Page 11 of Second Chance Fate

Maybe a coffee shop would be a good fit for a part-time job. Not that she could be picky at this point, especially after she’d just had to pay for Owen’s sensor out of pocket.

As soon as they got back to their small, cozy rental, Taylor put Owen’s insulin in the fridge and the box of albuterol solution for his nebulizer in the cabinet. She let out a sigh of relief, and her body relaxed, knowing she was fully stocked.

“This isn’t for you,” she told Casper, who was sniffing the paper bag the medication came in as she threw it away. “Were you a good boy?”

The question caused his ears to perk up and his butt to hit the ground. She opened the fridge and grabbed the ingredients she needed to make tacos for lunch and a special treat for Casper, for not chewing up the throw pillows while they were at church. After she set down the ground beef, tomatoes, cheese, onion, and garlic on the counter, she put a slice of turkey meat on Casper’s nose. He sat, waiting for the command. When she gave him the okay, he moved his head to the side and caught the meat in his mouth.

“Good boy!” She bent down and kissed him on the top of his head, scratching him behind his ears.

Once he was satisfied that the treat train had left the station, Casper joined Owen, who had plopped down in front of the TV on the secondhand beanbag she’d picked up at Goodwill. When the seventy-pound bundle of love sank into the oversized cushion, Taylor noticed the tear she’d repaired was going to need another patch.

As she put the ground beef in the pan to brown, she wondered if Owen missed their old home in Chicago. She knew he didn’t miss her ex, but when they lived with him, Owen had the newest video games and consoles. He always had the latest sneakers and clothes. He never wanted for anything material. Martin was very big on keeping up appearances, so he made sure that Owen had the best because Owen was a reflection of him. They always had to have the newest technology in the house, the newest cars, and the latest phones, and their home felt sterile and cold, no color, just clean lines and neutrals.

The one-bedroom cottage in Hope Falls was cozy and lived-in. It was an Airbnb, but Taylor approached the owner to stay long-term so that way she didn’t have to run a credit check. She didn’t want any digital trail that could lead back to her and Owen. Thankfully, the owner agreed. Her only condition was that Taylor had to furnish it herself so she could use the furniture to stage another property.

All of the furniture was second-hand. There was a well-loved, blue couch with unpredictable springs against one wall and a single bookshelf crammed double-deep with Taylor’s romance novels and Owen’s ever-growing collection of graphic novels. The walls had vintage floral wallpaper, which was already there when they moved in. The kitchen was tiny, but tiny was good; it was less to clean. Taylor loved the open shelving that displayed her eclectic collection of mismatched mugs, which was a newhobby of hers. She’d started it on the drive from Illinois to California. She picked up a different mug at every gas station, like mile markers to her freedom. There was green tile in the bathroom, and even though the entire cottage was only about seven hundred square feet, it had five different types of flooring: white and black checkerboard in the kitchen, parquet in the front room, penny tile in the bathroom, shag carpet in the bedroom, and brick pavers in the mud/laundry room.

The place didn’t look like a Pinterest board, but it had character and heart. It really felt like home. She didn’t mind sleeping on the couch so her son could have his own room. It actually made her feel safer being close to the front door. She was the first and only line of defense to protect her child.

The alarm went off on both her and Owen’s phones, indicating it was time for his afternoon medication.

“Lunch is ready in five,” she announced as she chopped the tomatoes, letting him know he could wait to take his pills once he ate.

“Kay,” he answered as he continued watching TV and petting Casper. “Oh, yeah, I forgot, are we going to Arthur’s party tonight?”

Arthur Santino lived at Golden Years. From what Taylor had observed, he didn’t like most people and avoided them like the plague, but not Owen. He not only tolerated Owen, he was teaching him how to play chess. The two instantly bonded about a week after they moved to Hope Falls when Owen noticed Arthur had the same insulin pump as he did. It was his 90thbirthday party that night, but she doubted Arthur would even be there that long, since he was the most anti-social person she knew, and she really didn’t want Owen to wear himself out with school tomorrow.

“Um, we’ll have to see. It might be too much with school tomorrow.”

Owen was so excited to go to school, he didn’t even fight her on the party.

After she finished shredding the cheese, she started to ask Owen to set the table when she noted that his coloring was a little pale, and she decided to do it herself. As she set the plates on the table, every cell in her body was screaming for her to revoke her agreement to let him return to public school the next day. She inhaled slowly through her nose and exhaled through her mouth, reminding herself that before she’d moved to Hope Falls, he’d gone to public school.

Taylor also had to remember that she’d spoken to his pulmonologist, endocrinologist, cardiologist, and neurologist, who were all in agreement that it was best for his development to be with his peers. She’d also met with his teachers and the school’s administration. Everyone from the crossing guard to the nurse to the janitor was aware of his medical history and conditions. She’d done her due diligence. She couldn’t control his health, no matter how much she wished she could.

“Lunch is ready,” she announced.

At her call, both boys jumped up and raced to the kitchen. Owen washed his hands while Taylor filled both their glasses with ice, then grabbed two cans of Poppi from the fridge. She set the glasses down and grabbed Owen’s pillbox.

As soon as they sat down, Owen pulled out his pump and gave himself the appropriate amount of insulin as Taylor poured their drinks. Once he finished administering his insulin, he popped his medication in his mouth and swallowed it.

Owen grabbed the biggest taco she’d made and took a huge bite.

“This is the best taco I’ve ever tasted,” he said as he chewed it.

They both knew that wasn’t true; she wasn’t a great cook, but Taylor did her best to take care of them, and Owen appreciated all the little things she did.

She felt something on her leg and looked down to see Casper had brought her a “gift.” Whenever they were eating, Casper brought them things to try and extort bites from them. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t, depending on what he had in his mouth.

Taylor reached down and tried to pull it out, but Casper wasn’t letting go.

“Drop it,” she commanded, and he instantly opened his mouth.

When she looked at the paper, she saw it was a pamphlet from the church. “What’s this?” she asked her son.

His eyes brightened with excitement. ”Oh, yeah, I forgot. That’s the hot pastor guy and his parents.” He pointed to a photo that looked like it was taken twenty years ago; it also looked like it was a photo of Owen. “Everyone thought that was a picture of me,” he stated casually as he took another bite of taco.

Taylor’s breath caught in her throat, and her stomach dropped out from under her as she read the description. Pastor George Harrison, wife Annie Harrison, and son Caleb Harrison, age 11, at the groundbreaking ceremony for Hope Falls Community Church.

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