More Than Enough (A Completed Novella)

CHAPTER 6

Henry stepped out of the dilapidated old building his boss, Jacob, was thinking about buying. Leah ahead of him.

"Have to rewire everything, and I mean everything," Leah said to Jacob. "There's not crap for restoring, electrically speaking."

"Plumbing, too. Have to redo everything. Shit hole." Which was a little harsh, but Henry was feeling harsh. And he was feeling like a jackass, so why not be one?

"Pipe dream, Boss." Leah clapped Jacob on the shoulder.

They kept on talking, pointlessly, in Henry's estimation. This whole thing had been pointless. As pointless as, say, pretending he wasn't all twisted up over how things had gone with Ellen a few nights ago.

The irritating part was that he wasn't wrong. He would never feel right about getting involved with her. It was the stuff she said about her parents, about him being like them, and them all enjoying their misery.

It hit a little close to something. Not the truth, because he didn't enjoy his misery, but he could see how Ellen might think that, and might feel slighted because of it. In a weird, warped way, wasn't that his fault?

He really needed to find a way to stop thinking about this. About her. About the way she'd asked him to kiss her. Please. About how that was the thing he most wanted—and absolutely couldn't allow himself.

He looked over at Jacob and Leah, still chatting away. "You two gonna blab all afternoon? Freezing my balls off." He marched over to the truck, refusing to feel guilty about being a jerk.

He settled himself in the backseat and Leah climbed into the passenger seat.

"What crawled up your butt and died?" she asked, jerking her seatbelt over her lap. "Something young and pretty?"

Henry held on to the bitter retort by sheer force of will. He might be a little grumpy and snarly with his coworkers on occasion, but he did like and respect them.

Leah turned in her seat. "It is young and pretty."

"You want me nosing into your life, Santino?" He crossed his arms over his chest. "And she's not that young," he grumbled.

Leah chuckled. "How young is not that young?"

"What do you care?" Okay, he was starting to fail at not being surly. Luckily, Jacob finally climbed into the driver's seat and Leah looked straight ahead.

Best to focus on business. "You're not going to offer on it, are you, boss?"

Jacob made a noncommittal sound.

"Oh, damn it, Jacob. Why on Earth would you make an offer on it?" Leah demanded.

He shrugged. "Sometimes you gotta take a chance."

Leah groaned, but the words lodged uncomfortably in Henry's brain. A chance. No. There were no chances when it came to Ellen. It was too wrong.

But the idea was there, and he couldn't quite get rid of it.

*

Ellen stood in front of her childhood home, a pretty, well-kept two-story in the middle of one of the nicer areas of Bluff City. The neighborhood had changed subtly over the years, except for this place.

There were happy memories here and she wanted to remember those, but all the unhappy snaked around her heart.

It was why she hadn't even moved permanently back to Bluff City until now. Unhappiness lived here.

Unfortunately, unhappiness had lived in Philadelphia, Chicago, Baltimore and Seattle, too. She kept moving, but it always dogged her eventually.

So she'd come back. After everything Henry had told her, she didn't have a clue as to why. Home was just a bunch of pain.

But she'd bought a house. She'd made a commitment. If her parents refused to find happiness, if Henry refused to allow himself some happiness, well, that didn't mean she had to ignore her own.

She forced herself to move up the walk. Then she stood on the stoop and stared at the door. Go right in or knock? Always such a dilemma.

In the end, she did both. Knocked, then gingerly pushed the front door open.

"Ellen. You're home." Mom's smile was pretty and wide and for a few seconds, Ellen allowed herself to hope. Hope it would go better than the last few times.

"Hi, Mom. Hope you don't mind me stopping by unannounced."

"Well, I was working on the forums." Mom pointed to her computer. The last few years she'd started moderating grief forums online. In some ways, Ellen was glad it gave her something to do, somewhere to go with her grief.

In other ways, though, perhaps selfish ways, it would always make her feel like she wasn't enough. Much like the entire house did. A shrine to Ken with his pictures everywhere. Couches fading with age, curtains out of date and tired looking. It didn't match the stately outside of the house at all, but heaven forbid they change anything since Ken's life had left this house.

It might as well be a tomb, really. Ellen swallowed and forced out an apology. "Sorry."

"It's all right. I didn't even know you were coming home until Christmas."

"I decided to move up the trip a bit. Where's Dad?"

"Phoenix until Friday."

"Ah."

Uncomfortable silence settled over the room, so Ellen pressed forward. She had plans. She was going to enact them. She was going to live.

"Does Mrs. Armstrong still have that bakery on Main Street? I didn't see it when I was down there."

"Oh, yes, she just moved to a better part of town." Mom's eyes drifted toward her computer and Ellen wondered if it was possible to shrink from the inside out.

"Remember when she offered me a job the last time I was home? I thought I could take it. If she's still interested in having an apprentice."

"I'll ask. Does this mean you're staying?"

Ellen smiled. Mom almost sounded excited. "Yup. I even…put an offer in on a house." Little white lies wouldn't hurt, right?

"Wonderful. You'll be able to visit Ken more often. It's a lot of work keeping his space cleared and filled with flowers. Those groundskeepers at the cemetery are worthless."

Like the movie she'd watched with Henry the other night, it reminded her of the dance recital. They couldn't leave Ken's side. Even when he was dead.

"I should go."

"Where are you staying, sweetie?"

"With a friend." A flat out lie. She didn't feel much like caring at the moment. "I'll call before I come next time so I don't interrupt."

"All right, honey. See you later."

Ellen stood by the door blinking back tears. Ken's pictures littered the mantle. Ken's ghost choked the air out of the living room that hadn't changed in fourteen years.

And she was invisible in the midst of it.

She'd promised herself she wouldn't run away this time, but she was beginning to think it was a promise she'd have to break.