The Caregiver - By Shelley Shepard Gray Page 0,21

too.

After fishing out his book, he gave all his attention to the mystery. Yes, it was far better to concentrate on this story than his past. Or his future.

Or on how sometimes he felt sure Angela had been exactly right—he wasn’t enough, and he never would be.

Chapter 8

“Mattie, are you all right?” her mother asked through the bathroom door. “You’ve been in there quite some time.”

Struggling for patience, Mattie replied, “I’m fine. I just wanted to get cleaned up.”

“Oh. Well, yes. I suppose it was a verra long day. Do you need help getting dressed?”

“Nee. I can still dress myself, Mamm,” she said sharply. More sharply than she had intended.

“I know you can. I just thought you might need—”

“I don’t.” Mattie could hear her mother’s feet shuffling a bit, like she was trying to walk away from the other side of the door but couldn’t.

“Oh. All right, then. I will go work on the laundry . . . if you need me—” She paused. “Do, uh, you need some of your laundry done?”

It took almost all the energy she had not to snap at her mother. Not to tell her to give her some space.

But that wouldn’t be right, of course. Here her mother was trying so hard. Trying so hard to be helpful and positive—showing her love through her perpetual busyness. Mattie knew from experience that being happy and strong for someone else was difficult to do.

“I don’t need anything washed,” she finally said, “but thank you. I’ll be out soon,” Mattie promised. As soon as she heard her mother step away, she sighed. Oh, but she needed to free herself from this anger that seemed to have taken hold of her and didn’t want to let go.

It gripped her when she was least aware of it and pulled her unapologetically into a dark depression. Worse, she never knew what would set her off.

Today, it had been the extra blood tests that the doctor had ordered. Although he said it was a normal occurrence, Mattie just wasn’t sure. Always in the back of her mind, there was a dark thread of awareness brewing. There was always a chance that the cancer could return.

Those worries had stewed and grown when they’d been at the Knepps’.

She felt weighed down. All she saw when she looked in the mirror was a girl who was less than she used to be, who was damaged before she even had a chance at life.

Turning away, Mattie quickly fastened her dress together, then left the bathroom. She felt the cooler air of the hall fan her face as she walked to the kitchen. She listened for her mother’s voice as she approached.

But the voice that greeted her was far deeper. “Mattie, I was wondering when you were going to appear. It’s about time, I think.”

“Daed! I didn’t know you were home.”

He shrugged as he stood awkwardly facing her, his hands behind his back. “I thought I might do some things around the house today. It’s been a while since I weeded the flower beds.”

Mattie couldn’t remember her father ever weeding the beds. But perhaps this was just her father’s way of spending more time with her?

She stepped forward and took his arm. “It’s gut you’re home when it’s daylight.”

He laughed. “I am enjoying it as well, though I feel a little out of sorts, if you want to know the truth.”

“That’s because you’re used to spending every day with the dairy cows.”

“Most likely. However, I’m hoping that perhaps the cows can do without me for a time.”

“I’m sure they’ll do their best, though they might make you pay for your neglect tomorrow,” she teased. For as long as she could remember, her father had always said the cows had a jealous streak a mile long.

“Their jealousy might be bearable if you will spend some time with me this afternoon, daughter.”

“Of course I will. What would you like to do?”

“Would you like to sit outside for a bit while I tend the flowers?”

“I could help you—”

“No, you could not. You may not weed, daughter.”

She’d always hated weeding. She hated how it was a constant thing, and how more often than not the weeds never failed to have prickers that bit into her hands.

How ironic that now that she couldn’t pull dandelions, she ached to do so. Anything to give her a sense of normalcy. “I’ll try to only watch.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Try?”

“All right. I promise I will not weed. I’ll just sit and watch you work.”

“Then,