Page 67 of The Rules We Broke
“Doris, would you mind delivering this to the bank today if you get a chance? ”It was the only way I could get it to him without seeing him.
I could’ve asked Kendra, I guess, but I didn’t want questions. I needed clean lines. No threads back to the Jacksons—except for one tiny promise to read to Caroline’s class. And I’d keep it. I always kept my promises.
Doris surprised me. She sat beside me and took my hands in hers.
“Do you want to talk about it, Miss Ella?”
“Talk about what?”
“That Jackson boy, of course.”
I laughed. “You know he has a name, right? And he’s definitely not a boy anymore.”
“Sorry, Miss Ella. That’s what Ms. Eaton calls him, and I’m just used to it.”
“It’s all right, Doris.” I smiled softly. “Thanks for the offer, but I think he’s the last person I should be talking about.”
She squeezed my hands. “Oh, Miss Ella . . . you still love him.”
“I almost can’t remember a time when I didn’t.” I sniffled.
“You know, I was always rooting for the two of you.”
I mustered a sad smile. “Does my aunt know that?”
She waved her hand dismissively. “This Eaton-Jackson nonsense has gone on long enough in this town. I always hoped the two of you would finally bridge the gap. And Miss Ella, I’ve never seen two kids more in love than you two.”
“I thought so, too,” I mumbled. “But I was young and naive. Brady fell in love with someone else, and his parents would never have accepted me.”
Doris gave a small snort. “Miss Ella, my mother-in-law never liked me—God rest her soul—but that sure didn’t keep me and my Cal apart. And as for Mr. Brady being in love with that other girl? I don’t know. I saw them around town, and it sure didn’tlooklike love to me.”
“Then why did it last so long? They were engaged.”
“Honey, I can’t answer that. Have you asked Mr. Brady?”
“No. I just yelled at him.”
She patted my cheeks like she used to when I was small. “Well, he probably deserved it.”
“Thanks, Doris. I’ve missed you.”
Her eyes grew wet, unspoken years shimmering in them. “It’s never been the same since you left.”
I hugged her tight, letting that weight settle gently between us.
Then I went about my day.
She fed me well—of course she did. A plate full of comfort and affection. Afterward, I headed to see my aunt. I’d already called this morning and knew she was doing better, but I needed to see her with my own eyes.
Because even sick and stitched together in a hospital bed, she was still my momma. And sometimes, no matter how grown-up you try to be, a girl just needs her mom.
Before heading to see my aunt, I tracked down my favorite doctor friend—the one still lying through his teeth about graduating from Auburn.
Several boxes had arrived that morning: dolls, books, and enough heart to fill a shelf. I owed him for being such a good sport.
And truthfully, I needed a mission.
I asked if I could visit the children’s ward and donate the items. Dr. Sandstrom was gracious as ever. He walked me down to meet the pediatric coordinator, who lit up like a Christmas tree when she saw the donations.
