“You used to,” I reminded her. “Way back. You used to do it every morning before work.”
“That pool closed. I’d have to go farther for an indoor one.”
I wasn’t mentioning Uber. “When can you drive?” Luckily, the broken bones were all on her left side, not her right.
She picked up a piece of toast. “Not soon enough.” She sighed. “The problem is reaction time. Surgery slows it down. If I drive too soon and cause an accident…” She pursed her lips and shook her head. Then, seeming to realize what she’d said, she dropped the toast and folded her arms.
I couldn’t have asked for a better lead-in. Curling my fingers around her thin wrist, I whispered, “I’m sorry, Mom. Sorry for everything that happened. Do you know how many times I’ve relived those minutes and done things differently in my mind—like stopping and flagging down the first car to come along, or turning around and going back—but I didn’t that day. I kept driving. Do you know how sorry I am?”
There were many things my mother could have said, but all she did was unfold her arms and wrap her hands around her tea.
“Mom?”
She sighed. “What can I say?”
“Something maybe about God forgiving our sins, or God having a plan?”
She let out a huff and looked into the distance. “I don’t know about God.” The eyes that returned to me were tear-filled. “I don’t know. I just don’t know what to say. I don’t know why things happen or what to do when you lose what you always wanted and can’t get it back. Is it God’s punishment? Is God even there?”
“Of course, He is,” I said because though my own beliefs were negligible, my mother’s were not. Hers had never wavered. Until now. Which meant that her emotions were in real trouble. An intervention wouldn’t help where religion was concerned since I was struggling with the Almighty myself. But there might be something else.
I looked at Edward, who seemed as alarmed with what Margaret had said as I was. Our eyes met and held. In that instant, that second, something passed between us. An idea. Something that made total sense without needing any thought at all, but that when even the tiniest bit of thought was applied, was the only thing that made sense.
“I think,” he said, “your mother could use a change.”
“Mom?” Leaning in, I grasped her arm, this time with both hands. “Come back to Vermont with us.”
Margaret was visibly startled.
“Come back with us,” I pushed. “I could definitely drive down here once or twice a week, even stay for a bit, but if you have to recuperate somewhere, why not there? Devon’s an amazing place. It’d be a break for you.”
“Oh, no,” she said, eyes wide, “I couldn’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“My life is here. My doctor—my physical therapist—my bakery—”
“We have doctors. We have physical therapists. Your assistant is good, you just said that, so what difference would it make if you logged on from here or Devon? No one would know where you were.”
“My friends—”
Aren’t here now. Aren’t driving you places. Aren’t family. There was a cell phone on the coffee table in the living room, but it hadn’t made a peep since I’d arrived.
“Your friends can stay in touch,” I said, “but don’t you want to see where I live?”
“I—oh no—you don’t really want that.”
“I do,” I said and tried to sweeten the pot. “I work at a Spa, Mom. It’s peaceful and smells wonderful. My friends there would wash and dry your hair. You could have a mani-pedi or a massage.”
“I couldn’t—”
“And we have a pool.” I hurried on. “It’s an indoor one at the sports center just down the road from the Spa. I could drive you there and back. I live on a beautiful hill and could schedule my work so that I can be home with you, and when I’m not there, Liam is.” I stopped short.
She stared at me, then snorted. “Oh, Margaret Mackenzie, I know he’s there. No way could that child survive without his mother or his sister. But I can’t go there.”
“Why not?”
“It’s your place, and I’ve been horrible to you.”
I’d been prepared for more of the creature-of-habit response. Or the I-like-my-own-home one. Or even the I-need-to-get-back-to-work one. Not my mother apologizing.
“But you were right—y’know, way back,” Edward said, setting down his fork with a tiny clink.