Last One Home Read online

  They drove to the shelter, and Cassie walked Maureen inside. She glanced at her watch and saw that she was already late for work. Maureen seemed reluctant to let her go. “Will I see you this evening?” she asked, following Cassie back to the door.

  Cassie knew Maureen needed her, but she would be doing the other woman a disservice if she allowed her to become too dependent. Maureen blocked the entrance to the shelter, her look imploring Cassie to stay with her.

  “I’ll be back later,” Cassie assured her.

  “You promise?”

  How needy she sounded, uncertain and afraid, looking at Cassie with wide eyes, full of fear, fear of the unknown, fear of the future. Cassie knew about that, too. Leaving Duke had required grit and raw courage, but everything afterward had as well.

  “You promise,” Maureen repeated.

  “I promise, but for now I need to get to work.” Cassie had a job, one that supported her and Amiee. She worked as a hairstylist at a local salon in a quaint community in the south end of Seattle known as Kent. The shelter had supported her while she got the training she needed, and in exchange she’d worked at the shelter, cleaning and cooking. It’d taken her five years following her divorce to crawl out of the black hole that had become her life while married to Duke. Thankfully, she hadn’t seen or heard from Duke since that fateful day when she’d testified against him in a Florida courtroom.

  By the time Cassie arrived at work, every chair at Goldie Locks was filled, with the exception of Cassie’s. Working as an independent contractor, Cassie paid Teresa Sanchez, the shop owner, a rental fee for the hair station. This meant she was responsible for paying for her own products, setting her own schedule, building up a clientele, and, probably the most difficult, setting aside money each quarter to pay the state business tax and her federal income tax.

  “Mrs. Belcher is here for her haircut,” Rosie, the receptionist, mentioned as Cassie reached for her protective top. She zipped it into place and grabbed a banana off the fruit bowl in the middle of the table. That would have to do for lunch. The hearing had taken more time than she’d expected.

  “A letter came for you,” Rosie said, as Cassie peeled away the banana’s skin.

  “Here? Really?”

  “The envelope is handwritten and has a postmark from Spokane. You know anyone in Spokane?”

  Cassie went still. The only person who would write to her from the Columbia Basin was her older sister, Karen. When Cassie first moved to Kent she’d stayed briefly in the same shelter where Maureen and her children were currently housed. Right away she’d reached out to her older sister in Spokane but explained this was only a temporary address. If Karen wanted or needed to get in touch for now, the best address would be the hair salon where she was employed. Until now Karen hadn’t contacted her.

  Despite efforts to reconnect with her family, Cassie had a tenuous relationship with her two sisters. After a bitter argument with her parents and older sister, Cassie had run away to marry Duke. They had never forgiven her for leaving the way she did and for not contacting them afterward. Little did they know …

  “It’s in back. Do you want me to get it for you?” Rosie asked.

  “Not now.” It amazed her how unsettled she felt. The bite of banana seemed to stick in her throat and it took considerable effort to swallow.

  Cassie couldn’t imagine what her sister would have to say to her. Then again, she could. Karen had done everything right. Following graduation, she’d gone on to college, married, and had two perfect children. She’d stayed in Spokane and helped their parents. Their father had died unexpectedly of a brain aneurysm only a few weeks after Cassie had broken free of Duke. She had been penniless and living in the shelter, and there was no possibility of Cassie returning home for the funeral. Her mother and sisters were in shock themselves. Cassie was too proud to explain her circumstances. All her family knew was that she’d left Duke and was living in Florida. When her father died no one had offered to pay her way home, and so she’d remained in Florida and wept alone over the father she loved and hadn’t seen or talked to in nearly eight years.

  Cassie had always been especially close to her father. Of the three girls, she’d been his favorite. He’d been proud of Cassie’s accomplishments, her high grades, the four-year scholarship she’d garnered upon graduation. Then she’d thrown it all away for Duke. Her father had never gotten over her turning her back on that scholarship and marrying Duke. Her sisters, either.

  “Cassie?” Rosie said, breaking into her thoughts. “Mrs. Belcher is waiting.”

  “Yes … I’m sorry.”

  “You looked a million miles away.”

  “I was,” she said, forcing a smile. She left the break room, leaving the banana behind, and collected Mrs. Belcher, who sat in the waiting area, reading the current issue of People magazine.

  “I don’t know any of these people anymore,” she said, when she looked up at Cassie. “Who are these stars, anyway?” She shook her head and set the magazine aside.

  Cassie led her customer to her station and slipped a plastic cape over the older woman’s shoulders, securing it with snaps at the back of Mrs. Belcher’s neck. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long,” Cassie apologized.

  “Not at all,” Mrs. Belcher assured her. “I’m just grateful to get an appointment. You’re always so busy, and Cassie, my dear, just look at how long my hair is. I’m desperate. I can’t do a thing with it. My husband told me this morning that I resemble a shaggy dog, and he’s right.”

  Cassie met the other woman’s eyes in the mirror and smiled. “I’ll take care of that in short order. Now let me take you to the shampoo station.”

  It wasn’t until five o’clock that Cassie had the chance to retrieve her sister’s letter. She stared at the envelope several moments before she had the courage to tear it open.

  Inside was a single sheet of paper. Rosie watched as Cassie read the letter. It didn’t take her long.

  “Well?” Rosie asked. The receptionist was the salon owner’s cousin and not the least bit shy about asking awkward questions.

  “This is the first time Karen has reached out to me since my divorce,” Cassie said, unable to tear her gaze from the letter.

  “Do you think your sister wants to mend fences?” Rosie asked, lowering her eyes toward the printed page as if hoping to read a few lines herself.

  “I don’t know.” Cassie wasn’t getting her hopes up.

  Rosie’s dark, expressive eyes widened. “Are you mad at her?”

  “I was never angry with her,” Cassie explained. Once Cassie had left the women’s shelter, her first thought had been to go home. She’d contacted her family, needing financial help. Grief-stricken, dealing with the aftermath of her husband’s sudden death, Sandra Judson, Cassie’s mother, had asked Karen and Nichole to answer Cassie’s plea.

  According to Karen, who spoke for both her and Nichole, neither sister was financially able to help. Karen’s husband had gone through a period of unemployment and they were barely making it. And Nichole had recently married and wasn’t in a position to be lending anyone money. The bottom line was that Cassie had made her own bed and it was up to her to climb out of it.

  As for their mother, she was completely overwhelmed dealing with the insurance company and attorneys. The death of their father had been unexpected, and she, too, was under a financial strain.

  When Cassie had defied her family and married Duke, her father had predicted that one day she’d come crawling home. At the time, he’d been angry and upset. But Cassie figured he was right—she’d gotten into this mess all by herself. So she’d better be able to get herself out of it, too. With no help from her family, Cassie had struggled for years, working odd jobs, living on food stamps and in government housing, and eventually getting her certificate in cosmetology. Only then, after working a year in Florida, did Cassie have the means to return to the West Coast. For safety reasons, Cassie chose to move to the Seattle area. If Duke were ever to look
for her, it would be in Spokane, not South Seattle.

  Despite her brave front, Cassie had been hurt and angry to have been abandoned by her family. In the years she’d lived with Duke she’d held on to the hope that if she found the courage to leave she could rely on them. That had been an empty dream. She’d been foolish, and it seemed that in her family’s eyes, what she’d done was unforgivable. Cassie had been living in Washington state for two years and this was the first time that either of her two sisters had reached out to her.

  It felt as if the letter was hot enough to burn her fingers. Cassie had been waiting a long time for this moment. She’d been eighteen and pregnant when she’d run away with Duke. Now, at thirty-one, Cassie was wise beyond her years.

  Chapter 2

  Cassie’s tiny two-bedroom apartment was walking distance from the school where Amiee attended seventh-grade classes. It was hard to believe her twelve-year-old daughter was in junior high.

  By the time she finished with the last hair appointment of the day, Cassie was tired. She’d been up since four that morning and the day had run her ragged both physically and emotionally.

  “I cooked dinner,” Amiee announced proudly, when Cassie walked in the door.

  “Great. What are we having? Cordon bleu? Steak Diane? Don’t tell me you made my all-time favorite … lasagna.”

  “Mom,” Amiee groaned. “I don’t know how to cook any of that stuff. I made tuna casserole, only I tried to do it on the stovetop ’cause the oven doesn’t work.”

  Cassie had complained to the landlord, not that it’d done her any good. The stove was on the fritz, the faucet leaked in the bathroom, and there was only intermittent hot water that went from hot to freezing cold without warning, most often when Cassie’s head was covered with shampoo.

  “I saw a recipe on YouTube and it looked pretty easy,” Amiee explained as she stirred the pot. She beamed with pride at being able to cook dinner, and Cassie was pleased that Amiee took the initiative.

  Cassie flopped down on the sofa and removed her shoes before she rubbed feeling back into her toes. Next paycheck she’d get new shoes. Her current ones hurt her feet.

  “How did the court case go with Maureen?” Amiee asked, as she continued to stir the pot.

  “Really well.” Cassie had gotten the phone call shortly before she left the salon. Lonny had been sentenced to a one-year prison term with a $5,000 fine. He wouldn’t be bothering Maureen for a long time. “Maureen and her children are safe.”

  Amiee studied her mother. “That’s good! Right?”

  “Very good.” Cassie set her feet on the coffee table and leaned her head back to momentarily close her eyes. She didn’t dare let herself drift to sleep, although it was a tempting thought. After dinner she’d visit Maureen and then help Amiee with her homework. “How was school today?”

  “Okay, I guess.”

  “Anything important happen?”

  Amiee shrugged. “Not really. Claudia posted an ugly picture of Bailey on Facebook and then Bailey got mad and they wanted me to take sides. But I didn’t and then Bailey put a snarky comment about Claudia on Twitter that went all over school and then Mr. Sampson got involved and called both mothers to the school.” She paused and released a drawn-out sigh. “Do you want to hear more?”

  “Not really.”

  “I don’t blame you. The whole thing was cool.”

  “Cool?”

  “Bogus. Cool can mean a lot of things now, Mom, more than just … cool.”

  “Right. It’s hard to keep up with it all,” Cassie said, doing her best not to smile, as her daughter was completely serious.

  “I like Claudia, but Bailey is my BAE.”

  “Your what?”

  “My BAE. My best friend. Before Anyone Else. Get it?”

  “Oh.” It was getting more difficult to keep up with her daughter.

  Amiee brought down two mismatched plates from the cupboard and set them on the table and then carried over the pot with tuna casserole and placed it in the middle. “You ready to eat?”

  “Ready and able.” Cassie’s half-a-banana lunch had long since left her starving. She moved from the couch to the table and noticed that the tuna casserole resembled a thick soup more than a casserole. From the time she was young, Cassie hadn’t been fond of canned tuna fish, but she didn’t have the heart to mention it to Amiee, who couldn’t get enough of it. Her daughter’s all-time favorite food, however, was KFC. Cassie swore her daughter would eat an entire bucket of chicken by herself if given the opportunity.

  They sat across from each other, and after a brief prayer, Cassie dished up her plate. “This looks good.”

  “Mom, you don’t need to say that. The sauce is runny and I overcooked the noodles. It looks awful, but at least I tried.”

  “Honey, I came home to a cooked dinner; I’m not going to complain. Besides, while it might not look like much, it tastes great.” A slight exaggeration, but one that was warranted.

  Amiee tried to hide how pleased she was. “So,” she said, looking across the table at her mother, “how was work?”

  “Good.”

  “Sorry, Mom, you can’t answer with one word—remember the rule. It’s got to be more than good or okay. We need to communicate. Isn’t that the word you used?”

  “Right.”

  Amiee wagged her index finger like a pendulum. “No one-word answers, Mom.”

  “Okay, give me a minute to think. I was late for my appointment to cut Mrs. Belcher’s hair, but she didn’t mind. Oh, and I got a letter from my sister.” Was it a mistake to mention it, especially in light of the unfriendly tone?

  Right away Amiee’s eyes brightened. “Which one?”

  “Karen.”

  “The one who lives in Spokane?”

  Cassie nodded. Her daughter had a fascination with the aunts, uncles, and cousins she’d never met. Karen lived not far from the very home where they’d all been raised, and Nichole lived in Portland, Oregon.

  “What did she say?” Amiee asked excitedly.

  Cassie was sorry she’d mentioned the letter now. Her daughter wouldn’t understand the family dynamics with Cassie and her two sisters. Furthermore, it would be much too difficult to explain. “Not much,” she murmured, hoping to avoid details.

  “Is she coming to visit, because she can sleep in my room and I can meet my cousins and they can sleep on the couch and I’ll sleep on the floor in a sleeping bag and we can watch movies and pop popcorn and stay up all night and talk and get to know each other. Cousins do that, you know. Bailey has a cousin who lives in Gig Harbor and she spends a lot of weekends with her. They’re BFFs. Wouldn’t it be cool to have a cousin who’s your BFF?” All this came out in one giant breath.

  “Your BAE?” Cassie teased.

  “That would be so cool,” Amiee said, sighing.

  How Cassie wished life were that simple. Unwilling to disillusion her daughter, she made up an excuse why it was impossible for the families to get together. “Unfortunately,” Cassie said, “my sister Karen has an important job with a title company and she can’t take time off work, so she probably won’t be visiting Seattle anytime soon.”

  “Oh.” Amiee’s shoulders sagged with disappointment. “What did her letter say?”

  It could be a mistake to mention this, but Cassie did anyway. “She basically said she had something for me, but she didn’t say what and she said I should call her since she lost my phone number.”

  “Did you?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Mom,” Amiee cried in a high-pitched half-moan. “What are you waiting for? Call your sister!”

  “I will.” Cassie needed to think about this before she placed the call. It was those difficult family dynamics again. It didn’t help that Karen had made it perfectly clear that as far as she was concerned, Cassie had burned her bridges with the family.

  “Call her, Mom.” Amiee insisted. “Why would you even hesitate? This is your sister. Do it.”

  “But K
aren’s probably just getting home from work and busy with dinner. Her daughter is only ten and is likely not as helpful in the kitchen as you,” she said, grinning.

  “Can we visit her?” Amiee asked next.

  This was a tricky question, too, and Cassie had to be careful how she answered. “Not for a while, I’m afraid. Our car, old and run-down as it is, would never make it to Spokane.”

  Amiee was instantly unsettled. “I hate that car,” she cried. “It’s so old it should be in a museum. We could probably sell it for lots of money as an antique.”

  “It gets me to and from work, so I’m not complaining.” Although, with more than 250,000 miles on it, how much longer her Honda would last was a major concern. Cassie was convinced heavenly intervention was the only reason the car continued to run.

  “Call your sister, Mom. Please.” Amiee folded her hands as if she was in church and praying. “It’s not right that I’ve never even met my cousins.”

  “Okay, okay.” Deep down, Cassie wanted to speak to her sister, but she was afraid. Until now, Karen had made it clear she’d prefer it if Cassie kept her distance. The letter she’d received hadn’t been written out of love. She wasn’t entirely sure what had prompted her sister to write it, but Cassie had the feeling she’d find out soon enough.

  Even now, all these years later, Cassie remembered fighting with Karen. They had the same argument often. Her mother had told Karen to cook dinner so that Cassie could practice the piano. Then later, after Nichole had set and cleared the table, their father had asked Karen to wash dishes while Cassie played for him. He claimed listening to Cassie play helped him to relax.

  That night Karen and Cassie had gotten into a huge fight.

  “You’re spoiled rotten.” Karen had hurled the words at her like a World Series pitch right through the strike zone.