Proof of Innocence. Lenora Worth

paper, which was folded like a greeting card. She read aloud, “‘Good luck, Mom.’” On the front was a drawing of a bouquet of flowers and on the inside the boys had signed their names.

      Josh’s smile reached from ear to ear. “David and I made it with Lauralee last week. We didn’t actually mail it,” he confessed.

      “Thank you, Josh. I love it.” She gave him a hug. She didn’t doubt the card had been his idea. Her boys may have been identical in appearance, but they had different personalities. Josh was more thoughtful than David, whose hardheadedness she knew he’d inherited from her. David kept his emotions to himself most of the time, while Josh was more like his father—open and kind. Tucking the card into her purse, she said, “Can you please go get that brother of yours? We’re going to be late.”

      She checked her watch, noticing the slight trembling of her hand. She didn’t feel nervous about the exam, though she suspected she must be, subconsciously. A lot was riding on this opportunity. She would feel much better about things once it was over. She was the only employee at the Brookhollow store who had completed the course, so she was confident the position would be hers if things went well today.

      Flipping through the rest of the mail only reinforced how much she needed this promotion. The envelope for her power bill was stamped with a huge red Final Notice. The overdue stamp on the cable-bill envelope was smaller—it would have to wait. The boys would lose their minds if the cable was shut off, but sleeping in a cold, dark house would have been far worse. Hopefully, she’d be able to catch up on the outstanding debt in the first half of the new year.

      As she placed a stack of flyers on the edge of the counter for recycling, another envelope fell to the floor. When she picked it up, her heart rate soared—it was from the Brookhollow Trust, her bank. It wasn’t her usual bank statement, which always came in a white envelope, or the mortgage bill, which came in a small tan one. This was a thick, heavy legal-size manila envelope.

      “Ready, Mom!” David announced, appearing in the doorway of the kitchen. He grabbed his backpack and tossed Josh’s to him.

      “Okay, take the keys and go get in the van. I’ll be right out. Don’t forget your hat and gloves.” She returned her attention to the envelope as the boys disappeared down the hall. She waited until she heard the front door close before she opened the mailing. She paused. Did she really need to read this now? Maybe she should wait until the evening. But if she didn’t, it would be on her mind all day, anyway.

      Inside was a copy of the mortgage and a statement summary showing the current balance and payment history. She swallowed hard. Six missed payments that year. Had it been that many? She’d expected two, maybe three, but six? She scanned the missed months. Yeah, six was correct. Money had been tight that year, especially with David needing glasses for school and the front window of the house needing replacing after Josh had thrown a baseball through it that summer.

      She turned to the last page, which was a letter from Jeff Thompson, the bank’s branch manager and a guy she’d gone to school with. Now their boys played together on the same hockey team. Her knees all but gave way beneath her as she read.

      Dear Ms. Myers,

      We regret to inform you that due to the arrears owing on your mortgage, we are obligated to ask for payment to bring your account up-to-date. If you are unable to settle the debt, we will be forced to foreclose on the property as of January 1...

      The letter continued, but that was all she needed to read. They were going to take her house? The room around her began to spin, and the little blue flowers on the outdated wallpaper she’d loved when they first moved in danced around her. She closed her eyes in a desperate attempt to stop the spinning. January 1 was less than a month away. Even with the promotion, she wasn’t sure if she could settle the debt that quickly. Thirty-two-hundred dollars just to bring the payments up-to-date. She folded the letter and slid everything back into the envelope, then hid it under the stack on the counter. She forced herself to take several deep breaths as the van’s horn sounded outside. The exam needed to be her only focus. She would figure this out. She always did. There was no way she was losing her family’s home.

      * * *

      THE STAFF LUNCHROOM in the back of the Play Hard Sports store served as the exam room. Melody and two other management trainees competing for the same position at the Newark store sat in the overheated room waiting to begin. Again, she was relieved there had been no one else interested in the position in the Brookhollow store. The whole process had been stressful enough, and she’d have hated to compete for the promotion. Staring at the closed booklet, she replayed over and over the things she’d studied. Heather had taught her to visualize charts and definitions in order to recall them more easily during the test, but today whenever she closed her eyes, all she saw was the notice from the bank. She forced all thoughts of that morning’s disturbing news away. The exam facilitator, a woman from head office, checked her watch and told them to begin.

      Melody opened the exam booklet and scanned the first section. She felt the tension in her shoulders begin to melt. Product knowledge—her strongest subject. Not only had she worked in the store for eight months, but she also had the advantage of growing up with two athletic brothers. Now her boys were playing on every sports team in town. Sports equipment was something she knew. She flew through the hundred multiple-choice questions quickly, never second-guessing her answers.

      The next section was tougher—questions about the principles of management—but as she skimmed them, images of the cue cards around her house popped into her mind. Thank you, Heather. Furiously, she scribbled detailed responses and even provided examples that weren’t required. Better to give too much in the way of an answer than not enough.

      As she turned to the last section an hour later, she felt her cell phone vibrate. She’d put the cell in her purse, which was sitting on the floor against the chair leg. Who was trying to reach her at twelve-thirty on a Monday afternoon? Everyone knew she was writing an exam at that time. She contemplated not reaching for it...but what if it was an emergency? When the boys weren’t with her, she liked to be available. Lowering her right hand, she slid the zipper open on the purse and glanced down to see the caller ID. Brookhollow Elementary. The boys’ school never called unless they were sick or injured.

      “Um, excuse me,” she said to the exam moderator.

      “Yes?” The woman looked up from the home-and-garden magazine she was reading.

      The other two employees glanced up from their exams.

      “Sorry,” Melody said. “It’s my son’s school. Can I take it outside?” She held the vibrating phone.

      The woman shook her head. “I’m sorry, but if you leave the testing area, you can’t reenter.”

      “Well, can I answer it quickly here?”

      “No.”

      Melody stared at the vibrating phone. She was almost done the exam. Another hour at most. Could the call wait? The exam was too important to mess up, especially now, but family always came first. What was she supposed to do? If she left the exam, she wouldn’t get the promotion and the kids would suffer...but what if one of them were hurt? Damn it. “I’m sorry, I have to take this.” She grabbed her purse and rushed from the room, dropping the unfinished exam on the facilitator’s desk as she passed. “Hello?” she said as the room door closed behind her.

      “Melody?”

      She recognized the school secretary’s voice. “Yes, Amy. Are the boys okay?” She pushed her purse strap up her arm as she rushed down the hockey stick aisle in the showroom toward the front doors.

      “It’s David.” The woman paused.

      If only I could reach through the phone and strangle this woman. “Is he hurt?”

      “No. He’s suspended.”

      Melody struggled to catch the phone as it slipped from her fingers. David was suspended? How was that possible? He was a good kid. Sure, he’d been going through a bit