally looked up after a long silence met her reply and was surprised by the disappointment in Jay’s clear blue eyes. His expression was always easy to read. “What? You know I’m right. The people with influence and deep pockets will be at the annual HRC gala next month. We will definitely be at that event, networking our butts off. Those are the people who’ll make us a success.”

  Jay sighed and dropped his gaze to his cappuccino, swirling the ice around with his straw. The silence between them stretched from one minute to five, then ten. He stirred and looked everywhere but at her while she answered several more emails and texts. Finally, he broke the silence. “You know I love you, Autumn.”

  She looked up from her phone. He’d better not be warming up to retell his “you sound like my mother explaining why I had to play tennis at the country club instead of at the park with my friends” story.

  “I can’t even put into words how grateful I’ll always be for what you’ve taught me these past two years. Seeing how you built this company from the beginning has been more valuable than anything I’ve learned in college.”

  This conversation was taking a weird turn. Her brain hit rewind. No, no. no. “When I was mumbling about hiring extra help, I didn’t mean I was changing our game plan. I meant it when I said I’d make you an associate the minute you graduate. That’s only a few months away. I’ll still need a full associate who can do everything I do.”

  He sucked in a breath and straightened his shoulders, then raised his eyes to meet hers. “That’s what I’m trying to say, hon. We’re coming up to our proverbial fork in the road. I understand why money is your measure of your success. Really, I do. But I feel a different calling.”

  What? She blinked at him. Surely she’d heard wrong. “You…you’re going into the ministry?”

  His hands flew to his mouth, and his eyes widened. They stared at each other for what seemed like…well, the lifespan of a viral tweet. Then Jay let out a cough that rolled into a hysterical cackle and grew in volume until he was gripping his sides. Before Autumn realized it, she was laughing, too, and they were both wiping tears and struggling not to fall from their chairs. People at other tables stared. Finally, they recovered their composure.

  “I so wish I’d thought to video your face when you asked that,” Jay said, wiping his eyes again. “Evan would piss himself laughing.” He took a big swallow of his cappuccino, his expression then turning serious. “I want to work for a nonprofit.” He held up his hands to forestall any protest when she opened her mouth to speak. “I know I’ll never have a fat bank account working in that field, but there are other ways to measure wealth. And, yes, I did grow up in a house with two parents, a stay-at-home mom, big house in the suburbs, and everything. But when I came out to my parents, I became an outcast in that perfect home. I want to help those kids. I also want to help other kids—ones who age out of foster care and have no idea how to set goals, maintain a household budget, get student loans, and do other things to find their success in life.”

  Autumn sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, that certainly makes me sound like Scrooge counting his money while you go out and save all the Tiny Tims of the world.”

  Jay half stood to pull her crossed arms apart and take both her hands in his. “You are not a Scrooge.” His voice was low, his eyes soft. “You just need to feel financially stable, secure enough that you’ll never be that girl who everybody laughed at for wearing a sweater the most popular girl at school had dona
ted to the thrift shop.”

  Her face heated at the memory.

  Although she’d started her business as she was finishing her master’s thesis at Emory several years ago, and he was just now finishing the last semester of his undergraduate degree, they were the same age. Autumn was an overachiever, while Jay had lost a year hiding in New York City from his conservative upper-middle-class family until he turned eighteen.

  She’d told Jay about the sweater incident—her high school low point—after he’d confessed that he’d tricked a few times in New York when he was desperate for money. They were different but basically the same. They both carried baggage from their childhoods. That bond made this upcoming separation feel like a betrayal.

  “So, you’re still going to leave me high and dry? Right when I’m swamped with new clients?”

  He shook his head but didn’t release her hands. “Absolutely not. I’ll stay to help you find and train a suitable replacement. In fact, I have a lead on somebody super fantastic, but I don’t want to share yet because it’s just a tip. She’s in an uncomfortable job situation and might be looking to relocate to Atlanta.”

  Autumn frowned. “That sounds like dyke drama. I don’t want to hire someone who’s running from a crazy ex-girlfriend.”

  “I promise that’s not it. Evan’s family has been friends with hers for generations. He said it’s a disagreement on how to run the family business, and Rachel is ready to sell her shares and take her skills elsewhere.”

  Okay. She’d prepared for this eventuality. She had a budget plan and money tucked away, all waiting for this big moment when she stepped up from a home enterprise to a real office and expansion of her business.

  Yes, sir. Autumn always had a plan. Her parents had never planned anything. “Let’s just see where the wind blows us,” her dad always said. But once her parents had rolled and shared that after-breakfast marijuana joint, the wind had never seemed to blow them much past the front porch. Autumn vowed that would never happen to her. No sir.

  She slung her purse over her shoulder and gathered the trash from her breakfast, never taking her eyes from her phone. It vibrated with a call coming in on her business line, but she let it go to voice mail for now. “What classes do you have today?”

  He rose and gathered his trash, took hers, and threw it all in the receptacle by the door as they headed down the sidewalk to the Marta station. “This is my short day. I have exercise class, then independent project, which simply means the class credit I’ll get for working with you if you ever fill out the paperwork.”

  “On my to-do list.” She dug in her bag for her Marta pass, but Jay reached around her, pulled it from her back pocket, and handed it to her. She frowned. “Exercise class? You can go to the Y another time.”

  “Okay, so Emory calls it physical education. Doesn’t matter what you call it. I hate it. That’s why I put it off until my last year. If I don’t go, I won’t pass, and I won’t graduate at the end of the semester.”

  “Come on, then.” Autumn joined the crowd boarding the train that had stopped and spit out a gob of passengers. “You go get physical, then come right back so we can get to work.”

  Jay turned to her, putting his hands together in a prayerful gesture and furrowing his brow in his version of pleading puppy eyes.

  She gave him a dismissive wave, then smiled. “Yes. You can clean up at my place so you don’t have to shower with a bunch of straight guys who think it’s fun to try to pee on each other’s feet.”

  He pretended to shiver in revulsion.

  She grabbed his shoulders and turned serious for a moment. “Don’t stop for food, and don’t stop for coffee. Come straight to my place. This is AA Swan Inc.’s chance to break out of the pack, Jay. Over the next couple of weeks, nothing will be more important than work.”

  Chapter Two

  Gabe went limp and began to cry as Catherine carried her out to the living room and sat on the worn, comfortable sofa. She cradled the lanky girl in her lap, her head against her shoulder like she was a small child. Elvis hopped up next to them to lay his furry head in Gabe’s lap. She needed to distract Gabe while the medics worked. “Can you tell me what happened?” She pulled a soft, worn bandana from her jacket pocket and pressed it into Gabe’s hands. It likely had a bit of machinery grease and sweat on it, but she knew Gabe, who was often Catherine’s shadow around the farm, wouldn’t notice.

  “I woke up and had to pee. But when I was walking to the bathroom, Mama’s door was open, and I saw her on the floor.” Gabe, her hazel eyes red and watery, pulled back to look up at Catherine. “Her eyes were open, but it was like she didn’t see me. I called 9-1-1, like she always said to do in an emergency, and then I called you.” Gabe clutched at Catherine’s jacket. “She’s going to be all right, isn’t she? She has to, Cat.” Her face contorted, and her slender chest heaved in a choked sob. “She can’t leave me. I don’t have anybody else.”

  Catherine hugged Gabe to her and held on tight. “You listen to me, kiddo. You’ve got me and Elvis. We’re here with you, aren’t we?”

  Gabe picked at a healing scrape on her knee, just below the hem of the soft cotton gym shorts she paired with a baggy T-shirt to serve as pajamas. “Yeah, but—” Elvis licked Gabe’s hand, then the scrape she was worrying. Gabe’s lips pressed into a thin line, and her eyes again filled with tears. Her throat worked as her fingers dug into his unruly fur, and he stopped his ministrations to half crawl into her lap. When Gabe began to comb her fingers through his fur, Catherine had to fight back her own tears. How many nights had Elvis offered her the same comfort when relentless nightmares had nearly driven her to thoughts of suicide?

  Catherine pressed her cheek to Gabe’s short black curls and stroked her back. “I know, kiddo. You love us, but we’re not your mama. I’d be worried if you didn’t feel that way.”

  “I’m scared, Cat.” Gabe’s voice was small.

  “Me, too, Gabe. That’s why we have to stick together and stay close to Elvis. He’s brave enough for both of us.”

  Tires sounded on the gravel drive out front at the same time Elvis lifted his head and stared at the hallway entrance. Gabe’s head swung around to follow the dog’s gaze, but Catherine tightened her grip. She didn’t hear a gurney racing down the hall—not a good sign—so she wasn’t letting Gabe bolt back there until she knew the lay of the land.

  Footsteps shuffled across the porch, and two men let themselves in the front door. Sheriff Ed Cofy took off his hat.

  “Down,” she said to Elvis, shooing him off the sofa before rising and helping Gabe stand next to her. She acknowledged them with a nod. “Ed. Doc Simmons.”

  Ted Simmons was an emergency doctor. He was also the county coroner. She figured the two had let themselves in because the guys in the bedroom with Becki had summoned him. Ted nodded but didn’t speak before heading down the hallway. Gabe tensed, her head swiveling between the two men. Catherine circled an arm around her shoulders to hug Gabe close against her side. Elvis pressed against Gabe’s other side, and she buried her hand in his fur.

  “Hey, Cat.” Sheriff Ed Cofy’s pleasant baritone seemed to soften the tension a small bit. A fellow soldier, Ed had become a friend and mentor to Catherine after she began to report to the nearby U.S. Army Reserve unit to finish out her retirement. His help tonight, however, was for Gabe, not Catherine. “Well, Miss Gabriella Swan. You’re growing up into something, that’s for sure. You’re what? Ten now?”

  Gabe glanced at the hallway, not fooled by his effort at distraction. Regardless, her mother had raised her to be polite to adults. “Eleven. I’ll be twelve in June.”

  He nodded and smiled. “That’s right. I should know that since I was the one who drove your mom, lights and sirens blasting, to the hospital to have you.”

  Gabe didn’t return his smile. Catherine knew she’d heard the story many times.

  He paused, his expression apologetic as they held Gabe’s unreadable one for a few long seconds. “Are you ok
ay, Gabe?”

  She lowered her eyes. “I don’t know.”

  Catherine nearly jumped out of her skin, and Gabe flinched at the sound of Doc Simmons clearing his throat. They all looked to the hallway where he paused before walking into the room. “Let’s sit down to talk about what’s happened tonight,” he said.

  No, no, no. Catherine was suddenly a woman standing at the door staring at two soldiers in dress uniforms. One soldier was talking. “Ms. Daye, the secretary of the army has asked that I express his deep regret to inform you that your neighbor, Becki Swan, has died of…”

  Gentle but firm pressure on her shoulder broke her paralysis, and Ed’s steady brown eyes grounded her in the present. She sat on the sofa and pulled Gabe down beside her. Elvis hopped up to join them and pressed shoulder to shoulder with Gabe. They all looked at Doc Simmons expectantly.

  “Gabriella, I’m so very sorry to tell you this, but your mother had an…well, her brain started bleeding and was damaged too much to fix. When the brain stops working, other parts do, too.”

  Gabe frowned and her expression darkened. Although Gabe was a child, she had an unusually high IQ, and underestimating her intelligence was one of her hot buttons. So Catherine stepped in.

  “Gabe. You know the headaches and vision problems your mama’s been having? She found out they were symptoms caused by a brain tumor. Your mom was going to tell you as soon as her doctor got the final tests back and set a surgery date—tomorrow or the next day. But it sounds like the tumor might have caused an aneurysm that burst and bled into her brain.”

  Becki had just told her about the diagnosis yesterday, insisting that she had time to make some arrangements before the surgery. Catherine’s gut had told her something different…like at the village. It was no wonder she’d been drawn back to the desert, to that last patrol. It’d been nearly two years since she’d had a flashback that detailed, that real.