After cancer took my husband, debt left my little girl and me facing homelessness. I married my elderly boss for security—then his lawyer exposed his deepest secret.
My entire life seemed to be a series of misfortunes. I grew up in foster care. Nothing tells you that you’re not wanted like being tossed around between families.
“You’re like a stray kitten.”
The shelters where I stayed between foster care placements gave me nightmares. I didn’t know that in a few years they would grant me hope. At one of the shelters, I met my future husband. I never knew why Tom failed to find a family. Despite difficult circumstances, he beamed with joy. The workers at the shelter adored him. And yet, he seemed to be out of luck, just as I was.
At one of the shelters, I met my future husband.
He would chuckle. “Maybe that’s the reason I like you so much.” We stayed in touch until we aged out of the foster care system. One date shortly after, and we knew we couldn’t spend another day apart. We got married in three months.
“It just feels like I’m dreaming”
We didn’t reach for the stars. I was a store clerk, Tom worked as a mechanic. But we had dinner on the table, a soft bed to sleep in, and a person who finally cared—and that was more than we dreamed of in foster care. When we welcomed our daughter Emily, we were over the moon. One morning, I smiled at Tom. “It just feels like I’m dreaming. One wrong move, and I’ll wake up without you.” I did wake up. A month after that morning, I watched a stern doctor fix his glasses and sigh.
“Your husband has cancer. It’s very aggressive.”
For a moment, the room became perfectly still. I heard the ticking of the clock behind him and the faint rustle of paper as Tom shifted beside me. “How aggressive?” Tom asked.
I was afraid when the telephone rang.
The doctor hesitated, and that hesitation terrified me more than any answer could have.
I clenched my fists beneath the table.
“I’ll fight for him with all I have.”
Tom reached for my hand. His fingers were warm, but they trembled against mine. “We’ll fight together,” he said. We did. I was afraid when the telephone rang. I was afraid before every scan, every appointment, every quiet conversation between doctors in the hallway. At night, when Tom finally slept, I pressed my face into the pillow so he wouldn’t hear me cry. But every morning, I smiled for him.
“I’ll fight for him with all I have.”
Perhaps that was bravery—not being unafraid, but waking up each day with terror in your chest and choosing to keep going. We emptied our savings. I borrowed money. We tried specialists in other cities, new combinations of medicine, and an experimental treatment that offered us only the smallest chance. I clung to that chance as if it were a rope hanging over a cliff. A year after that first appointment, I held Tom’s hand as his breathing slowed.
He looked at me and smiled weakly. Then he was gone.
So much for not being a stray kitten anymore.
I sat in the living room dressed in black and looked at piles of bills on the table before me. Emily played at my feet, her father’s death beyond her understanding yet, and her toy kitten seemed to mock me. So much for not being a stray kitten anymore. I gazed at the store uniform on the hanger. Without Tom, I could never afford daycare and out flat, let alone make a dent in hospital bills. I needed a new job. After a day of job hunting, my eyes landed on a housekeeping job for Richard, an old wealthy man. I had only once seen his estate on the outskirts of the town. It was massive. How could he only need one housekeeper?
Filthy reach people with no regard for people like me.
Well, I didn’t have much of a choice. I called the number and headed to the interview in a few days, Emily by my side.
Richard was waiting for us in his study. His tailored suit fit him perfectly, and his boots were worth at least four of my salaries. I could hardly contain my scoff. Filthy reach people with no regard for people like me. “Good evening,” he said, smiling. “You’re Nora, and who is this young miss?” “Emily,” I said dryly. “My daughter. Couldn’t afford daycare for her.”
“I will take care of that. If you accept the job, that is.”
“A widow and an orphan isn’t much of a chooser, you know.” “An orphan?” He raised his eyebrows. “Forgive me my curiosity. Which shelter were you put in?” “Too many to count. The first one was right in this town, thirty years ago.”
“You seemed… familiar.”
