Courage by Kristen Proby

Chapter 1

~Natasha~

One month later…

“Carbon monoxide poisoning.”

I keep my back turned to the two busybodies gossiping in the produce section. As if the past month hasn’t been hard enough, I get this just about everywhere I go. Murmurs, whispers behind my back. Looks of pity. Words of sympathy.

Leaving the house has been pure torture to begin with, but adding this onto the stress of it makes me want to hide under the covers and never come out.

“So sad,” the other one, Misty, says. “They just fell asleep and never woke up.”

Just when I’m about to turn to the women and say, “Really? I’m right here,” my phone rings, grabbing my attention.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Tash, this is Hilda Smith at the school. I’m afraid I need to see you and Mr. Waters in my office as soon as you can get here.”

“Is something wrong? Is one of the twins hurt?”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that. We have a behavioral issue to discuss. I’d really prefer to talk to you and Sam together.”

I blow out a breath and stare at the basket full of groceries. “I can be there in about thirty minutes.”

“I’ll see you then.”

She hangs up, and I resign myself to not finishing today’s grocery run. Instead, I make my way to the checkout.

Once the groceries are paid for, I hurry home to put the perishables in the fridge, leaving the rest for later.

This isn’t the first time in the past month we’ve been called in for a meeting with the school. Both kids have had a tough time adjusting.

Hell, I’m having a tough time, and I’m over thirty.

Just as I pull into the parking lot, I see Sam parking his blue truck. He waits for me on the sidewalk.

“I always feel like I’m the one in trouble,” he says grimly as we walk toward the front door of the building.

It’s summer, so the kids aren’t in school yet. They start kindergarten in a few weeks, but Monica enrolled them in preschool all summer, and we thought it would be best if we tried to keep their schedules as close to normal as possible.

And, I can admit, I need the few hours during the day to get caught up on everything that I can’t see to when the two of them are underfoot.

And, yes, that makes me feel inadequate and horrible.

“If Kevin’s stealing again, I’ll kill him,” I mutter.

Sam doesn’t reply, just takes my hand in that patient, sturdy way he has that tells me everything will be okay.

“I’ll take them tonight,” he says.

“It’s not your night,” I remind him. “We’ll be okay.”

“Let’s find out what’s going on before you turn me down on the offer,” he suggests as we reach the office doorway. “Hi, Hilda.”

The older woman, who happened to teach me in middle school, glances up and smiles. “Hello, you two. Come on in.”

I have a feeling the warm welcome is only to butter us up for what’s about to happen.

“Don’t keep us in suspense,” I say immediately, sitting on the edge of the seat as if I’m ready to take off running at any second. “What happened?”

“It’s been a series of events today, I’m afraid,” she says. “Kelsey won’t talk.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Sam asks.

“She won’t speak. Won’t answer questions or even talk to her friends. She just shakes her head and looks at the floor or ground. Her teacher says this was not the case yesterday.”

“It wasn’t the case this morning, either,” I say and rub my fingers across my forehead. “What else?”

“Kevin peed on the playground during recess.”

Sam and I just stare at the woman. Finally, Sam laughs.

I hang my head in my hands.

“Listen, you two,” Hilda continues, “I know that it’s only been a month since the twins lost their parents, and that you both are doing the very best you can. I can’t even begin to imagine the grief and pain you’re all going through. But I have to be honest here. We just can’t have this behavior continue. It’s disruptive to the rest of the students. And, frankly, it’s difficult for the teachers to handle.”

“I get it.” I sigh and glance at Sam, who’s no longer laughing. “Can you please give us another chance? Just one more. It’s Friday. Let us take the weekend to talk to the kids and see if we can get some of this resolved so they’re not acting out at school. I know they enjoy it here. They talk about it all evening.”

Hilda sits back and watches us. I can see it written all over her face that she’d already made up her mind to kick them out.

But she sighs and nods. “Okay. One more chance. But if anything like this happens again, I’ll have no choice.”

“Understood,” Sam says. “Thank you for your patience, Hilda. We appreciate it. Are they ready for us to take them home?”

“Yes, they should be waiting just outside. Class was dismissed. Good luck.”

We stand to leave. When I see the kids silently sitting in their chairs, their blue eyes big and haunted, I want to break down and cry.

Instead, I offer them my hands.

“Come on. Let’s go home.”

We’re quiet as all four of us walk to my car. Once the twins are settled in their seats, I close the door and turn to Sam.

“I’m sure you had better plans, but are you interested in coming home with us?”

“I’ll be right behind you.”

“Thanks.”

Before it happened, the kids used to chat incessantly whenever I picked them up from school, which was a couple of times a week because of Monica’s and Rich’s busy work schedules. But over the past month, we’ve sat in so much silence, it almost feels like it screams.

I’ve barely put my car in park when Kevin unbuckles himself from his seat and hurries out of the car, running toward the house.

Kelsey doesn’t move at all.

“We’re home, sugar.”

She turns those haunted eyes to me. “Okay.”

“Let’s go have a snack and talk with Uncle Sam, okay?”

She nods and waits for me to help her out of her seat, even though she’s perfectly capable of doing it herself. But I don’t mind. Once she’s free of the belt, she wraps her little arms around my neck and gives me a big hug.

“Don’t die, okay?”

I turn my face to look at her in surprise.

“What?”

“Don’t die.”

“Oh, honey.” I kiss her little cheek and carry her out of the car. “I’m right here. Let’s go get that snack.”

She rests her head on my shoulder, and I walk toward the front porch where Sam and Kevin are waiting for us.

“We heard you two had a busy day today,” I begin after I unlock the door and everyone files into my small house. “Who wants to talk about it?”

No one says a word.

“Okay, so none of us wants to, but we have to.”

“Why?” Kevin asks.

“Because we need to have a family meeting to figure some stuff out,” Sam replies. “You two know right and wrong. You know when you’re being bad. And when you’re hurting someone’s feelings. Right?”

Both of them nod mournfully.

“Then why are you acting this way?” I ask. “I know you’re sad. I am, too. But we can’t be mean to other people.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Kevin glares at the floor. He just turned five and has so much anger in his little body, I don’t know what to do.

“It matters,” Sam corrects him. “No iPad tonight.”

Kevin just hops off his chair and walks to his bedroom.

“Can I have a nap?” Kelsey asks. “I’m sleepy.”

“Sure.” I brush her hair off her shoulder. “Do you want me to read to you first?”

“No. I’ll just sleep.”

She walks away to the room she shares with her brother, leaving me with Sam.

“I’m fucking this up,” I say and rub my hands over my face. “Big time.”

“They need counseling,” he says. “Shit, we all do.”

“What was she thinking, leaving them to me?” I ask. I look at Sam and hold my hands out at my sides. “I don’t know how to be a mom.”

“Well, I don’t know how to be a dad, but they left them to me, too. They trusted us to do what’s right. And we’re doing that.”

I want to tell him that shuffling them back and forth between my house and his rental isn’t exactly the best thing for them, but I don’t. Because we’re doing the best we can with the hand we’ve been dealt.

And it’s a pretty shitty one.

“I’m going to stay for a while,” he says. “I’ll have dinner with you guys. I don’t have other plans.”

“We’d like that. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. But you could make your famous tacos.”

I smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. Monica loved my tacos.

“Deal.”

* * *

“Let’s grab lunch,”Sam suggests a week later. We just finished signing the papers to sell the salon, one of the last details to see to regarding the estate.

I shrug a shoulder. “I’m really not that hungry.”

“You have to eat,” he says gently. “And so do I. The kids are with Aspen. Let’s go be crazy and eat junk food at Ed’s.”

Ed’s Diner is my favorite. He knows this.

And it totally works.

“Yeah, okay. Let’s do it. Shall we walk over?”

“Good idea.”

The diner isn’t too far away from the title office we just left, so we set off on foot, soaking in the sunshine.

“I feel guilty for selling the salon,” I say and watch as a kid on a bicycle zooms past us.

“You said you didn’t want to continue running it,” he points out.

Poor Sam. I’ve been so up and down over the past month, I’m surprised he hasn’t shaken me silly. Instead, he’s been kind and patient.

And hot, but I’m so exhausted, even my libido has gone on vacation.

“I don’t want to run it,” I agree. “And I’m certainly not in the right headspace to hire someone else to do it. I know that selling was the right call, and Reagan will do a wonderful job. Also, Monica used her inheritance when your parents passed away to start the business. This way, that money will go into a trust for the kids. It’s the right thing to do.”

“Then why do you feel guilty?”

“I live my life in a permanent state of guilt.” Sam reaches over to take my hand and gives it a squeeze. “And I know that Monica would roll her eyes and tell me to get over it. To stop it. But I can’t.”

“It hasn’t been long,” he reminds me gently and pulls me to a stop so I don’t walk out in front of traffic. “Red light.”

“Oops, thanks. I’m going to just enjoy a greasy cheeseburger and your company.”

“Good plan. I’ll do the same.”

We hurry across the street and into Ed’s, which is surprisingly quiet for near lunchtime. There’s almost always a wait to be seated because it’s so popular—among the locals and tourists alike.

But today, luck is on our side and the hostess immediately shows us to a booth against the windows.

Ed’s has been in business for longer than either of us has been alive. Ed himself still runs the kitchen, and little about the place has changed in decades. It’s an old-fashioned diner, just like in the movies, with red vinyl seats, a long soda fountain bar, and a jukebox in the corner that plays everything from Elvis to Bon Jovi.

Ed claims he won’t put any music in that thing that was made after 1990.

This diner has been an integral part of my life. We came here for birthday dinners when I was a kid, and after football games in high school. I sat at a nearby table and mooned over Sam as he joked around with his friends across the room.

And this was where Monica told me and Aspen that she was pregnant with the twins.

I take a deep breath and set the menu aside. I don’t have to look at it to know what I want.

“Hey, you two,” Flo, another staple at Ed’s, says as she approaches our table to take our order. “What can I getcha?”

“I’ll have a cheeseburger, no tomato, with fries and mayo on the side. A Coke to drink, please.” I smile at Flo as she writes down my order and then turns to Sam.

“I think I’m in the mood for the BLT, onion rings, and a Coke, as well. Thanks, Flo.”

“You got it. Shouldn’t take long.” She winks and walks away.

“Okay, I admit it. Now that we’re here, I’m hungry.”

Sam grins. “You can never resist Ed’s.”

“It’s true. It’s a drug, and I’m completely addicted. How are things at work? I haven’t even asked you what’s happening with the position in Spokane. I’m sorry. I’m a shitty friend.”

“Nah, we’ve had a bit on our minds.” He shakes his head and rubs his lips together. “The guys in Spokane said they’d hold the position for me for six months. And, of course, the job here didn’t want to lose me in the first place, so everything’s fine.”

“But you sold your house and everything.”

“I’m renting the apartment.” He shrugs. “Honestly, I’m okay. Pissed most of the time, but fine.”

“You hide the anger well.”

“The punching bag at the gym would argue with that.”

I glance around the room and notice that a couple of people are looking our way.

“You know what the worst part of living in a small town is?” I ask him after our drinks are delivered.

“The gossip.” He sips his Coke and also glances around. “We should be used to it by now.”

“It’s never really been aimed at me before,” I admit and squirm in my seat.

“I think people mean well,” he says. “They feel bad.”

“And they think I don’t have ears. Every time I go to the grocery, bank, or…anywhere, they talk as if I’m not even there. ‘Oh, isn’t it sad? Poor Sam and Tash. Stuck with those babies.’ I’m not stuck with anything.”

“People say that?”

“Oh, yeah. And other things. Why can’t they just talk behind my back when I’m not around like normal people? I don’t honestly care about that, I just don’t want to hear it.”

“I’m tired of the constant condolences,” Sam says. “If I hear ‘I’m sorry for your loss’ one more time, I might strangle someone.”

“Amen to that.”

Our food is delivered, and my mouth starts to water.

“Nothing like a burger from Ed’s.” I go through the ritual of taking the lettuce off and rearranging the pickles, squirting ketchup into my mayo before giving it a stir with a fry. When I look up, I see Sam watching me with a grin. “What?”

“If you don’t want the lettuce, why don’t you ask them to hold it with the tomato?”

“Because this is how I do it.” I munch on a fry. “It’s my routine. My Ed’s routine.”

“Okay.” He takes an onion ring and reaches over to dunk it in my sauce, but I slap his hand. “Hey. Don’t be stingy.”

“Get your own.” But I laugh and scoot the little dish closer to him. “Okay, I’ll share.”

“That looks beautiful on you.”

I blink at him. “What?”

“The laugh. I think it’s the first time I’ve seen it since…the day.”

I shrug a shoulder. “I haven’t felt much like laughing.”

And when I do, the guilt settles in again.

Monica doesn’t get to laugh anymore, why should I?

Because I’m alive.

“Okay, I won’t mention it again because you stopped laughing and now you look sad again.”

“I’m okay.” I take a big bite of burger. “This helps.”

I have to wipe ketchup off my chin.

“You’re so classy,” he says with a laugh.

“I know, right?”

“Hey, you guys.” We look up to find Mrs. Blakely standing at our table. She owns Little Deli on main street and was close to Sam’s parents when they were alive. “I don’t want to interrupt your lunch, I just wanted to stop by and see how you’re holding up.”

Here we go.

“We’re doing fine, thank you for asking,” Sam says in his polite voice. The one his parents taught him to use whenever speaking to an elder.

“Well, I’m sure you’re doing as well as you can, considering,” Mrs. Blakely says and gives his shoulder a soft pat. Then she turns her gaze to me, and I feel like squirming again. “How about you, dear? I’m sure the twins are giving you a run for your money.”

“They’re great.” I swallow the bite of burger that now tastes like cardboard.

“I’ve heard they’re having some trouble at the preschool,” she says, and I sigh.

For fuck’s sake, all I wanted to do was have lunch with Sam.

“You know what, I don’t think I’m hungry anymore.” I wipe my mouth and drop the napkin on the table. Sam sits back in his seat, anger warring with worry as he watches me. “Mrs. Blakely, you already paid your respects at the funeral. There’s no need to interrupt us during lunch and make us sad. Make us feel badly all over again. It’s rude. And it’s not okay.”

I push out of the booth and head for the door.

“Oh, my,” I hear her say, but I don’t give a shit.

This is why I rarely leave the house.

Because every damn time I do, I’m reminded that my best friend is gone, and she’s never coming back. She won’t get to see her gorgeous children grow up. She was robbed of everything.

All because a fucking landlord didn’t install a CO2 detector in a rental house.

“Tash.”

I hear Sam rush up behind me. He doesn’t take my arm, he simply wraps his arms around me and hugs me close from behind.

“I’m just so angry,” I whisper.

“I know. Me, too. They’re wrapping up our food to go. Let’s go home and eat in peace there.”

I nod as he turns me around to face him.

“I was rude to her.”

“She’ll survive.” He kisses my forehead, and tiny sparks of awareness appear in my belly, making me swallow hard. “Let’s go.”