A Texas-Made Family. Roz Fox Denny

their lives.

      Avoiding her son’s look of dismay, Rebecca picked up Lisa’s pack and set it on the couch.

      Jordan flopped down beside the well-used pack. “Boy, remind me never to bring a girlfriend home.”

      “Ryan is not Lisa’s boyfriend.”

      “Huh! That’s what her friends at school call him. The other girls are jealous. Anyway…what’s wrong with her having a boyfriend? It’s no big deal, Mom. You act like dating is a capital offense.”

      “Dating? Have they been seeing each other at more than those silly baseball games?” Rebecca crossed to the window and tugged aside the drape. A pristine blue Mustang convertible was parked at the curb. Ryan Lane stood beside it with his car keys in his hand, facing the house, chin defiantly elevated. He scowled one final time, before slowly stepping off the curb to climb into his fancy car. With a roar, he drove away.

      What a contrast to her own battered compact, which now languished in a repair shop until she could find the money to bail it out. And didn’t the age and condition of the cars alone underscore the vast difference between that boy’s family and Lisa’s?

      Rebecca let the drape slide through her fingers. She paused as she remembered what else Lisa had said about Ryan’s family—that he didn’t have a mother. It was possible that his father—another single parent—might not be any happier than she was about his son pursuing a girl.

      Moreover if the family was as well off as that convertible implied, Rebecca doubted very much that Mr. Lane would be thrilled with her own situation. “Jordan, do you happen to know Ryan’s father’s first name?” If she had that, Rebecca could phone the man and maybe enlist his help in nipping the fledgling relationship in the bud.

      “Nope. Maybe Lisa knows. So, Mom, are we still gonna eat before you head out, or what?” Jordan asked, eyeing his mother uneasily. “Aren’t you late already?” The fourteen-year-old picked at a frayed sofa cushion before slapping both knees and standing up.

      “Guess there’s nothing stopping me from making BLTs,” he said.

      “I can’t leave like this. I’ll phone Darcy and see if she’ll cover my shift.” All at once, Rebecca felt guilty for the way she’d handled things. She should’ve thought about contacting the boy’s father instead of losing her temper. She could have politely sent Ryan away and then sat down with Lisa to discuss her school counselor’s call. They still needed to do that. When Lisa was calmer, she’d see what hanging out with Ryan was doing to everything she’d accomplished so far. And if she didn’t—then Rebecca could involve Ryan’s father.

      “Fix yourself a sandwich if you want, Jordan. I’m not hungry. I doubt Lisa will be, either.”

      “I’m sorry, Mom.”

      “Jordan, none of this is your fault.”

      “Lisa’s in deep shit, huh? Are you gonna ground her forever?”

      “Jordan, watch your language, please. I…uh…will handle Lisa.”

      “You better not try now, Mom. She’s too upset to hear anything,” Jordan said sagely. “You might wanna wait awhile, so why don’t you just go to work?”

      “Maybe you’re right.” Truthfully, giving up a shift would cost money Rebecca desperately needed to pay for the repairs to the Nissan and the smelly garbage disposal that no amount of disinfectant seemed to help. The kids had no idea how tight their finances were each month. Any unexpected expense meant cutting back someplace else. Subtract a night’s wages and tips and, well, she had no way to cut the budget that much.

      “I really should go in to work tonight,” she said to her son, still waffling.

      “Yeah, the restaurant’s always busy. Mrs. Blackburn might have trouble handling your tables and hers.”

      “I’d better phone Darcy anyway, and let her know I’ll be late. I’ll offer to close for her tonight if she’ll cover my tables until I can get downtown.” Rebecca’s co-worker, Darcy Blackburn, was also a single mom with four young boys. She, too, had trouble making ends meet and would understand kid trouble without asking a bunch of questions Rebecca wasn’t prepared to answer.

      After talking to Darcy, Rebecca knocked softly on Lisa’s door. The crying didn’t lessen, so she tried the knob. She wasn’t surprised to find the door locked. “Lisa, open up. We need to talk before I go to work.”

      “No. Just because you hate men doesn’t mean I have to. You ruined my life. Go away.”

      Rebecca took a breath to respond, then let it out on a sigh. Jordan was right. Lisa wouldn’t listen when she was in this frame of mind. How could she make her daughter, who’d never experienced real hardship, see that a woman needed a good education in case she had to support herself?

      Yes, Rebecca’s marriage had fallen apart, but she didn’t hate men. She just didn’t have time for a relationship. She’d assumed that her kids would look at her as an example and avoid repeating her mistakes.

      Leaning her head against the door, she said, “Jordan’s fixing BLTs. I’m leaving for the restaurant. When I get home, we’ll discuss this further, Lisa.”

      “No, we won’t! You were rude to Ryan. Now he’ll never speak to me again.”

      “Listen up, kiddo. We have rules about schoolwork being a priority. You broke them big-time. Are you aware that your counselor phoned me to say you haven’t handed in some vital assignments, and you’ve slipped from an A to a C in two classes?”

      “I don’t care!” The sobbing intensified. It hurt to hear how broken-hearted her daughter sounded. Rebecca was torn between calling Darcy back and canceling work tonight, or digging deeper and simply attending to duty.

      Just as it had been ever since her divorce fifteen years ago, duty won. Turning away from Lisa’s door, Rebecca pulled a sweater from her closet and ran a brush through her tangled hair.

      “Jordan,” she called from the front door. “I’ll do my best to catch the eleven-twenty bus. I hope I’ll be home by midnight.”

      Her son stepped out of the kitchen, sandwich in hand. “I wish you only had to work at the beauty shop, Mom. Me and Lisa never get to hang with friends. Like Lisa said, we aren’t babies anymore. I don’t understand why you won’t trust us.”

      “I trust you, Jordan. Honey, I work two jobs so that your future, and Lisa’s, will be secure. Be better than mine. You’ll have plenty of time after you get your education to hang out with friends.”

      “Maybe we’d rather have a little fun now.” His eyes remained darkly accusatory as he bit into his sandwich.

      Rebecca had the door open, and she saw her bus lumbering through the intersection, so she had to leave immediately or put Darcy in a bind.

      She hated to go feeling as if she’d failed both her kids. All of this unhappiness had come about in a matter of weeks. Because of that boy—Ryan Lane.

      Maybe Darcy could help her decide whether to contact the boy’s father.

      Running to catch her bus, Rebecca was out of breath when she climbed on and took the first available window seat. The bus was nearly empty, so Rebecca had a seat by herself. The long ride, unfortunately, allowed her too much time to think.

      Had she been wrong to hide so much of her past from her children? They knew she’d grown up in a Mennonite community in Oregon’s Willamette Valley. Once or twice she’d probably mentioned working from dawn to dark in the community orchards and in the sheds, stirring hot vats of apple butter and peach preserves. Maybe she hadn’t been clear enough that leaving the order and her family had had nothing to do with the work, but with the highly restrictive lifestyle. That was why she’d married Jack. They’d both wanted out.

      Lisa and Jordan knew she’d been estranged from her folks since before they were born. They seemed to accept