“Dais, stage, front-and-center, whatever. You make it the first thing you think about in the morning and the last thing at night. You let it dominate everything you do. That’s obsession.”
I waited. “What’s my next choice?” I knew there was one, because these two were extremes, and Edward was not.
He didn’t bother with the finger this time, but said with resignation, “You accept what you can’t change and move on.”
“Is that what you do?”
“It’s how I wound up in Devon.”
“But you still resent me.”
“No. I don’t. I told you. I don’t blame you for the accident. But I can’t vouch for your mother. If she needs a scapegoat for her disappointments, you may be it.” Grabbing my hand, he gave it a little shake. “Or not. We’ll know soon.”
* * *
I had grown up on a street of modest homes in Bloomfield, a suburb of Hartford, and there had been changes over the years, but they always seemed small. Signs of a new family, a new paint job, or an addition connecting house to garage were topics of discussion when I came home to visit. In my life, I hadn’t ever gone a month without a visit home.
Now, four years had passed, and—like us—my parents’ street was the same, but not. The ranch house where a high school classmate had lived was still there, but the one beside it had been torn down and replaced with a large arts-and-crafts-style home. The gorgeous hedge of forsythia that had positively glowed for three weeks each spring had been replaced with arborvitae. The plain shingle home across the street from the hedge had been dressed up with fieldstone, dormers, and skylights. And the maple trees I loved, the ones that had been planted before I was born, when farmland was first carved up into streets?
Gone!
Lindens stood in their place—spindly saplings with cords holding them straight, and while I knew that lindens were fast-growing and would interfere less with overhead wires than the maples had done, I felt a sense of loss.
The sense of loss, of course, included Lily and my dad, both of whom were newly gone when I was here last. And the feeling only intensified when we turned into the driveway I knew so well.
I put a hand to my chest, which had gone hard. “I can’t do this,” I whispered. If my mother rejected me now, I would be destroyed.
Edward turned off the motor. “Too late. We’re here.” In a gesture so casual it might have been a stretch, he reached out to massage the back of my neck.
“You’re supposed to say I can do it,” I said when I could breathe again.
“That’s a given. You’re a strong woman, Mackenzie.”
“About to face a far stronger one.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” He was leaning forward to study the house. “It doesn’t look so good.”
My own vision had been clouded by emotion. Now I took a clearer look. There were other Colonials on the street, many wearing the same gray-and-white, so ours totally fit in. But our gray body was peeling, our white trim stained, our front walk cracked, and our shrubs overgrown.
“Doesn’t bode well,” I said with a wince and sat back.
After a minute of silence came a quiet coaxing. “You can do it.”
When I turned to look at him, his eyes held utter conviction—and how not to believe it? He certainly said everything right. Lord knew, his life in Devon hadn’t been a cakewalk. And still he was here.
In that instant, I felt love, appreciation, even awe. For his sake alone, I had to face my mother.
Unbuckling my seat belt, I reached for the door.
20
And so I found myself—well, Edward and me—at my mother’s front door. Was I supposed to ring the bell? Knock? Use a key to let myself in? I had always done this before—used a key. And that key was still on my key ring, which, since I hadn’t needed car keys and had left in an emotional firestorm, was back in Vermont.
That said, times had changed. I was a stranger here. If my mother heard the door opening, she might be terrified. Might call 911. Might even have a gun.
I gave the wood three soft knuckle-raps, then waited, listening, but my heart was the only beat I heard. I knocked more firmly. Still nothing.
“Ring the bell,” Edward said.
“What if she’s sleeping?” And if she was? Would I turn away? Drive off? Chalk the whole thing up to a mistake and return to Devon?