on Sammy to show up and leave,” I said, knowing that however true it was, it was still no excuse. So did my mother.
“No. That’s not it. Sammy would have adjusted. He did for Eric. Try again.”
“Mother, you know I hate feeling my feelings,” I said, trying to hide behind humor.
“Suck it up, Buttercup. It’s this or years of therapy.”
“Fine. But I’m going to need another donut.”
She handed over a glazed chocolate, my second favorite. “Maybe,” I admitted slowly, “it was too hard on me to leave him.”
My mother reached over and hugged me. I let a few tears drop into her hair.
Now that I’d open the flood gates, the reasons came pouring in. I felt the years roll back until I was that seventeen-year-old street kid, living on stolen tuition money and a cocky attitude. I’d been barely getting by, supplementing various dishwashing jobs with bilking tourists for small change, selling maps of the stars I’d stolen from other kids, and offering tours of the stars’ homes in stolen limousines. Until a handsome man had taken me off the streets and set me on the path to becoming Carson Grieves.
Deep down, I’d been ashamed of what I was doing. Too embarrassed to tell my mother how bad things had gotten, I’d convinced myself that I had no connection to my old life. But in reality, it hurt too much to remember it. It hurt so much, and I wanted them to hurt as much as I did. “I wanted to hurt you,” I confessed into her shoulder.
Her laugh was full of tears. “Well, you did.”
“I’m sorry, mom. So sorry,” I said.
She pushed away from me, digging through her purse for a package of tissues. She handed me a few.
“But that wasn’t really it,” I said slowly.
“What was it?”
“I was afraid.” I’d been afraid then and I was afraid now because I didn’t want to hurt her. But she had asked. “I did think Bob was disgusted with me, that he hated me. And that you agreed with him. I was afraid I would come home and you would reject me.”
Her face crumbled and she broke into tears.
Now it was my time to reach for her. “Mom, mom. Please don’t cry. I was wrong. I know it now. I’m sure I knew it then.” I hugged her against me, reaching across the cup holders and gearshift. “Please don’t cry. I love you. I know you love me. I do. I do.”
She cried silently for a while. I may have shed a few tears myself. I was an idiot. I’d been an idiot. And unless I could figure out a solution, I was going to hurt them all again. I couldn’t risk bringing Carson Grieves’ life into theirs. It wasn’t safe. And I wasn’t sure how long I’d be able to hide it from them.
“I love you,” I said again. I had a feeling I would have to say it many more times. I had a lot of years to make up for.
“I love you, too, baby. I’m glad you’re back.”
We pulled ourselves together with the last of the donuts and headed to the grocery store.
Since Mom promised the house would be empty, I went home with her to unload the enormous amount of groceries she’d bought in anticipation of feeding a hungry horde for Sunday dinner. I wasn’t up to talking to Sammy or Bob right now. I was a coward to the core.
Ten years ago, Bob and my mom had moved into a piece of La Crosse history. Built in 1885, the architectural monstrosity was a mix of design elements that combined to create something mom called Victorian Gothic. It had five bedrooms, three fireplaces, and more sitting rooms than anyone needed. The house had been structurally sound but needed a lot of upgrades. They’d bought it for a song and put a ton of money, blood, sweat, and tears into it.
Now it was a showpiece. According to my mom, Bob’s investment firm used it for events, it was featured on walking tours, and it had fired a passion in her for historical renovations and community. She sat on all kinds of boards and committees. Not bad for a single mom from a trailer park, as she loved to say.
“You know, this house mom. I’m just so glad you have it. You deserve it.”
“The money you sent helped a lot. But Bob has been doing great.”
“I can’t believe you’re okay with all those kids coming over,” I said as