Fool That I Am Read online

  Fool that i am

  PAULETTE OAKES

  COPYRIGHT © 2013 PAULETTE OAKES

  COPYEDITED BY DEIDRE DAY

  COVER ART BY STEVEN J CATIZONE

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. NO PART OF THIS BOOK MAY BE REPRODUCED, IN PART OR IN FULL, WITHOUT EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION FROM THE PUBLISHER/AUTHOR, EXCEPT BY A REVIEWER WHO MAY QUOTE BRIEF PASSAGES IN A REVIEW.

  ALL CHARACTERS APPEARING IN THIS WORK ARE FICTITIOUS. ANY RESEMBLANCE TO REAL PERSONS, LIVING OR DEAD, IS PURELY COINCIDENTAL. IF YOU THINK YOU SEE YOURSELF IN ONE OF MY CHARACTERS, PLEASE UNDERTAND THAT IS A PERSONAL PROBLEM OF YOURS, NOT MINE.

  AUTHOR NOTES, DEDICATION, AND THANKS

  I want to dedicate this book to all the women who have suffered through disastrous divorces, bothersome break-ups, heart-wrenching heartbreak, or too many Mr. Wrongs. Raise your standards, learn to love yourself, and NEVER give up. I don’t know if there is such a thing as Mr. Right, but there are many Mr. Will Dos just waiting for you to come along. And if you’re lucky, you may just find Mr. Best Friend That Loves You.

  I also want to dedicate this to my three daughters. Love is a complicated, messy, wonderful, and painful part of life. Don’t get caught up in the myth of “soul mates” or “true love.” Real love takes hard work, dedication, effort, and a lot of compromise. You may get it wrong a time or two, but never give up on finding someone who will make you laugh, take your side, overlook your annoying quirks, and will still think you’re beautiful even when you wear granny panties. And if all else fails, just remember that NO ONE will ever love you like your Momma.

  And for MY Momma. Just because I love you.

  SOCIAL NETWORKS AND OTHER BOOKS

  Don’t forget to follow me Twitter! https://twitter.com/pauletteoakes

  Like me Facebook, too, for updates on my new works!

  www.facebook.com/pauletteoakeswrites

  You can also find me on Self-publisher’s Showcase:

  http://selfpublishersshowcase.com/paulette-oakes/

  OTHER BOOKS BY PAULETTE OAKES

  THE GARDEN OF GOOD AND EDEN

  AMARA, INTERRUPTED

  http://t.co/1sdscaJ8gw

  Table of Contents

  AUTHOR NOTES, DEDICATION, AND THANKS

  SOCIAL NETWORKS AND OTHER BOOKS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  EPILOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  No matter how many times she tried, the numbers just wouldn’t add up. Running her hands through her long, shiny brunette hair, she flipped through the stack of bills and double-checked her figures. Maybe if she skipped a payment on the hospital bill this month, deferred a car payment, and got an extension on her cell phone bill, she might be able to make it work. She reworked the figures again and felt marginally better about the outcome. If all the details fell into place, she could pay the electric bill, mortgage, car insurance, daycare, and still have about $100 left for groceries and gas. If she was very careful, at which she had plenty of practice, she should be able to make it to the next payday in two weeks.

  With a grim finality, Billie Jean Hardesty slammed closed the zippered notebook she used to record, store, and budget her monthly bills and pushed her chair back from the scarred oak kitchen table. She sighed heavily and her shoulders slumped as she absently retrieved the Minnie Mouse sippy cup from the floor under the table and took it to the sink to rinse out the dregs of chocolate milk before it could curdle. Her mind raced and worried and brainstormed on how to raise more money in order to alleviate the stress of mounting bills and less income.

  Being a single mom of two awesome kids, Billie knew that she had to do something in order to make ends meet, especially since she was laid off from her job working in a large real estate office that went belly up after years of recession caused them to file for bankruptcy. She had been making a good salary there as office manager, even without having a college degree, because her competence and efficiency had impressed the owner. Unfortunately, real-life experience didn’t count for much without the degree behind it, so she had been forced to take a position as a receptionist in a doctor’s office for half the pay. She enjoyed the work and loved the people and patients she worked with every day, but the cut in pay had been a serious blow to her finances.

  “Mommy?” a small, childish voice called from the kitchen doorway. “I can’t sleep. There’s bad guys in my closet. We need the spray!”

  A weary smile lifted the corners of Billie’s face, even as she silently cursed her ex-husband in her head. Turning off the faucet, she turned to survey the sweet face of her four-year-old daughter, Lola. She was dressed in an old Spiderman Halloween costume of her brother’s and there was a dried smudge of ketchup on her cheek. Her short, blonde curls stuck up in disarray around her head like a disreputable angel’s halo and a ratty pink blankie with ripped satin trim trailed from her left hand.

  Billie quelled the urge to scoop her up and kiss her face until it was raw and replied, “Okay, I’ll grab the Bad Guy Spray and we’ll chase them away. But I promise that there’s no way that a bad guy would dare hide in the closet of Spiderman. That’s what Bubby says and he knows about these things.”

  Giving her a disbelieving look, Lola responded, “Mommy, you are so silly. I am not a Spiderman. I’m a Spidergirl!” With that record set straight, she turned and flounced down the hall toward her bedroom.

  Billie chuckled lightly to herself and grabbed the bottle of fabric freshener spray off the top of the fridge. It had been decorated and colored to proclaim “Bad Guys B Gone!” and it had worked like a charm to convince the little girl that it kept bad guys out of her closet. Ever since her ex-husband, Chad Hardesty, had taken the two kids to see the latest superhero flick, Lola had been terrified of “bad guys.” She had crashed in Billie’s bed for two weeks until the tired mom had searched the internet to find solutions and stumbled upon this idea. It had worked like a charm with the bonus side effect of fresher-smelling clothes for Lola.

  Leaving behind all thought of finances and bills, Billie followed her feisty progeny down the short hall to her bedroom. Even though her rent house was small, it still contained three modest bedrooms and two baths with a charmingly petite backyard complete with a privacy fence, concrete back porch, and a discount swing set. It even had a tree big enough for her eleven-year-old son, Derrick, to climb. She was lucky to have found a rental house within her budget, even in a small town like Rineyville, Kentucky. Since the town was adjacent to Elizabethtown and just ten miles down the road from Ft. Knox, it was difficult to find affordable rentals that weren’t sandwiched into a building with a hundred other apartments. Besides, the elementary school was excellent and the quiet and privacy more than made up for the extra money she had to pay.

  She slipped into the little girl’s room and made her way to the cramped closet that glowed softly through the slats of the wooden door. Pulling open the door, Billie made a big show of pee
ring through the hanging clothes, peeking into the corners, and spraying the lavender-scented spray several times into the closet. The round, adhesive-backed lights that she had purchased at the dollar store dotted the walls and illuminated the recesses valiantly, even if they only lasted for a few short weeks before going dark.

  Stepping back into the pale pink room, Billie turned to face the worried little girl huddling under the Tinkerbell comforter on the twin bed. “Okay, doodlebug, no bad guys in your closet! Time for all superheroes to go to sleep.”

  “Do under my bed, too, Mommy!” Lola insisted, pointing demandingly toward the floor. Obligingly, Billie closed the gap between them and spritzed several times under the bed until her little angel was appeased and lay back down on her pillow. Billie kissed her baby’s cheek, breathed in the smell of strawberry shampoo, and tucked her in tight before turning out the light and making her way to the next bedroom.

  The sound of deep breathing greeting her ears as Billie made her way toward the twin bed where her son had fallen asleep reading a book. Very carefully, she slid the battered copy of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire out of his fingers, marked his place with folded piece of paper, and placed it on the bedside table next to his glasses where he would see it when he woke up. Tenderly, she brushed a lock of light brown hair away from face and leaned down to kiss him while she could get away with it. At the manly age of eleven, he thought he was too old for Mom to kiss and hug him, but she was able to get her fill when he was sleeping soundly. While she was bending that close to him, she rested her ear on his chest to listen to him breathe. No wheezing, thank God. After the terrifying four-day stay in the hospital two months ago, she had been even more diligent than usual in monitoring his asthma. Satisfied that he was breathing normally, she turned off his lamp, and dodged dirty clothes, plastic video game cases, and tennis shoes until she made it safely back to the hall.

  Even though it had already been done once, Billie made the rounds again to ensure that all the doors were locked, windows latched, and strategically-placed lights were still glowing softly. Finally, she made her way back to her own room where she could perform her nightly beauty ritual and slide into bed.

  Staring into the mirror that hung above the sink in her bathroom, Billie studied her face carefully for signs of aging. Even though she had just turned thirty years old and looked like she was still in her twenties, she felt like an old woman most of the time. Most people thought she was beautiful, but Billie didn’t believe the good press. Years of listening to Chad belittle her and critique her for every aspect of her appearance had taken its toll on her self-image and it was hard to see what others saw when they looked at her. Her body was lush and curvy in all the right places with a narrow waist line, full hips, bountiful breasts, and a stomach that was only softly rounded even after two kids. Her skin was creamy and smooth with only the faintest of worry lines forming at the corners of her arrestingly pale green eyes. Her hair, by far her favorite feature, was thick, wavy, and deep brunette. It hung in layers to kiss the bottom of her shoulder blades.

  She rushed through her routine quickly by washing her face and brushing her teeth before wandering back into her bedroom to change into a lightweight nightshirt. Even though it was only 10 pm on a Sunday night, Billie was exhausted and just wanted to lie in bed and read a few chapters of a book before falling asleep. However, after reading the same paragraph over and over without absorbing a word, she finally gave up and turned off the light.

  Even though her body was weary, her mind continued to labor with worry about where she was going to get the extra money she needed to keep her little family afloat. Since Chad worked at his uncle’s windshield glass repair shop for cash, he only had to pay her $250 a month for both kids. Even getting that paltry sum out of him was like pulling teeth and definitely nothing she could rely on to pay her bills. She had sold everything she could in yard sales, on Craigslist, and at the pawn shops until she was down to the bare bones in her home. Her Mom and Dad helped her when she needed it, but she loathed having to ask them for money. Not because they made her feel bad about it, but because she made herself feel bad about it. As a grown woman, Billie felt like it was her responsibility to support herself and her children without having to rely on help from her parents.

  Then there was Sam. Just the thought of him made Billie’s heart squeeze with longing. Sam Garrett was a tall, broad-shouldered, gentle giant of a man with laughing blue eyes, strong arms, and long, thick legs topped off with a perfect behind that made many a grown woman cry. Chad and Sam had been best friends since third grade, so it was only natural that they all became thick as thieves when she and Chad had started dating during their sophomore year in high school. Sam, naturally, had stayed in their lives and was at their house more often than his own over the years. Much to her amusement, her children even called him “Uncle Sam”. Over the years, her friendship with Sam had solidified while her marriage to Chad crumbled. During and after the acrimonious divorce, Sam had refused to take sides and still spent time with both of them. It was a delicate balance, but he made it work.

  In her secret heart of hearts, Billie knew that she had started falling in love with Sam years before her divorce, even though she had refused to acknowledge it for a long time. Her love for Chad had died a little more each time he had received a secret phone call, mysterious texts, and unexplained absences from the home. She knew he had been having affairs, but stubbornly held on and held out for that elusive American dream that she had been promised by books all her life. She had refused to admit that she had failed until shortly after Lola’s birth when Chad’s apathy and indifference to the birth of their surprise daughter killed the last spark of affection for him in her heart.

  But Sam had always been there. He was there for her when Chad “forgot” to show up for the ultrasound and gave her hand a sweet kiss when she found out it was a girl. Sam laughed good-naturedly when Lola spit up on his shoulder or drooled all over his shirt. When Chad was too busy to pick Derrick up from academic team practice, Sam dropped everything to go get him and run him through McDonald’s for a burger and milkshake. And, he was there for Billie, too. He was the first one to show up to help move boxes and furniture in his truck to Billie’s rental house when she and Chad split and he insisted on installing better deadbolts and motion-sensor lights. Boxes of diapers had mysteriously appeared on her doorstep, her gas tank would go from empty one night to full the next morning, and her landlord would call to thank her for paying her rent in advance even though she never wrote a check. Nothing she said would ever deter him from helping her.

  Even after three years of being single, she still had yet to date anyone seriously. Regardless of whom they were or how great they seemed, they were all found wanting when weighed in the balance against Sam. Every man paled in comparison to her friend. On the few occasions that she had slept with someone, she pictured Sam’s face in her mind and wished it was him. Billie was caught in a hell of her own making; she was in love with a man she could never have. His kindness and generosity never even hinted at anything more than friendship and she knew he would never betray his friend by taking up with his ex-wife, even if he were interested.

  So she settled for what she could have: fantasies. Elaborate, sexy, and naughty fantasies starring her and Sam…and sometimes handcuffs. It was the only thing that seemed to take her mind off her problems. Every night, she fell asleep thinking about him and longing for someone she could never have and each morning she woke up knowing she would make it on her own.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “What do you mean my cell phone bill has already been paid?” Billie asked the woman on the end of the line incredulously. She was sitting at the break room table on her lunch break the next day and was using her time in between bites of her PB&J to do damage control on her bills.

  The patient response from the customer service rep on the end of the line replied, “Yes, ma’am, it appears that there was a cash payment made on your account in the
amount of $200. That took care of your past due balance of $68.79, your current balance of $65.42, and leaves a credit balance on your account of $65.79, which should take care of your next bill unless there are overage charges.”

  “But there must be some mistake,” Billie insisted earnestly. “I did not make that payment. I was calling today for an extension. That’s someone else’s payment that was applied to my account by accident.”

  Billie could hear the furious clicking of fingers on a keyboard over the line as the CSR looked further into her account. “No, ma’am, this is your payment. There is a note on the account from the sales associate in the store that a man wanted to know your balance, but she did not give him the information since he wasn’t on your account. He asked if he could pay any amount and have the credit roll over, and the associate told him yes. That’s all the information I see. It appears as if you have a guardian angel, Mrs. Hardesty,” the chipper representative informed her happily.

  “It’s ‘Ms.’ Hardesty,” Billie corrected her absently while her mind raced. “Thank you so much for your time.” She already knew who had paid her bill, but she dutifully typed in her dad’s cell number anyway.

  After several rings, a deep voice answered. “How’s my Billie Jean Queen today?” he boomed across the phone in greeting.

  A warm smile lit up her face upon hearing the old term of endearment. “I’m just fine, Daddy. You and Momma doing alright?” she asked, peeling off the lid of her generic blueberry yogurt.

  “Fair to middlin’, baby, fair to middlin’. What’s going on? The kids alright?” he asked, trying to mask the hint of worry in his voice. As the only child of George and Marla Kincaid, Billie and her kids were the sole recipients of all their worry. Derrick’s hospitalization had done a number on them all and the anxiety it had engendered wouldn’t fade any time soon.