But that's all over now. No more Pathetic Ava. I didn't come back to America to leach off Ray and Darcy. I want to be someone they'll be proud of. And I want to be a role model for Mia, even if she never knows I'm her mother.
Hiding in my room is not going to achieve any of these things.
I fire up my computer and answer the medical center email with an affirmative for a phone interview. I don't think anything will come of it-there must be a qualified candidate who's closer-but why not? Then I upload my résumé to a few more places.
Once I'm done, I go downstairs. Ray and Darcy are reading next to each other on the couch and they look up almost simultaneously in surprise. I haven't been downstairs much in the last week.
"Good morning," Ray says in a careful but cheery voice. "You want some breakfast? We have coffee and I'm about to make pancakes."
"Both, if you don't mind."
Ray beams. "Of course not. I'd be delighted."
Darcy immediately jumps to her feet and offers me a fresh mug of coffee. Ray whips up breakfast quickly, as though he's afraid that if he takes too long I'll change my mind. Their kindness brings a fresh wave of tears, and I wipe them away. I'm going to be okay-I have amazing people in my life. I don't need Lucas to make things work.
One step at a time. And surely I'll be happy on my own.
After breakfast, I ask Ray, "Is there a pot I can use?" He and Darcy maintain a bountiful herb garden in the back. "Just a small one. I want to plant something."
"But it's fall, love," Darcy points out.
I force a smile. "It's fine if it doesn't survive or do well. I just want to try."
"There's an old terra-cotta pot in the shed," Ray says. "It's pretty small, but if you just want to experiment, it might be enough."
"That'd be perfect. Thank you."
I walk into the shed and see the pot Ray was talking about. It's old and slightly discolored, a sun-faded reddish orange. But it's exactly what I need. I take it to the backyard garden and fill it. Thankfully the pot's small so it doesn't require much time or dirt. I'd hate to leave a big hole.
When I bring it inside, Darcy looks at it curiously. "What are you trying to grow?"
"A very special something," I say.
"A mystery, huh? Well, hope it works. It's such a pleasure to watch something grow and thrive under your care."
"I hope so, too." I speak with more confidence and verve than I've had in days. This little pot is going to make my point crystal clear to Lucas.
At nine thirty sharp, Lucas shows up, knocks on the door and waits. Ray gets up from his armchair, ready to tell him off yet again, but I rise to my feet.
"I'll deal with him."
Ray's eyebrows go up a notch. "You sure?"
"Yes."
"Okay." He stands there, clearly wanting to go with me. "If you need reinforcements, we're right here."
I give him a small smile. "I know. Thank you."
I take the pot and go to the door. Before Lucas can knock again, I open it.
There stands Lucas. A white button-down dress shirt and black slacks look good on him. Some men are made by clothes, but Lucas isn't one of them. He makes the clothes. But no matter how well cut, they can't hide the weight loss. His facial bones are sharper and starker. Concern stirs inside me, but I quash it immediately.
I don't care, not anymore.
"Ava," he murmurs, his voice low and soothing as though he's afraid to spook me. He wets his mouth. "Are you ready to listen?"
"I'm ready to give you five minutes, but only if you do something first."
"Name it," he says, his Adam's apple bobbing.
I hand him the pot, careful not to let our hands brush. I don't think I could bear it if we touched skin-to-skin. "Take this."
He does, eyeing it warily. "What is it?"
"I want you to take care of it for the next two weeks."
"Then what?"
"Then bring it back."
His squints slightly. "Is this some kind of test?"
"If you want to think of it that way … Sure."
"All right." He's having a hard time deciding whether to look at me or the pot. "What is it? A tulip? Some kind of herb?"
I shake my head. "Just take care of it for two weeks. You'll know."
"And then I get my five minutes?"
"Absolutely."
He studies me as though he's looking for some kind of trick. I stare back, willing him to not see how much I'm bleeding inside. It feels like I'm cutting off my own arm, but I have to do this in order to be free to move on.
"Fine. I'll be back at nine thirty a.m. two weeks from now." He lifts the pot. "With this baby."