Healing Hearts (Hope River #3) - Margaret McHeyzer Page 0,42
no mood to talk to anyone.
“Tabitha, you’ve been in your room for a day, and you haven’t come out. Open the door.”
“Tired!” I half-yell from bed.
“Come on, I’ve made you a sandwich.”
“Not hungry.”
She knocks a little louder. “Open the door.”
“I just need to sleep. Please, just leave me alone.” Sooner or later, everyone always leaves.
“Let me in to give you the sandwich, and then I’ll go.”
“I’m tired, Aunt May.”
There’s a long silence from the other side, I then hear her footsteps retreating.
“Tabitha, you’ve been in your room for two days. Open the door, or I’ll call the boys over at Mulberry Point fire station, and have them break it down.”
The thing with Aunt May is this. She’s a patient woman, but when she serves up threats, they’re not threats. They’re promises. I know she will call them, and insist they come to break down the door. And with her influence, they’ll be here within the hour to do exactly that.
I push the covers off my body, and drag my feet over to the door to unlock it. Aunt May is standing with her hands on her hips, furious. She takes a small step back, and waves her hand in front of her face. “You stink, and so does your room.” I shrug as I stumble back to bed. She leaves the room, then comes back a few moments later, dragging a suitcase behind her. She tosses it on the bed, opens it, and starts packing my clothes.
“Great, so now you’re throwing me out,” I say. “See, everyone abandons me. Why should you be different?”
She swings around on the spot, and smacks me across the face. Her anger leaves me shocked. “I’m not throwing you out. I’m damn well saving you from yourself! Get your ass up, take a shower, and get ready.”
“Well, if you’re not throwing me out, what are you doing?”
“I’ve booked you on a flight to go back to your parents.”
“I thought you said you weren’t throwing me out.”
“I’m not. But you’re never going to get any better mentally if you don’t face this head-on. And like I’ve said before, it starts with your parents. Get your ass up. You need to be at the airport in an hour.”
“I could have driven, it’s not that far.”
Aunt May continues packing my bag. “You would’ve kept putting it off, and laying in this damn bed feeling sorry for yourself. Get up, Tabitha. Get the hell up, and fight for yourself. Because I can tell you, you’ve isolated yourself to the point that no one else is going to fight for you if you don’t fight for yourself.” Aunt May is beyond furious with me. “You’ve been acting like a world class jerk. Now, get up, or so help me God, I will give you a sponge bath. I don’t care how old you are. I’ll take you kicking and screaming to the airport, but you will get on that plane, and you will sort this out.”
I burst into tears. “Why are you doing this?” I ask as I cover my face.
“Because I love you so much I can’t keep watching you hurt yourself like this. You’re the most important person in the world to me, Tabby, and I refuse to stand by and see you hate yourself so much that you won’t let anyone love you.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, ashamed at myself.
“Prove to me how sorry you are. Get up, march into that bathroom, and get yourself ready.”
“I’m scared, Aunt May,” I whisper.
She sits on the side of the bed, and wraps her arms around me. “Your home is always here. But your mind has to be healthy, or you’ll never truly understand what it means to have a family. And I’m your family.” She kisses me on the temple. “But go have a shower. You stink.”
I crack a small smile. “Okay, I’ll go.”
“Atta girl.” She stands from the bed, and closes the suitcase. “Time is ticking. You’d better hurry up.”
I get up, and head for the shower. I have to do this. It’s been festering for years, and I need to confront it, or I’ll never be able to heal. I can’t keep feeling defective. Because I’m not a bad person.
The butterflies in my stomach are almost enough for me to turn around, get on a plane, and return to Hope River. But I know I need to confront my parents. Walking through the airport, I feel myself walking as slowly as I can, trying to delay the inevitable.