proud of me, continuing our family the way we have. Nicolette has her days, but she’s a good girl mostly. Nothing like mama. The boys are growing into their own ways. They understand their duty to Nicolette. Elijah is still a little softer than he should be, but I try not to hold it against him. Daddy was like that too. He gave in to Mama a few times when he shouldn’t have, but he righted himself and got us back on track. Elijah takes after him.
The cashier puts her magazine down and hops off her stool when I get to the counter. She gathers up the cans and starts scanning them. Her nails are painted a soft pink, but the edges are chipped.
“Do you chew on your nails?” I ask as she reaches closer to me to get a can of peaches.
Her cheeks redden, and she keeps her gaze down as she runs the can over the scanner. “Yeah. It’s a horrible habit,” she says, grabbing the bag of carrots. Nicolette needs to start planting more veggies in her garden. We’ve already gone through what little harvest she had. I can’t come down the mountain every week for this stuff.
“Shouldn’t you be in school?” I ask. Not that I would ever send one of my kids to that prison. They learn everything they need at home. No need to fill their head with useless bullshit. But most families haven’t learned the right way to raise their kids, so I’m sure she’s part of the system.
“Nah.” She shakes her head, her short bangs brushing against her soft brown eyebrows. “I dropped out last year. I needed to work.” She takes the roast and taps some numbers into her screen.
“Times can be hard,” I say, watching her little tongue flick over her lip. Such a sweet thing, this girl.
“Yeah, they can,” she agrees, picking up the dress and scanning the paper tag. “You work here in town? I don’t see you that often.”
“Nah. I run a homestead. Been in my family a few generations, so we’ve got almost everything we need.” I push the pregnancy tests toward her when she hesitates.
“For your wife?” she asks hesitantly, curious but not sure if it’s rude to ask.
“No, my wife left us a long time ago.” Madeline had her choice fall in line or get put down. It was unfortunate she took after our mama and stopped being a good woman. Putting her down was hard, but I had to do it. There was no other choice. Once a woman decides to be a bad wife and a bad mother, she’s got to be put down.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She scans the first box.
“These are for my daughter,” I tell her as she picks up the second.
She pauses. “You don’t look old enough to have a daughter old enough—shit, I’m sorry. That was super rude.” Her cheeks erupt in a blush.
Maybe to her standards thirty-seven is too young to become a grandfather, but popular standards leave families broken and unloved.
I crack a smile to keep her at ease. “It’s okay. Though, I take more offense to the cursing.” I hand her the last test. “Good women don’t curse,” I say firmly.
Her eyes lower. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Her contrition hits me in the gut. She’s a good girl, just a little lost. I bet she doesn’t have a daddy or any strong man in her life to guide her. She can’t be blamed if she hasn’t been taught.
“Carrie, when you’re done here, go on and take your break.” A man only a few years older than her says from behind me. He’s wearing a nametag with his title of “manager” clearly stated beneath. He’s in charge here. He should have better manners than to interrupt a conversation.
“Thanks, Jeff,” Carrie says with a smile, but I can see it’s fake. At least she’s trying. Her gaze meets mine, and her grin softens. “That will be thirty-seven-fifty.”
I pull my wallet out of my back pocket and dig out the cash for her.
“How long you get for a break?” I ask as she counts out my change.
“An hour. It’s my meal break.” She hands me two dollar bills and drops the quarters into my palm.
“Let me buy you breakfast. The diner across the street is open.” I work the bills back into my worn leather wallet.
She studies me. “Just across the street?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I offer the little bit of respect because she’s been good. And rewards will get us