It's A Wonderful Midlife Crisis (Good To The Last Death #1) - Robyn Peterman Page 0,44
a child. “This was good—it was a good talk. I know I haven’t lost my mind now. I could think of better hobbies than the one I’m stuck with, but I can do this. You don’t need to worry about me, Gram.”
“Don’t get attached, Daisy,” she whispered. “Do not get attached.”
The warning was dire. She was saying far more. I knew it, and she knew I knew it. The choice was mine to make here. Did I want to know why? I had a feeling it would rock my world in a way that I wasn’t ready to handle. However, the dead squatters had already done that. I’d committed a misdemeanor this morning with a dead person as my accomplice. I couldn’t imagine what could knock me further off-kilter than that.
She wanted me to ask why. I was sure of it. However, Gram was giving me an out. I didn’t want an out right now. I couldn’t afford an out. My sanity was still somewhat on the line.
“Why? Why shouldn’t I get too attached?” I asked with my face buried in her hair.
“It’s how your mamma died,” she told me in a strangled whisper. “She fell in love with a dead man who was sent to hell. There was no work accident, Daisy. Your mamma took her own life.”
My mind went numb and seemed to disconnect from reality. The information was too much to absorb. I didn’t feel rage. I didn’t feel sadness. I felt nothing.
Closing my eyes, I saw a beautiful winged beast appear and drift across my tangled thoughts. His wings were raven black and his face was obscured by grotesque versions of dead people.
My eyes snapped open and I gasped. Gram held me tight as wrenching sobs overcame me. My body felt so cold and empty. No amount of heat could warm me. Tired. I was so tired. Everything around me grew distorted. I couldn’t make sense of any of it—didn’t want to.
All of a sudden, the need to peel the skin from my body and scream came over me.
My mother—the woman I’d pined for my whole life—didn’t care enough to stay with me. A dead man was more important to her.
Was I going to have to rethink my position on God now? He didn’t steal my mother from me at all. She left by her own hand. I reeled with a mixture of hatred and sorrow. Gram’s arms around me were the only thing that connected me to reality.
I changed my mind. Forty had not started off as a good year. Thirty-nine had been devastating because of Steve’s death. Now I was going to have to rethink my mother’s death.
“I’m so sorry,” Gram whispered over and over as she cried with me.
It could have been a minute. It could have been several hours. I had no clue how long we held each other and cried. It occurred to me that I never would have known the true circumstances of my mother’s death had the dead not shown up. Right now, I didn’t know if that was good or bad.
Knowledge did not always set you free.
“I have to go, Gram,” I said as I stood up and tested my legs.
It was still daylight outside. I had to breathe fresh air. I needed time to process.
Gram nodded and wiped her eyes. “I love you, Daisy girl.”
“I love you, old lady,” I replied with a watery smile.
“She loved you too,” Gram said softly.
I had nothing to say. As much as I wanted to believe Gram, I couldn’t. Maybe in time… and maybe not. It was an old wound reopened. It was what it was. Just like I couldn’t bring Sam back to life, I couldn’t change how my mother had died.
With another hug and a reminder for Gram to eat, I left.
I was in a fog as I walked out of the nursing home. All I wanted to do was see the sun and breathe fresh air.
Bursting through the doors of the building, I almost fell to my knees as the crisp fall air invaded my lungs and the sun gave me a little bit of hope.
“Home. I need to go home,” I told myself as I searched my purse for my car keys and made my way through the parking lot.
Everything would be okay… or some new version of okay. It had to be.
I would make it be okay. I had Gram, a puppy, a job, amazing friends and a houseful of dead people.