parents had been big on religious images, but those were gone now, too. Hoping that my mother’s verbal dismissal of God was simply momentary bluster, and that she had simply shifted them to her bedroom, I left Edward and ran up the stairs. There were none in the room my parents had shared, none in the hall, none in either of the other two bedrooms.
At the door of the one that had been mine, I felt a little catch. Unable not to, I stepped in. It was much as it had been when I lived there, with its single bed dressed in pink, its matching curtains, my well-loved stuffed animals standing, some straighter than others, atop the bookshelf. And the shelves beneath? Clear as day despite the cracked spines were titles like Number the Stars, Tiger Eyes, and Ramona Quimby, and, on lower shelves, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie, Hairy Maclary from Donaldson’s Dairy, and The Very Busy Spider. And there was Lilly’s Purple Plastic Purse. It hadn’t been one of mine, but one that my mother added to the collection when Lily was born. My baby had loved it. She had loved overnights with Nana and Papa, returning home with tales of classic movies and cookie-making. My parents hadn’t liked my life, but they adored their grandchild.
The familiar tightness was growing. This was ground zero where memories were concerned.
“Painful,” Edward said from the door. He had a hand high on the jamb, supporting himself against memories of his own, and for a minute he seemed so … wrecked, that I couldn’t breathe. Since our reunion, he had been the stronger of us. What I saw now was a glimpse of what his own past had been.
Crossing to him, I slipped my arms around his waist. Had we done this after the accident? I couldn’t remember. Those days, weeks, months were a blur of shock and shame, grief and blame. But holding each other now felt right. And it wasn’t only about my being held. It was about my holding him.
We didn’t speak, just stood there feeling the memories, letting the pain have its way until, like the sting of medicine on a cut, it lessened, and my chest slowly relaxed.
“Thank you,” Edward whispered against my temple.
“Ditto,” I whispered back.
Then I heard the plop of mail hitting the floor from the slot by the front door and, pulling away, I hurried down to check on my mother. Mercifully, she hadn’t woken.
But I did. There were things to be done while she slept. First, phone calls.
Knowing that Joe Hellinger would have to call me back, I left him a message, then called Annika Allen, who gave me the names of my mother’s doctors, assured me that she could manage the bakery herself, and took my cell number.
I texted Shanahan, who had been sending annoying texts.
I texted Kevin, who had been sending endearing texts.
I was studying an unknown number on my screen, this one from area code 202, when Joe called back. He was thrilled to help after all I’d done for him—those were his words—and while I didn’t see that I’d done anything I hadn’t been glad to do, there was no time to argue. After I had explained the situation, he promised to get us an appointment with the best orthopedic person at Dartmouth-Hitchcock, plus the name of a good physical therapist to work with Mom at the Inn. He also insisted on coming over with his wife to meet my mother, which added two more friends to the list.
While Joe and I talked, Edward was phoning his assistant about readying the owner’s suite. I caught phrases like fresh flowers, bowl of fruit, and Irish Breakfast Tea, before I tuned out to call Liam.
“You are what?” my brother said.
“Bringing Mom to Devon.”
“Oh no. Nonono. If she knows I’m here, she’ll be all over me!”
“She already knows, knew before I said a word. She isn’t a stupid woman, Liam.” I elaborated briefly on that and went back and forth with him for a time before cutting to the chase. “And here’s the thing,” I said, because he claimed to know nothing about the religious images, which meant that either he was oblivious of his surroundings or their removal had happened after he left, which meant that his departure had affected her as deeply as everything related to me, “she is our mother, and she’s in need. You will welcome her to Devon, you will bring her food, you will