Stars Over Alaska (Wild River #4) - Jennifer Snow Page 0,41

up. “You never did want to be a part of this family, so I guess you running off again shouldn’t upset me,” she said behind her.

Leslie whipped around. “That’s what you thought my leaving was? I was fifteen, mom. I was angry and sad and in the matter of weeks, I’d had to grow up very quickly.” It was so long ago, but right now, all of the tough emotions and difficult choices felt like they’d happened only yesterday.

“Right,” her mother said with a nod. “You were faced with some tough decisions and forced to deal with your mistakes.”

Mistakes? That hurt. Maybe getting pregnant hadn’t been planned and maybe it wasn’t the best thing to happen to a fifteen-year-old, but her mother was still acting like it had been the worst thing that could have happened to Leslie.

“So what happened was...”

“If you say it was a good thing...” She was going to lose it if those words came out of her mother’s mouth again. She’d heard it too many times.

“No. Of course it wasn’t a good thing, but Leslie, look at things from my point of view. My baby was pregnant. I saw your future evaporating. I saw your life getting so much harder.”

“Then why didn’t you try to help instead of trying to tell me what to do, how to live? Convincing me that I should break up with Dawson and consider other options wasn’t what I needed from you back then.”

“I reacted the only way I knew. By trying to protect you. From Dawson. From having to grow up too quickly. From yourself.”

“I didn’t need protection. I needed support, guidance, a shoulder to cry on and a hand to help me get back up...especially afterward. Instead, you let me move out.” Emotions strangled her and she forbade herself to break down right now.

Her mother gave a sad laugh as she said, “You were determined to leave and I didn’t honestly expect you to stay away.”

“Then why didn’t you insist that I come back?”

“Because I was trying to give you space and I thought maybe your grandmother might have a way with you that I didn’t. You were so headstrong.” She shook her head as though feeling the defeat all over again. “Never listened to anything I said.”

“Eddie and Katherine were stubborn too. You managed to deal with their rebellion and mistakes.” That had been one of the hardest things about leaving home, not being with her siblings. Feeling left out—her own doing—but still painful. And knowing they were happier without her there.

“They weren’t like you,” her mother said.

Fantastic, so she was just the problem child. The uncontrollable one.

“If I could do things over...”

Her mother sounding unexpectedly remorseful was worse than her anger. But it was too late now. They couldn’t go back and change the past and they couldn’t move forward with this pain between them.

Desperate for an escape, Leslie stormed out of the house and across the yard to the garage. She slipped inside and closed the door behind her, then took a deep breath.

Her head hurt and her chest felt tight.

Why the hell had she let Eddie talk her into this? Her and her mother together was never a good idea. It always escalated into an argument and damn it if they hadn’t reached the worst topic ever that day.

They hadn’t talked about what had happened...since it had happened.

Avoidance had worked fine to keep things relatively peaceful for everyone else in the family all these years.

She forced several deep breaths as she walked around the garage. Her father’s workshop, his hiding place, his own place to create. She touched his woodworking table, her finger leaving a trail through the sawdust still covering the top. No one ever came out there. It was as though they wanted to preserve it as it was, a way to honor their father.

But Leslie knew he wouldn’t mind her being in there.

She’d spent a lot of time in there with him. Watching him build, watching him draw, watching him develop photos in his makeshift darkroom and watching him paint...

She stared at the last mural he’d created, weeks before he died. One full wall of the garage always acted like his canvas. He’d paint it white, then paint the most magnificent scenery images, based on photos they’d taken. He’d take a photo of it, then paint over it...and create something new.

It had always broken Leslie’s heart to watch the designs disappear under layers of white paint, but he always reminded her he