Life's Surprises

By Jackie Calhoun

An after-work walk to clear her mind was what Mallory Kerrigan intended, but spotting Caitlyn Goodwin on the river trail interrupts her plans. At work she had watched as a distraught Caitlyn signed over the deed of her house to her ex-husband. Caitlyn’s finances are none of Mallory’s business, but she strikes up a conversation anyway.

Their long conversation begins a friendship and their compatibility leads the divorced Mallory to propose that Caitlyn and her son move in with Mallory and her two kids to share expenses. It seems an ideal arrangement—except to Zoe, who is no happier about sharing her house than she is about her parents’ divorce.

But life is full of surprises...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bella Books
• Release date: Dec 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9781594938443

Jackie Calhoun

Jackie Calhoun is the author of nine romantic, life-driven novels published by Bella Books; the semi-autobiographical Crossing the Center Line, and ten novels from Naiad Press. Calhoun lives with her partner in Northeast Wisconsin.

Book preview

Chapter One

Mallory

Mallory Kerrigan had already looked through the loan papers. The husband earned a six-digit salary, and since he was the one taking over the mortgage, there would be no problem. Half of the equity would be transferred into Caitlyn Goodwin’s newly acquired savings account.

Mall glanced at Caitlyn, who was obviously upset—eyes red and puffy, hands tightly clenched. Did the loss of his income frighten her more than the loss of the man next to her? She knew from the original loan papers that Caitlyn was an assistant at Golden Age Nursing Home with an annual income of $25,000.

Brad Goodwin glanced at his watch and scowled at the quitclaim deed that lay in front of Caitlyn awaiting her signature. Mall knew there was no way this woman could afford the house, which was in a new subdivision on the north side of the Fox Cities. The monthly payments were more than her monthly salary.

She felt a familiar ache in her chest when Caitlyn picked up the pen. Did she love this house? Did she still love the man next to her? Mallory and her ex-husband had divorced less than a year ago after seventeen years of marriage. However, she had kept the house—a fifteen-hundred-square-foot, two-story Cape Cod in a less-than-affluent neighborhood.

Caitlyn signed the deed. There, she said, glancing at her ex-husband. Perhaps this was the last thing they would do together, Mall thought. She hoped the woman had gotten a good settlement. She assumed it was Brad who wanted to end the marriage.

She transferred $35,000 from Brad Goodwin’s account to his ex-wife’s and gave them each a receipt. After making copies of the quitclaim deed, she stood and shook their hands. Thank you both for staying with First Community.

As the couple exited the building, the sun shone briefly on Caitlyn’s shoulder-length hair, turning it a fiery red. Attractive woman, Mallory thought, before greeting her next customers—a young couple looking for a loan to purchase their first home.

At the end of the workday, Mallory pulled into the garage and was greeted at the side door by the cat. She flipped on lights as Mr. Orange rubbed against her dark slacks, leaving a trail of hair.

Get on your box, you furry monster. Stop that. She gently pushed him away with a foot, and he jumped onto the cardboard box that had once held toilet paper. He rolled around on his back, purring, while she brushed his coat.

Are you hungry? she crooned. How was your day and where is our girl? She cleaned the hair out of the tines of the brush, poured a small amount of Science Diet on his plate and set it down. Always take care of your animals first, she said, as her mom had said to her when it was time to feed the horses or dogs. The horses and dogs were long gone—the horses sold after she and her sister left home, the dogs dead of old age. She’d never imagined she’d end up with a crooked-tailed cat that slept tucked up against her, his head on her arm.

Only then did she go to her bedroom to change into jeans and a T-shirt. She sat on the queen-size bed and phoned her daughter, getting only her upbeat voice mail. You’ve reached Zoe’s cell. Leave a message. I’ll call you back.

Hey, Zoe. This is your mom. Where are you?

This was the part she missed most about marriage—someone to talk to. She hadn’t realized how lonely it would be. She thought of the redheaded woman, Caitlyn, and wondered if she had kids and whether they blamed her for the divorce and whether she was lonesome.

Zoe was still angry with her parents. When Mall and David told the kids they were divorcing, Zoe had begged them not to or at least to wait until she was out of school. When she couldn’t stop the divorce, her grades plummeted and she stopped confiding in her mother. Mall had asked David if Zoe ever talked to him about how she felt, and he’d said no.

Their daughter spent most of her time with Robyn Mueller, her best friend. Robyn and her mom were members of Jesus Christ Our Savior, the big fundamentalist church out on the beltway. They disapproved of Mallory’s divorce—as if it was any of their business. Robyn was no longer allowed to come into Zoe’s house. When she and her mother picked Zoe up, June Mueller blew the horn. Just thinking about it pissed Mallory off. No wonder Zoe had been so desperate about the impending divorce.

David had rented an apartment a few blocks away. Their son, Mike, lived with his father, spending every other weekend with Mall. She’d thought the ache of loss would consume her when Mike made the choice. It had been the worse part of the divorce. Lately, though, he’d been spending more time in his old room than at his dad’s. She wondered if David was lonely too when he came home to empty rooms.

Her cell rang as she was putting the leftover chicken casserole in the microwave. She flipped the phone open and put it to her ear. Hi, Zoe. Why aren’t you home?

I’m staying at Robyn’s tonight. We’re working on a science project, Zoe said with a touch of belligerence.

You know we don’t do that on school nights. You can stay at Robyn’s on the weekend but not tonight. I’ll come and get you.

Mike stays over during the week.

Not with friends he doesn’t. I’m heading for the car. Be ready.

Don’t come to the door, Mom.

Goodbye. She wouldn’t even speak to that.

She parked outside the Mueller’s ranch house and blew the horn. She could be just as rude as June Mueller, she thought, as Zoe flew outside and slammed into the car.

Her heart twisted at the sight of her daughter, arms crossed and lips clamped, her blondish hair slipping out of its ponytail. Wisps had gathered at the corners of her mouth. Her dark blue eyes flashed as she said, This sucks, Mom.

It’s good to see you too. She ignored the sucks, even though she wasn’t clear what sucked. As she pulled away from the curb, she said, So how was school?

Boring, Zoe muttered, discouraging conversation by staring out the passenger window. Mallory knew better than to try to draw her out.

They ate in silence. Mallory itched to tell Zoe to get her elbows off the table and chew with her mouth shut. She had said these things a hundred times. It was obvious Zoe was trying to annoy her.

When Zoe carried her plate to the dishwasher, Mallory asked, Isn’t this the weekend you go to your dad’s? That meant she would spend the weekend alone. Mike and Zoe stayed with the same parent on weekends. She and David had thought they might never see each other otherwise.

You said I could stay at Robyn’s.

You’ll have to talk to your dad about that. Give him a call.

But you promised…

I didn’t promise. I forgot this was your dad’s weekend. She put the leftovers away. Do you have homework? After Zoe’s grades had tanked, she and David had sent her to counseling, hoping it would help her deal with the changes. Her grades had come up from Cs to Bs. Mall sometimes reluctantly wondered whether Robyn should get some credit for the grades. Sanctimonious Robyn got straight As.

Yeah.

I’m going for a short walk, she said as Zoe scooped up the cat and headed for her room. Just for half an hour or so. See you soon.

Lucky me, Zoe muttered, disappearing up the stairs with Mr. Orange draped across her thin arms.

It had been an amazingly warm May. Mall walked along the river trail, feeling more alone because it seemed everyone else had companions, but the breeze coming over the water gave her energy. She’d planned her calendar so that she worked on the Saturday mornings when Mike and Zoe were with their father. That way she had only Saturday afternoon and Sunday to get through. Once she would have been thrilled to have a weekend to herself. Now that the kids wanted to spend that time with their friends, she contrarily wanted their company—probably because she had no one else special in her life. Pretty pathetic, she thought.

She sat on a park bench beside the trail and took out her cell. Lisa Martinelli’s name was near the top of the list. She was Mallory’s best friend. After five rings, Lisa answered.

Hey, how are you? I was just thinking about calling you, Lisa sounded breathless. What’s up?

Did you run to the phone?

I just came inside. I’m training for a marathon. Want to join me?

I don’t run. I walk. Lisa knew that. I wondered if you wanted to take in a movie Friday or come over and watch one with me?

Sure. Should we go out to eat first?

Can’t do both.

I’ll fix dinner. This is your weekend with no kids. Right? You can sleep over if you want.

She smiled, her eyes on the river. White pelicans were swimming against the current on the far side. Thanks, but I have to work Saturday morning. Sure I’m not interrupting your plans?

Nope. A physician’s assistant in one of the local doctors’ offices, Lisa was Mallory’s age, thirty-eight, and happily single. Although she was always dating some guy, she’d told Mallory that she hadn’t met one she wanted to wake up with every day.

"I’ve got a DVD from the library—Normal with Jessica Lange and Tom Wilkinson. Should I bring it? It’s not something I want to watch with Zoe." Mallory looked up as two bikers passed.

Sure. I like Jessica Lange.

What can I bring for dinner? When the bikes were gone, she zeroed in on the woman they had temporarily blocked from view. A jolt of recognition passed through her.

Wine.

Hey, I gotta catch up with someone. I’ll see you Friday after work. What time?

Five.

She jumped off the bench and broke into a trot. The red hair was a dead giveaway.

Hi, Ms. Goodwin, she panted as she caught up. Caitlyn, right?

The woman turned toward her without slowing her brisk pace. Did I forget to sign something?

No. I was sitting on a bench back there, she said, pointing, and you walked by. I just wanted to say hello.

Hello, then. Caitlyn gave her a stiff, forced smile.

Is everything okay? Mallory persisted.

Why wouldn’t it be? she asked, picking up her pace until they were nearly running.

Well, you seemed upset. I was when my divorce went through. The kids were so angry… She was babbling.

Caitlyn stopped in her tracks and stared at Mallory, who also put on the brakes. I’m sorry. I don’t remember your name.

Mallory Kerrigan. Mall. How could Caitlyn have forgotten her name already?

The loan officer. Sorry I wasn’t focusing very well this morning. I’m walking it off right now.

I must have walked a hundred miles. I’m still walking. Mallory thought it was as good an explanation for joining her as any.

A bike nearly grazed Mallory in passing and she yelped. Hey, watch where you’re going.

The biker turned and hollered, Sorry.

Caitlyn edged toward the grass. It might be safer to get out of the middle of the trail.

You’re right. She scooted over next to Caitlyn as another biker bore down on them. She was wracking her brain for something to say that wouldn’t be too personal and blurted, Look, I’m sorry you lost your house.

I can’t afford the house. You must know that. Besides, it reminds me of all the fights. Did you lose your home?

No, but he didn’t want it. It had been about as cooperative as a divorce could be. She wondered why they had let each other go so easily.

How fortunate for you, Caitlyn said, her tone caustic. Everything turned into an argument, except the house. She resumed her quick pace.

Mallory hustled to keep up, unwilling for some reason to let her go on alone as she obviously wanted to do. I felt like I lost my son. He lives with his dad. Her voice cracked.

I got primary custody of my son. His father was cheating on me.

That must have been difficult. This was getting way too personal.

Mallory interpreted Caitlyn’s wry smile as How do you know?

She wasn’t clear why David had wanted out or why she hadn’t put any obstacles in his way. He asked for the divorce.

Caitlyn frowned. All I care about is keeping my son.

Three girls about Zoe’s age passed them, chattering and laughing and bumping into each other. She remembered she’d told Zoe she wouldn’t be gone long and more than an hour had passed. Look. Could we continue this conversation at a later date?

Why would you want to? Caitlyn stopped and turned toward Mallory. A couple with a dog nearly walked into them.

Sorry, they both said and stepped off the blacktop onto the grassy verge.

Well, because I find you interesting, Mallory stammered. I’d like to know you better. She couldn’t remember ever saying that to anyone.

Caitlyn was holding her hair against the warm wind with one hand. Her blue eyes bore into Mallory for a moment before she looked away. When? Where?

It seemed like a coup, and Mallory’s breath left her in a rush. She had expected a resounding No! She spoke quickly, nervously. We could meet here Saturday afternoon. My ex has the kids this weekend. I have to work in the morning. You could bring your son with you. She hoped she wouldn’t, though.

Caitlyn smiled a little. He’ll be with his father.

Is that okay? Meeting here? It seemed apropos. Besides, she couldn’t come up with a better place off the top of her head.

Sure, but I have to be at work at three.

Let’s meet in the parking lot at twelve thirty, she said, gesturing with her head in that direction. I probably should go. I told my daughter I was only going to be gone a short time. She studied Caitlyn’s face—the pale skin, clear eyes, red brows and lashes, the sharply delineated nose and high cheekbones—as if to memorize her. She noted they were of similar height, around five-foot-four.

Okay. Caitlyn looked toward where she had been heading as if ready to be on her way.

Mallory hurried back toward the parking lot, nearly running when she neared her car. Her body felt light, airy, but she was quickly grounded when she opened the door of the VW. It was broiling inside and when she turned the key the engine rumbled to life as if disgruntled. Today was Thursday. Saturday was only a day away.

When she got home, the TV was on and Zoe was sprawled on the couch with her phone in her lap. Even when she was eating or talking, she checked her cell for messages every minute or so. It drove Mallory wild, but she knew Zoe was like practically every teen that way and held her tongue.

You were gone over an hour.

I took the river trail. It’s lovely out. What are you watching?

Zoe flicked off the TV and stretched. Doesn’t matter. I’m going to my room.

Her daughter’s chattiness, her eagerness to share her days, had vanished with the divorce. Of course, she was thirteen, which meant she confided in her friends instead of her mother. Mallory missed the daughter she’d known nine months ago.

Had it only been nine months, the time it took to have a baby? It seemed like a year had passed, at least. Her life had unraveled. She was still trying to put it back together.

Chapter Two

Zoe

Zoe called Robyn. Hey, it’s my dad’s weekend. He never lets me sleep over. Her dad would say he didn’t see enough of her as it was and he didn’t always want to share her. She thought that was terribly selfish of him.

She put an arm around the cat and pulled him down next to her. He purred loudly, almost drowning out Robyn’s voice, but she knew she was second place in his affections. He spent his nights in her mother’s bed.

You’re going to miss the Godly Crew. They’ll be performing at Our Savior’s Saturday. I think I’d die if I had to miss seeing Eric. He’s so hot, Robyn said excitedly.

Yeah? Eric Hadley played guitar and sang Christian songs. Zoe thought he was cute. She couldn’t think of any guy who was hot. Does he know you even exist? Of course, he didn’t. Robyn was her age. Eric must be over twenty. He’d graduated from St. Luke’s Bible College.

Hey, if you’re going to talk like that, I’m going to hang up, Robyn said angrily.

I’m just pissed that I can’t stay over at least Friday night. She didn’t care about seeing Eric and his group. She cared about spending time with Robyn. Except for the born again part, she sometimes wished she was Robyn, who had thick, shiny brown hair, large light brown eyes, perfect skin and white, straight teeth. If that wasn’t enough, Robyn had a body to die for. Maybe Eric did notice her. If Zoe were Eric, she’d ask her out. She blurted that into the phone.

Robyn’s voice turned into a low-pitched purr to match Mr. Orange’s, and Zoe relaxed. Honest?

Yeah, but your mom wouldn’t let you go.

Neither would yours, Robyn shot back.

I don’t want to go out with him.

It’s like you don’t like guys, Robyn said, and when Zoe didn’t answer right away, See, you can’t even think of any.

I like Deke Smith.

That spastic act of his is so stupid.

He’s fun. He made her laugh. It was one of the reasons she liked him, but Robyn wouldn’t understand. She was way too serious.

He’s nerdy.

Better smart than dumb and handsome.

You’re really beginning to annoy me, Zoe. Know that?

The last thing she wanted to do was piss Robyn off. She’d dropped her other friends to hang with Robyn. She’d really liked Sharon McCloskey—whom she’d known since kindergarten—but Robyn wouldn’t even talk to her. Sharon hung with Anne Huddleston and Martha Rostenkowski now.

Sometimes it felt lonely just having Robyn for a friend. Besides, Robyn often made snide remarks about Zoe’s parents. Family was big at Our Savior’s. Divorce was a bad thing, because every kid needed a mom and dad. Sex out of marriage was giving in to the devil, since sex was for procreation only. Abortion was murder and homosexuality was a perversion. The pastor couldn’t say enough about these sins, especially abortion and homosexuality.

She had wanted to ask Robyn why Jesus had never married and what he had to say about homosexuality and sex out of marriage. After all, wasn’t he the one who’d said, Do unto others as you would have them do unto you? But she hadn’t worked up the nerve to question the teachings of Our Savior’s pastor.

Sorry. She wasn’t, though. She was kind of angry. She wasn’t crazy about Robyn’s mother either, who thought she was holier than thou. And Robyn’s dad scared the bejesus out of her. He was way too friendly, always pulling her on his lap with a laugh. She said, I have a math quiz. Wish you were here to help me study.

I would if you came over. Robyn probably wouldn’t have to even study for this class. She took advanced math.

Aren’t you the lucky one? If she got another C in math, her mom and dad would be all over her. Look, I gotta go. See you tomorrow. She nearly always let Robyn end their conversations, but Zoe could hear her mom outside her door.

"I’ll call you next time, Robyn said snottily, if I have time."

Whatever, she replied and flipped the phone shut. Mad at both her mom and Robyn, she said, What do you want? when her mom knocked.

The knob turned and her mother came in. To talk to you. It’s like we never do that anymore.

Whether she admitted it or not, she admired her mom and wanted to be a professional too—just not a loan officer. Robyn had said loaning money to people didn’t take much training, not like being a doctor, and besides, Jesus had knocked over the moneylenders’ tables in the temple because they were usurers. Zoe had pointed out that no one would own a home if someone didn’t lend money. She’d further fueled the fire by asking why Robyn’s mom didn’t work. Robyn had gotten all huffy and said a married woman belonged at home—taking care of her kids and husband—to which Zoe had replied that her mom worked because she wanted to.

Is that what you’re going to do, be a doctor? Robyn was so smart. Zoe could see her becoming a doctor. She couldn’t envision her as a mother, cooking and taking care of a bunch of kids. Robyn didn’t even like kids.

Maybe, until I get married. She’d flipped her long hair away from her face, and Zoe had thought she was both beautiful and brainwashed. She loved and hated her.

Now Zoe’s mom sat on the edge of the bed. Zoe had been only five when her parents bought the house. They had painted her room a light blue with pink decals of clouds. Robyn said it was a baby’s room, but Zoe liked those pink clouds floating in the blue sky.

So did you get much studying done? Her mom stroked the cat, which yawned and stretched.

I’ve got a test. She gestured at her open algebra book, lying on the bed next to her. Why did she need to learn math when a handheld computer could do it all? She would get better at this, though. Ms. Dugan put the kids in seats according to their test scores. The lowest scorers sat in the front of the row near the door, the highest in the back row next to the windows. She was determined to own the highest seat. She never questioned the discrimination.

I loved math. Her mom’s bachelor’s degree was in math. She was a CPA.

Her dad taught social studies at Central High School. He was a political junkie. Math wasn’t his thing either. She guessed she took after him. Actually, she looked more like him than her mom. He had blondish hair, too, and blue eyes so dark they looked almost black at times. He was really tall—over six feet. Her brother was a math whiz. He was tall like her dad, but he looked like their mom. He had her mom’s greenish brown eyes and thick wavy brown hair that Zoe envied. She wondered if there was a correlation here, but she wasn’t good at equations.

But what non-math genes did she share with her dad? She liked her English and lit classes better than social studies. The whole family (when they’d been