Page 81 of Rogue
Shelby
“We still have each other,” Madelyn whispers, squeezing my hand tightly within her grasp.
I can’t respond. It’s impossibly given how my heart is wedged inside my throat. I return her squeeze and together we watch Mama’s coffin being lowered into the red-clay earth.
I’m powerless. An insignificant ball of nothingness bouncing about on a playground of ache, growing larger by the second and preparing to burst into a dismal display of tears. Grief overwhelms me.Let go, my mind prompts.Let go.But the tears just won’t come.
The money, the doctors, the experimental treatments, myabsencefrom Mama’s life when every waking hour I should have been by her side.
I can’t break apart.
There’s Madelyn to worry about.
Franco.
And last but not least, Hayden.
I been so busy arranging my mother’s funeral, meeting with her lawyer, fighting through the anguish that I didn’t call in. Even a bastard like Hayden can’t expect someone beaten down and overwhelmed by grief to adhere to a business agreement. He can’t be that apathetic, that much of a bastard. Whether he likes it or not, an agreement is an agreement, and my modified contract—which he signed—holds true. My priority is my family. Period.
Still, I moved the funeral from Shelby to Dayton anyway. Not wanting to draw my employer or anyone else’s attention on my personal business. I worry Hayden found out about Madelyn—there’s not much that man misses. And Shelby’s far too small a town to keep secrets for long. But I can’t dwell on it. It’s bad enough Franco knows I have a sister.
She’s all I have left. And I’ll do whatever is necessary to keep her out of my shenanigans. Always have, always will.
The sooner she transfers colleges, the better.
The priest nods and my sister and I move forward. I release her hand before crouching and scooping up a handful of earth. I patiently wait for Madelyn to sprinkle dirt over Mama’s casket before doing the same.
While the priest finishes the eulogy, I study my palm. How the earthen clay’s tinted my palm a light reddish color, leaving deeper lines in the grooves of my hand. Accentuating my life line—a long one, or so the palm reader at the Shelby Fair had told me years ago. The only line that rivals it is my love line, which starts at my pointer finger, extends diagonally across my palm, and ends at the heel of my hand. When I’d asked, she’d said it represented romantic love. I’d laughed. Not understanding that romantic love exists.
Jaxson.I haven’t seen or spoken to him in six weeks. I wonder if the psychic had gotten it wrong. If romantic love is romantic because it’s fleeting.
I feel Madelyn weave her fingers back through mine. “Ouch,” she admonishes as I squeeze her fingers a bit too hard. Yeah, I’ll take comfort in sisterly love.
“We still have each other,” I repeat her words. “Even if you relocate to San Diego earlier than planned.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “I’m not in the program yet. No sense in moving until I’m sure.”
“You will be, mark my words.”
“Yes, oh-sage-sister-who-can-predict-the-future,” she responds, then grows somber.
A future. Without Mama.
No words needed. Neither of us imagined the unthinkable would happen. Guess that’s what hope does . . . clouds the inevitable and forces you to believe otherwise.
But Mama knew. A matter of fact, she’d been preparing for it. I never anticipated the bombshell she left behind. Turns out, I wasn’t the only one keeping secrets. I was speechless when Mr. Johnson went over Mama’s will and the assets she’d been building for years in our names. Money we could have cashed in for her cancer treatments—which is exactly why she kept quiet about it.
When Mama mentioned having business sense, I figured she tucked away a few government bonds, not to be cashed out until retirement.
Not an inheritance that’d allow Madelyn and I to live comfortably for several years. Such a selfless act. She set us up for a brighter future instead of spending the small fortune on medical bills. Though truth be told, I’d pass on the money any day if we could have her back.
Now she’ll never discover what I’ve been up to and the measures I’ve taken to pay for a cure. At least I can rest easy knowing that we tried.
I’ve done what I can in a short period of time. Funeral arrangements, money arrangements, and relocating my sister and me to a quick, temporary residence, a trailer on the other side of town. It’s not the Ritz. Or a Motel 6. But it’s clean, affordable, and I can lease it on a month-to-month basis until Madelyn moves to California. Getting a hands-on experience as a marine biologist living in landlocked Oklahoma is just about as challenging as ridding Shelby of all its vermin.
California, here she comes. I’m counting on it.
Then I can figure out my own career plans. As if I have a choice—I signed a damn contract. Made a deal with Hayden. No backing out now while I have an assignment to complete. Actions have freaking consequences, right?
