the path to our front door.
I hear the slow grind of her key in the lock that tells me she’s tired. Tiredness means less patience.
My heart makes a rolling thud in my chest and then speeds with nerves.
She tosses her keys onto the small table by the door and toes off her shoes. “Maggie?”
“In here,” I say, pulling my lip between my teeth and saying a silent prayer that this isn’t going to go as I’m expecting.
Mom appears in the doorway, dressed in her uniform, hair straggly and in need of a color and cut. “You’re back.”
“I am.”
“Did you list the house?”
It’s the third sentence she utters with absolutely no pretense at being happy to see me.
“I can’t. Dad’s foster sons live there, and they don’t want to leave.”
“So they have to buy you out. Did you tell them about the baby? Do they know what you’ve got on your plate?”
“I did, but that doesn’t matter. That’s their home, and they’re at school. They can’t afford to buy me out, and I wouldn’t ask.”
“You wouldn’t ask?” Mom puts her hands on her hips. “What do you mean, you wouldn’t ask? You’re going to have a mouth to feed soon. You’ve got to be prepared to do whatever it takes to deal with that, okay?”
I bring my hands up, palms facing toward my mom, hoping it will make her calm down a little. “If Dad wanted us to sell the place, he would have left instructions to do that.”
“Your dad never had any sense.” Mom scowls. “He always left me to pick up the pieces. And now you’re letting those boys run you out of your house. You’re his only real child. His only daughter. They’re nothing to him, so why the hell did he leave you all an equal share? Maybe you should contest the will. People take blood relations seriously. Maybe the judge would throw out their claim to the house.”
I shake my head, my heart aching at the thought of making those good men homeless. I could never do something like that, even if it did mean I’d be able to put a roof over my baby’s head. “Dad didn’t die of dementia, Mom. He was of sound mind when he put his will together.”
“That is debatable. I just don’t want to see you get the rough end of the stick. You need this more than they do. They’re not worried about you, are they?”
“They are… I mean, they were.” I swallow, the memory of their disappointed faces cutting into my heart. I can’t explain any of what happened to my mom, and I feel terrible that she’s assuming the worst about them.
Mom shakes her head as if to say I’m an idiot who knows nothing about the world. Maybe she’s right. Nineteen is hardly a grand old age, and here I am having to navigate birth, death, inheritance, and relationships. No wonder everything seems to be falling apart around me.
“Were? You were there for a few days. They changed their minds just like that. Like father like sons.” Mom sighs, running her hands over her face. “I just… I don’t even know where to go with this.”
“I… I don’t know either, Mom.”
“Your dad… I just wish he would have told you what his plans were for the house. If he left instructions, none of this would be happening.”
I haven’t told Mom he left me a letter with the will. Uncle Walter gave it to me at the diner, but I still haven’t felt like I can open it, but maybe Mom’s right. Maybe I should now. If nothing else, maybe it will help me to put to bed some of my anxieties about how things were left between us. I’ve been a coward to hold the letter sealed in my purse for so long.
“I’m really tired,” I say, “and you look tired. I’m going to go to bed. I’ll talk to you more about this tomorrow.”
Mom sighs, the weariness she’s feeling oozing from every pore. I feel so sorry that I’m adding to her challenges. “You really need to take this seriously, Maggie. You can’t be sentimental when it comes to putting food on the table for your kid. You’ve got to do whatever it takes.”
At that moment, I see my mom more clearly than I’ve ever seen her before. She’s a hard worker, a person who has struggled to do what she thought was best. It always hurt me that she chose to work rather than