Page 3 of Until Delilah

His blue eyes light up. “Are GiGi and PopPop going to be there?”

“Not right now, baby.” I pull his hat down a little further on his head. “We’re going someplace where no one knows us.”

“I won’t have any friends,” he pouts, but quickly looks down at his stuffed polar bear. “Except you and Chewy.”

“You’ll make new friends in no time. The only thing I ask is you don’t tell them about Bradley.”

His nose crinkles as he shakes his head.

Standing, I hold my hand out for him to take. My eyes well with tears when his little hand takes mine. No little boy should have to be put through this. What kind of life is a life on the run for a seven-year-old?

When we step outside the bathroom, a few people are milling around, but everyone is keeping to themselves. I make sure to keep my distance and my head down as we make our way out to the bus and our new life.

Stepping onto the bus, I look back at Jackson, Mississippi and wish it farewell.

“I hope to never see you again.”

1

Delilah

“Shit,”I curse as my driver pulls up outside the school and there are no cars in sight. I’m late on Beckham’s first day of school. Could I be a worse mother? First, I make him leave the only home he remembers, drag him away from his friends, and won’t let him talk to them in fear that he might accidentally mention where we’ve settled down. Now he probably thinks I’ve abandoned him.

“Would you like me to wait?” the driver asks as I hand him a twenty.

I look at the school again and see no one. Who knows how long it will take me to find my son? “No, thanks,” I answer as I pop out of the taxi. Lucky for me, the school isn’t too far from the women’s shelter we’re staying at.

Striding up to the door, I try to open it only to find it locked. I curse myself again for being late. I couldn’t believe I let time get away from me, but I really thought I might land a job today. I want to get Beckham and me out of the shelter and into our own home as soon as I possibly can, but at this rate, it doesn’t seem like it’s ever going to happen. Perhaps it’s the fact the makeup I borrowed from one of the women at the shelter doesn’t do a very good job of covering the bruising around my eye that has now turned a lovely bluish-purple.

They all probably think I’m drama with a capital D. I don’t blame them. I have little to no job experience, and can only work the hours Beckham is in school until I have some money saved up and can afford either a babysitter or an after-school program. The weight of it all has made me want to break down in tears more than once.

Circling the school to find another door to enter with, I find Beck outside with his face pressed up against the fence as he watches a group of older boys play baseball.

I’m not sure where he gets his love of baseball because it certainly isn’t from me. I can’t even remember a time when Bradley ever had the TV on a sports event.

Coming to stand beside him, I wrap an arm around his shoulders and watch the boys with him. “Hey, buddy. I’m sorry I’m late. I promise it won’t happen again.”

He shrugs and continues to watch them play. “It’s okay. I like watching them play.”

The feminine sound of a throat clearing has me turning around to see a pretty blonde standing with her purse on her shoulder and a kind smile on her face. She steps forward with her hand out. “Hi, you must be Mrs. Williams. I’m Beckham’s teacher, December Black.”

“Hi,” I greet her, shaking her hand. “I’m Delilah Williams. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m so sorry I was late. I swear I’m not normally a late person, but I’m out trying to find a job and time got away from me.”

“That’s okay. It was only a few minutes, and Beckham reassured me you’d be here soon.”

“At least I got a new phone. My other one… broke, and I had to get a new plan and everything, but now the school will be able to get ahold of me if anything happens.”

Her smile is still sweet but strained at the corners as if she can detect my lie. “Yes, they do like to have a phone number on record. Beckham was no trouble, though. He stood and watched the boys play baseball. Even though he’s only been in my class for one day, he really is a sweet kid.”

“Thank you. I think so too.”

Squatting down to eye level with him, December asks, “Were you on a baseball team back where you used to live?”

He nods enthusiastically. “It’s my favorite.”

“You know, my son is coaching an after-school baseball team. Would you be interested in it? It’s only one day a week, but it’s free. It starts tomorrow if you’d like to sign up.”

“Tomorrow you say?” I frown, unsure if it’s a good idea. “I’ll think about it. Is there something I need to sign?”

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