A Home Like Ours by Fiona Lowe (feel good books .txt) 📕
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- Author: Fiona Lowe
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Jade stared at her, eyes wide. ‘You were homeless?’
‘For six long and terrifying months.’
She expected a barrage of questions about why and how, but then she remembered Jade’s stories about childhood evictions and her grandmother.
‘So that’s why you’re so passionate about the tiny houses,’ Jade said. ‘Makes sense.’
‘Exactly. And I’m thinking that as Corey’s AWOL—’
‘A what?’
‘AWOL. It’s an army term meaning absent without leave. Anyway, at the moment he probably isn’t giving you any money so my rent’s helping you balance your budget, right?’
Jade grimaced. ‘Corey doesn’t give me much even when he’s here.’
Helen bit down on her automatic criticism of the rat bastard. ‘I was thinking, instead of fighting each other on everything, let’s be a team.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘At the moment, the only thing we’re sharing is the rent. I think it will work better if we share more. You know, like a kitty?’
‘I don’t want a cat.’
Helen smiled. ‘I meant why don’t we both put money into a shared purse, a kitty, to buy food? We can plan our meals together, shop together and share the cooking. We’ll save money.’
‘You mean like a family?’
‘I suppose I do.’
‘But you don’t like Milo.’
Air rushed out of her lungs as if she’d been punched. ‘I don’t dislike him.’
Jade’s gaze narrowed. ‘If you don’t dislike him, why do you ignore him?’
‘I don’t ignore him.’
‘You pretty much do.’
‘You’re his mother. I didn’t want to stand on your toes.’
Jade snorted. ‘You’ve told me how to do everything else, so why’d you stop there?’
Helen’s heart raced. It was one thing to admit to being homeless to a young woman who understood hardship. It was another thing completely to talk about why she found dealing with young children difficult.
‘You do a great job with Milo, Jade.’
The shock on the young woman’s face tore a piece of Helen’s heart.
‘Thank you,’ Jade said eventually. ‘It’s the hardest job I’ve ever done.’
Helen thought of Nicki. ‘And it always will be.’
CHAPTER
26
Tara slowed at the sixty sign on the outskirts of Boolanga and her phone, denied access to mobile reception for the last fifteen minutes, buzzed incessantly. She sighed as the bonds of responsibility tightened around her. A year ago, she’d have thought a spa day was an escape from her life. Now it was a solo drive to and from an appointment with Lorraine, the counsellor Donna had suggested she talk to about the challenges of being a carer. ‘It’s a safe environment where you can be honest about your feelings without any fear of upsetting Jon,’ she’d said.
Only instead of discussing carer issues and Parkinson’s, Tara had found herself talking about the gang and how much she missed her mother. She couldn’t tell if it had helped or just made her sadder. She wasn’t sure she’d return. Her life already seemed like a continuous round of appointments without adding in one that unsettled her.
She pulled into the supermarket car park and switched off the ignition before picking up her phone. There was a new excursion form for Flynn on the school app. Jon had emailed the agenda for the staff meeting, and there was a calendar reminder for the book group book she hadn’t read and the meeting she didn’t want to attend.
The phone beeped again and the sender’s name bubbled agitation in her veins before spreading surprise, embarrassment and regret. She hadn’t shared any communication with Zac in weeks—not since Jon’s diagnosis. Why was he contacting her now? Her finger moved cautiously over the text as if she expected it to explode in her face.
Hey, Tara. Hope you and your husband ROK? I get you’re not training ATM. If you want to run with a friend, just text. Your mate, Zac
A droplet of water hit the screen and she wiped it away before realising it was a tear. She didn’t know if she was crying because Zac had been thinking of her and Jon, or if it was the invitation to run. Either way, he was the first person outside of their medical and allied health care team to offer her anything, even if finding time to run was now impossible.
She blew her nose and called Jon. ‘Hi. How are things?’
‘You checking up on me?’
‘No,’ she lied.
‘Good. Because I’m good.’
Her heart ached at his flat and weary voice. Since the disastrous brunch, he’d gone very quiet. Too quiet. It was as if he didn’t want to discuss what had happened in any detail. She assumed, like her, he was grappling with their friends’ apparent lack of understanding of how their lives had not only been turned upside down, but would never return to what they’d previously known as normal. Neither the Stevensons nor the Kvants had requested any further information about Parkinson’s, although Kelly had sent a couple of messages to the WhatsApp group with a vague enquiry about the date of their next get-together. Tara wasn’t putting her hand up for that any time soon.
‘I thought we could have early dinner tonight,’ she said. ‘Can you be home by five thirty?’
‘Why? I told you I’m fine.’
‘And I heard you. This is about the kids. They need a normal night at home with both of us, so I thought early dinner then games.’
It was true, but it also got Jon home so he didn’t get overtired.
‘Good idea. Do we have any C batteries for Uno Attack?’
‘I’m at the supermarket so I’ll grab some. See you soon.’
‘Love you, T.’
‘Love you too.’
She slid her phone into her handbag and walked into the supermarket, grabbing mince to make the kids’ favourite—spaghetti bolognaise with garlic bread. Not that she felt like cooking, but between the barrage of medical appointments and her working full-time, they’d eaten too many frozen dinners and takeaway food. It was time to find a new normal, whatever the hell that was.
When she arrived home, she carried the shopping bags straight to the kitchen and was met by the aroma of onions, tomatoes and spices. Her
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