Midlife Healing and Hijinx ebook

Sample From Midlife Bed and Broomstick
I packed a bag without being aware of what went into it. I was more careful with the dog supplies. While John loaded their beds, dishes, toys, and food into my car, I threw my things together, then collected my meds and purse. Leashed Wilma and Wally and headed out, leaving Robert on the floor in a snoring heap.

John's rusted-out Toyota was parked at the curb. I expected him to head for it. Instead, he took the leashes, loaded Wilma and Wally, and then plucked the keys from my shaking hands. "We're taking your Subaru. And I'm driving."

"Why aren't you in school?" It was February. Classes had resumed two weeks before.
"I'm dropping out," John said. "I decided over Christmas break. I was coming back to tell you when I walked in on...that."

Another time I would have argued with him. Told him he couldn't just throw his life away. He'd worked so hard to get into college. His dyslexia had held him back, but he'd struggled to overcome it. If he was unhappy maybe he could change majors or defer for a year so he didn't throw it all away.

But shame made me hold my tongue. That he had seen his father manhandling me. Smack me. Demean me. Who the hell was I to tell my son anything about how to live? Not exactly a sterling role model for the next generation.

"Where will you go?" I asked instead.

He gave me a sidelong glance. "We are going to North Carolina."

We. I began shaking my head. "John, I can't."

He sighed as though he were the parent and I was being a particularly difficult child. "Mom—"

"You don't understand. He's usually not like that."

My son held up a hand. "Do not defend him."

"I can't leave. I have no medical insurance." He didn't understand. He was young and healthy.

And then the rest of his statement registered. "You said North Carolina? John, no."

He shot me a look. "Why not?"

"Because." Once upon a time that had been good enough. Because I was his mother. Because I had been there and John hadn't. Because I was the grown-up and I said so. "It's complicated."

"You always said Alba was nice to you after Uncle Ray died."

"She was." Alba Moss was the quintessential grandmotherly type and for one amazing summer, she had taken me under her wing. She ran a B&B in the Outer Banks and I'd helped out with cooking and cleaning.

It had felt like home. Right up until it hadn't.

His hands clenched on the steering wheel. "Alba messaged me on Facebook. Said we could come down any time. That we were always welcome at her place."

That sounded like Alba. She loved technology and took to social media like a duck to water. Though she must be pushing seventy, nothing would intimidate the small Southern belle.
I would love to see Alba. But if he was there....

"You should go." I turned to John and touched his hand. "You would love the place. It's a great location to figure out your next move. Very peaceful."

"I won't let you go back to him." John's voice held a note of finality. "Not now, not ever. So you might as well try to get some rest. It's going to be a long trip."

I turned in my seat and scratched Wilma behind the ears. Wally nudged at my hands and gave me a few comforting licks. There was no sense in arguing with John. He was just as stubborn as his father.

I didn't want to go back. Maybe he wouldn't be there. He was a grown man after all. He could have moved away. Gotten married. He probably had a passel of kids by now. He'd said he'd always wanted them.

Though my lip had stopped bleeding, the side of my face throbbed. The bruise would be massive. My winter-pale skin would show it like nobody's business. Damn Robert. That was the first time he'd hit me somewhere I couldn't cover it up. A weird sick part of me was sorry that he wouldn't get a chance to see the aftermath his temper had wrought. He was always contrite afterward. But no matter what I told John, I didn't want to go back. I needed to.
I'd have to find another home for my pups. No way could I bring them back into the house. It wasn't safe.

The steady thrum of the tires speeding down the highway lulled me. I woke when John stopped for gas and took the dogs for a bathroom break on a little grassy patch behind the convenience store. My bladder was screaming. After loading the dogs, I scurried inside, pulling the hood of my sweatshirt up to disguise my face.

"Can I have the key to the restroom?" I asked the teenage girl with the bubble gum pink streaks in her blond hair that stood behind the counter.

She set her phone aside and reached for the key. Her hand paused as she caught sight of my face. "Oh, wow. Are you okay?"

I didn't like the reflection of myself I saw in her eyes. An older woman, battered and hunched. With bladder control issues. Aging gracefully was not as advertised.

"The key, please?"

I saw her gaze dart from me to where John stood by the SUV. "Do you need help?"
I let out a frustrated breath. "I need to piss like a racehorse and unless you give me the damn key, I'll do it right where I'm standing."

She thrust the key at me.

"Thank you. And believe me, I already have more than enough help."

Everyone wanted to be a big damn hero.

The trip from the Albany area to the Outer Banks was over six-hundred-miles. Ten and a half hours straight through, but longer with traffic and frequent stops. We left New York and got onto the Jersey Turnpike somewhere around midnight. I offered to drive part of the way through Delaware, but John refused. He probably thought I would turn around if he took a few minutes to rest.

Instead, he drank coffee that he snagged from fast food windows as well as the highly processed garbage that smelled divine.

"You sure you don't want anything?" he asked at the second such stop.

"My body can't handle processed food," I said. I'd been toying with the idea of going vegetarian for a while. Meat didn't taste right. Eating lower on the food chain combined with the meds had been helping with my fluctuating energy levels.

But damn, do those salty, greasy, nutritionally bankrupt fries smell incredible.
We crossed the Wright Memorial Bridge just as the sun was rising over the Atlantic. I pressed a hand to the glass, drinking in the sight. Tears stung my eyes. Such a simple thing. When was the last time I'd been able to enjoy a sunrise in peace?

"John," I whispered. "There's something I need to tell you."

"You can't go back, Mom." John glanced at me. He had put his sunglasses on to combat the glare coming off the water. "We'll figure something out with the medical stuff. You know it isn't safe."

"It's not about that. I need to talk to you about your father."

John made a frustrated noise. "Do not make excuses for him."

"Not Robert." I took a deep, fortifying breath and prayed for strength. "Your father is Alba Moss's son. We're going to see your grandmother."

Cougars and Cauldrons
1. Midlife Bed and Broomstick
2. Midlife Hexes and Familiar Exes
3. Midlife Shift and Shenanigans
4. Midlife Passions and Predators
5. Midlife Magic and Malarkey
6. Midlife Healing and Hijinx

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