A Time for Us - By Amy Knupp Page 0,84

her own eyeballs. She set it on the library-donation pile on the floor.

Next, she hit Noelle’s Hugh Grant collection in full. Some of the movies Rachel liked, but most of them she hadn’t taken the time to watch. All of them were added to the donation pile because Noelle had been the only movie lover in the family. In fact, it would’ve been easier, both physically and emotionally, to just come in with a paper grocery sack and start stacking all of the movies in it without a glance, but Rachel was compelled to do this to herself, to face the memories. To show herself she could handle it.

When she heard her mom come in the back door, she hurriedly used the filthy dust rag to wipe her eyes then swore at the stupid move as her eyes burned even more.

“What’s wrong?” her mom asked as she entered the dimly lit living room.

Rachel noticed her mom still looked taken aback and did a double take at her black hair even though she’d had days to get used to it. “Oooh.” Her mom’s concern turned to sympathy when she saw what Rachel was doing. “What made you decide to do that?”

Rachel systematically transferred movies from the shelf to the pile, no longer torturing herself with memories specific to each individual title. Without looking up, she said, “I finished the bedroom. Figured this was next. We can probably get rid of this entire cabinet once I get Sawyer to take these to the library.”

“You’re getting rid of all of them?”

Rachel paused with her hand on top of the growing stack to glare at her mother. “We don’t watch movies, Mom. There’s no sense in keeping them.”

“Oh, I want that one,” Jackie said, bending down to retrieve the chick flick on top. “Ah, and this.” She grabbed the next DVD, as well. When she realized Rachel was still eyeing her, she shrugged. “I watch movies now. She had some good ones.”

“You might as well have a seat and help me if there are others you want.”

Her mom kicked off her shoes and sat cross-legged next to Rachel. “I didn’t realize you’d finished your bedroom.”

Rachel inspected the next three cases and handed them over. “Just her side.”

“Just the hard part,” her mom said. “I’m proud of you.”

Rachel had nothing to say to that. Her mom probably wouldn’t be so proud if she had seen the way the task had practically defeated Rachel each time she’d worked on it. And she sure as hell wouldn’t be proud if she found out it’d resulted in her and Cale...

There it was yet again—or maybe it never really stopped, just ebbed and flowed. The swirling, toxic, black guilt rushed into her chest. She was getting better at handling this, though. Her eyes didn’t even water anew. Of course, there was the distinct possibility that there was no moisture left in her tear ducts.

“Damn,” her mom said as they continued to sort. When Rachel glanced up, Jackie was biting her lower lip and shaking her head morosely.

“What?”

Her mom seemed to fight for control for a few seconds. “I wish I’d taken the time then to watch some of these with her. So many nights, I came home from the office late and she’d be sitting there on the couch, wrapped up in a movie. And every time...” Her eyes closed and she pursed her lips together hard for several heartbeats. “Every time, she’d say, ‘Wanna join me, Mom?’ And every time, I’d say I was too tired, or too hungry, or had too much to do. So...damn...much...regret...” As she spoke, her voice went up in pitch till it was squeaky at the end of the sentence.

So much for Rachel hanging on to her own composure. She threw her head back, squeezing her eyes shut at the instant tears. Regret...God. She’d written the book on it.

They both sat there mourning, crying silently, separately, for some time. After a while, her mom breathed in air as if her lungs had been completely empty. The next moment, her arms were around Rachel, and that, more than anything, absolutely killed her. Sobs racked Rachel’s shoulders. She was so absorbed in the pain it didn’t even occur to her to try to hide it—for once.

“I can’t even tell you how much the regret hurts,” her mom said into her hair, and that made Rachel cry harder.

When she could form words, Rachel said, “You...don’t...need...to.” She recognized she was on the verge of hyperventilating again and