The Apple Tree (Sunday Morning, #2) (76)

I held his gaze for a long moment, a silent standoff.

He jerked his head. “Run along.”

Run along?

That was something one said to a child. I wasn’t a child. I was the woman who had been making his meals, bathing him, taking care of his son, sewing a costume, and working a full-time job. How dare he tell me to run along.

“Trouble in paradise?” Erin asked as I pulled a container of apples out from under the food table to refill the tray while she rinsed out paintbrushes at the table next to me. Since she was artsy, she volunteered to do face paintings.

“Coach Collins likes to treat me like a child when he’s jealous of a seventeen-year-old.”

“I have to pee!” Josh ran up to me and pulled on my hand. “I’m stuck.” He reached for his buttons.

“Oh, dear. Let me—”

“Nooo …” he grabbed his crotch.

I pulled the costume down his body, but he’d already wet himself.

“My costume,” he said with a quivering lower lip and big tears.

“Oh, buddy. I’m sorry. Let’s get you cleaned up.” I looked around for Kyle.

He was talking to some of the players’ parents, so I led Josh into the church. It was dimly lit because Dad only had it open for people to use the restrooms.

“Now w-we have to g-go,” Josh said, sniffling.

“Yes, but we’ll do something fun to make up for it. Okay?”

“What? I wanted t-to play g-games.”

I closed the restroom door, helped him out of his soiled clothes, washed him off, and then pulled off my hoodie and put it on him. It nearly reached his ankles.

“Listen, sweet boy.” I lowered before him and cradled his face, wiping his tears with my thumbs. “I’m going to wash your costume tonight. Then tomorrow, we’ll do something extra special. Okay?”

He sniffled. “Will I get to wear my costume?”

“Absolutely.” I kissed his forehead. “Now”—I pulled the hood over his head—“Let’s sneak out. No one will know it’s you.” I took his hand and led him out of the church.

As we headed toward the truck, Kyle spotted us and made his way toward it too. “What are you—” he started to ask before he eyed the wadded costume in my other hand.

“Sorry, Dad,” Josh mumbled with his head down.

I wrinkled my nose. “It was my fault. I put the buttons in the back.”

Kyle shook his head. “It was an accident. Nobody’s fault.” He opened the door, and I helped Josh into the back seat. “You should have told me. I would have dealt with him.”

“Why? You think I’m not capable?” I walked around to the driver’s door.

“No,” he said when I climbed into his truck and started it. “Is everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” I put the truck into reverse.

“Watch out for—”

Thunk!

“Oh my gosh!” I covered my mouth.

Kyle closed his eyes for a second.

“What happened?” Josh asked.

“We hit a utility pole,” Kyle said slowly while I put the truck in Park and jumped out.

“Eve Marie Jacobson!” Mom cried, running toward the truck.

It wasn’t just her. Everyone gathered as though I had run his truck through the front door of the church. I was so embarrassed.

“Darling, what on earth were you doing?” Dad asked as we surveyed the dented bumper.

Worth noting: It was barely a dent.

Still, I wanted to cry, but I didn’t. There were too many people. And grown-ups didn’t cry when they ran their vehicle into something. But it wasn’t my vehicle. It was Kyle’s truck.

“We’ll get it handled, Kyle. I’m so sorry about that. Eve won’t see her paycheck for quite some time,” Dad said.

Barely. A. Dent!

“It’s fine. It was an accident,” Kyle murmured, rubbing the back of his neck while staring at the bumper.

I hung my head.

“You broke his arm, and now Eve dented his bumper,” Mom said to my dad. “I bet he regrets moving here.”

“Maybe it’s best if someone else drives you,” Dad said.

“Eve’s got it,” Kyle replied, opening the passenger’s door.

Keeping my head bowed, I sulked to the door and climbed into the truck. “I’m so sorry,” I muttered, starting the truck and putting it in Drive.

Kyle sighed. “It was an accident.”

That was all he said the rest of the way to his house.

Josh and I headed straight upstairs and Kyle let the dog out. I made sure Josh took a shower before putting on his jammies and brushing his teeth.

“What story do you want tonight, buddy?” Kyle asked as I straightened the covers on Josh’s bed.

“This one!” Josh held up a book and Clifford jumped onto the bed.

“I’m going to make a grocery list,” I said without looking at Kyle.

“You can go home if you want,” he said.

My heart cracked, each chamber barely holding together. And I swallowed past the rush of emotions.

“I just mean, you’ve been living out of a backpack. Tomorrow is Saturday. Josh will sleep in a bit, and so will I.”