Folk Around and Find Out (Good Folk: Modern Folktales #2)(104)

“I thought I heard the front—”

A knock sounded on my bedroom door, cutting him off, followed by my mother’s voice saying, “Charlotte? Are you awake?”

I sat up, sucking in a sharp breath, my wide eyes swinging to Hank’s frowning profile.

Before I could even think of what to do or how to answer her, the doorknob turned. The door opened. My mother stood at the entrance to my room.

“Baby, are you okay? I heard the news. What can I do? I figured—OH MY GOD!” she screeched as soon as her gaze landed on Hank, and she clutched her chest.

I lifted a staying hand. “Now, momma, calm down—”

“Charlotte Eugenia Mitchell! What is that man doing in this house? And in your bedroom?” She stabbed a finger in Hank’s direction.

Gingerly, I set my feet on the ground and sighed. “Mother, that is none of your business. Who I have over here, and when, and how often, has nothing to do with you.”

She gasped, her eyes rimmed with shock and hurt, but what could I do? I was a grown-ass woman with four kids and a lifetime of bad decisions under her belt. You’d think after twenty-eight years of watching me stumble around and resist her ideas of propriety, she would’ve given up on me by now.

God love her, she still wanted me to be a demure debutante.

“Well!” she said on a huff, lifting her chin. “I came over here to offer support, to see if I could be of any help—”

“Please don’t fuss, I’m much better.” I stood, picking up the prescription from next to the bed. “Ashley came over last night, said it was mostly dehydration, but I did have double ear infections. Sleep was what I needed most.”

My mother wrinkled her nose and her forehead, visibly confused. “What? Are you sick?”

“Yes.” I traded a look with Hank. He held perfectly still, only his eyes shifting between me and my mother like he didn’t want to make any sudden movements. Hoping to disarm the situation as much as possible, I continued, “I know we’re going to miss church. I’m sorry I didn’t call. Frankie smashed my phone and—wait. You didn’t know I was sick?”

“I had no idea!”

My back straightened. “Then why are you here?”

“Charlotte, no. No. I’m glad you’re better, but I’m here because of Kevin and Heather!” Her voice pitched higher and I flinched.

“Kevin? Heather?” My attention narrowed on my mother’s anxiety-riddled face.

“Yes, baby.” Her gaze fretful as it locked with mine, she crossed to me, grabbing my hands. Her chin wobbled. “It was all for nothing. Heather turned herself in down in Florida. She’s facing jail time and your aunt and uncle are coming apart, they’re so worried. You never should’ve worked at that horrid place. I knew this would happen.”

“What does Heather have to do with Kevin?”

“He’s doing it, just like I feared. I saw his sister this morning at the garden club meeting after church. You know, she always liked you, but she can’t talk them out of it now that the old man has his mind made up. Charlotte—” My mother’s voice wavered and broke.

No. No way. She couldn’t mean . . . “I don’t—I don’t understand.”

“It’s what I said would happen.” My mother’s whispered words, so full of despair and compassion, also held just a hint of acrimonious I told you so. “Kevin and his family are suing for full custody on account of you working at The Pink Pony in order to find your cousin. We never should’ve done it. God, baby.” She lifted her hand to cup my cheek. “I never should’ve let you. I am so, so sorry.”





Hank left.

Well, first he made pancakes and bacon for the kids. He’d introduced himself to Frankie and invited him to help flip the pancakes, but my mother wouldn’t let my youngest go. Joshua happily flipped the pancakes instead while Frankie made a fuss about wanting to help. Kimmy was responsible for the bacon, and Sonya set the table. We all ate together. I couldn’t tell you what was discussed or whether the pancakes were good. I couldn’t bring myself to eat.

Hank and the kids did the dishes—Frankie finally getting to help—while my mother sat with me in the family room. She ranted about my cousin. I pretended to listen. I couldn’t think. Hank had Sonya try on her corn cob costume one more time, showing it to everyone for comment—my momma had been reluctantly impressed by his handiwork—and he left after that.

He hadn’t kissed me goodbye, not that I expected him to. We weren’t telling the kids yet.

My momma decided I needed rest, so she also left . . . me with my four children. An odd combination of restless numbness shrouded my ability to process, or feel, so I took the kids to the park and let them run around like the feral children they were, keeping my eyes on Frankie. He seemed to be all better. I dreaded giving him another bath tonight, but what else was new.

I wondered tangentially who would give Frankie a bath if Kevin got custody? A nanny? A maid? Definitely a stranger.

When we arrived home, some of the stunned detachment I’d been cloaked in frayed. My throat cinched tighter with every step and my hands trembled. I balled them into fists. I closed my eyes. I tried to breathe through the rising panic and self-recrimination.

And so I prayed.