Page 21 of Texas
“She left him,” Donna says. “But he hasn’t left her. Not really. Not in the ways that matter.” I don’t speak. I don’t need to. I simply let her talk. “She needs someone right now. She won’t ask for help. But she needs it.” Her words are gentle, but they land like a directive.
Swallowing hard, my throat feels tight. “And you think I’m that someone?”
Donna moves to the cupboard and takes down coffee mugs. “I’m hoping you are.”
“And if I don’t know what I’m doing?” I ask.
“None of us do,” Donna says a moment before Kristin walks back in, curls less tangled and pulled back with a clip.
She looks between us, eyes narrowing. “What are you two whispering about?”
Pouring a cup of coffee, Donna smiles. “Just asking Reggie if she’s a coffee snob.”
“I’m not,” I say, grateful for the out.
Kristin smiles, and I see how it matches her mother’s. “Good. Because you already know I make it strong, with no apology.”
We sit at the table, the three of us, passing croissants and jam, sipping coffee. The kitchen is bright with morning light, the air already warm from the open window. Kristin is beside me, one leg tucked under the other, her elbow brushing mine every time she reaches for her mug. Across the table, Donna leans back in her chair, hands wrapped around her cup, watching us both like she’s taking mental notes. Not in a judgmental way, but more like she’s cataloging something important.
“So,” Donna says after a long sip of coffee. “Are either of you going to the fundraiser Friday night? The one for the library?”
Looking up from her coffee, Kristin raises an eyebrow. “You mean the annual auction where half the town shows up to pretend they read more than church bulletins?”
With a laugh, Donna shakes her head. “That’s the one,” she says. “We’re raising money to expand the children’s section. Add more books that aren’t about talking vegetables or bible animals.”
Kristin chuckles. “You’re still pushing that banned books table, huh?”
“Someone has to,” Donna says. “The board’s already clutching their pearls over the idea of teenagers reading anything with a queer character.”
I glance at Donna. “You’re on the board?”
“Of the library? No. I run the place,” Donna says, then smiles at me. “I like stories. And I like making sure other people get to find themselves in one.” There’s something in her tone that says more than her words, and I wonder about Kristin’s past. Something to tuck away for later.
“How’s the clinic?” Donna asks, turning her attention to her daughter. “Denise said you’ve been pulling long hours.”
Looking toward the window, Kristin shrugs. “It’s steady,” she says. “We had three new patients this week. Two of them referrals from the shelter a few towns over.”
“That’s good,” Donna says with a nod. “Word keeps getting out.”
Kristin’s mouth tightens. “It’s also dangerous. People are noticing. Not all of them friendly.” She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I don’t need more drama.”
For a beat, Donna’s eyes flick to me. “You mean Will.”
At the words, Kristin goes still, then she nods. “He showed up yesterday. Unannounced. Walked into the backyard like he still had the right.”
Donna doesn’t move, but her eyes sharpen. “What did he say?”
“Nothing I haven’t heard before,” Kristin says. “He brought insurance paperwork. Claimed he was doing me a favor. Then he saw Reggie and got that look.”
Again, a glance from Donna, but I let Kristin do the talking. “What look?” Donna asks and Kristin sighs.
“Like he was calculating how fast he could ruin me with this new information.”
Anger etching her face, Donna sets her coffee down with a clink. “And what did you do?”
“I told him to leave,” Kristin says. “And he did. Eventually.”
Kristin’s mom turns to me, looking at me dead on. “And what did you do?”
