Lizbet made the so-so motion with her hand. “For every weed I pull, it seems like two grow back in its place.”
“Dad should be here soon with the mulch. Hopefully, that will suffocate the little suckers.” Brooke gulped down her Gatorade. “I finished pruning the roses. But the buds have all these tiny green bugs on them.” She spotted Lizbet’s laptop on the kitchen table. “My computer is upstairs. Can I use yours? I want to check if Mom left a video on insect control.”
“I don’t remember seeing anything about bugs, but help yourself.”
Brooke sat down at the table and opened the computer. Her fingers slid over the mouse as she accessed Lula’s library. “Yep. Here it is. Problem Insects.” She clicked on the file.
Lizbet peered over her sister’s shoulder as they watched Lula point out the different kinds of insects in her garden. “Those are the ones!” Brooke pointed at the screen. They listened on as their mother instructed them on how to get rid of the aphids. Lizbet felt a lump in her throat at the sound of her mother’s voice. “Add a few tablespoons of Dawn dishwashing liquid to a bucket of warm water. You’ll find my spray bottle under the sink in the kitchen. Fill the spray bottle with the soapy water, and spray the plants wherever you see the bugs.”
“Sounds easy enough.” Brooke exited out of the video program. “Wait a minute.” Her eyes narrowed as she read through the list of videos in her library folder. “You got one of these, too.” She pointed at a file labeled For Your Eyes Only. “Obviously, yours is different than mine. What did she say to you?”
Lizbet shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t watched it yet.”
Brooke’s head shot up. “Why not? That’s the first one I watched.”
Lizbet rolled her eyes. “Only you would watch the last video first.”
“Let’s watch it!” her sister said, clapping her hands together like a little girl. When Lizbet hesitated, Brooke nudged her. “If not now, then when? We’re here together. We’re spreading her ashes tomorrow. The timing is perfect.”
Lizbet couldn’t explain why she hadn’t watched the video yet. Other than that she was afraid to look at it alone. She sighed. “Okay. I guess now is as good a time as any.” She accessed the video file and clicked “Play.” Their mother’s face appeared on the screen, her freckles faded and her skin as white as the pillow she lay on in her hospital bed in the Florida room during her final days.
Lula began to speak, her voice no more than a whisper. “Lizbet, my love. The time has come for me to say goodbye.”
Lizbet clicked “Pause.” “I can’t watch this.”
Brooked squeezed her hand. “Yes, you can. I’m here with you.” She clicked “Play” again.
Lula continued, “If you remember nothing else about me, remember that I loved you with my whole heart. Not half my heart as you may have believed. I didn’t share my love for you with your sister. I never loved one of you more than the other. I loved you each in your own way. Brooke is more high-strung and volatile, like me, and you are levelheaded and gentle like your father.”
Lizbet snuck a peek at her sister, who was nodding her head in agreement and smiling.
“You were my rock, Lizzy,” her mother went on. “I always felt grateful, and a little guilty as well, that you stayed in Charleston for college. Having you nearby meant the world to me. Although I never told you, I appreciated it every time you ran to my rescue.” Lula lifted a trembling cup of water to her lips and took several sips before setting the cup back down on the bed table. “Your talents lie in the kitchen. Your special intuition enables you to recognize which spices complement which foods and which ingredients go best together. Go to New York and become the gourmet cook you were meant to be. Fly free, my dear girl.” Her mother smiled. “Although something tells me you will end up back in Charleston. You are a homebody at heart. Just like your mama.”
Lula closed her eyes, and several moments passed before she opened them again. “I owe you an apology, Lizbet. The episode of your thirteenth birthday has weighed on my heart now for years. Brooke came to me six months after the fact and confessed that she was the one who had snuck out that night. Or rather snuck back in. She was the one who’d been drinking, not you. I knew the truth deep down, but my stubborn pride refused to let me admit what a terrible mistake I’d made. Just as my stubborn pride has refused to acknowledge that mistake all these years. I make no excuses for what I did. I had no reason to suspect you when Brooke was the obvious offender. She was four years older than you, after all, and a senior in high school at the time. I always placed Brooke on a pedestal. I don’t know why. Maybe because she was the oldest. Maybe because I saw so much of myself in her. But I couldn’t admit to myself that she was anything less than perfect. And I was wrong. When you’re a parent, you’ll understand that we do our best but we make our share of mistakes. Mothers are humans too.
“The ordeal brought you and Georgia closer together, and I am grateful for that now. You will have her to lean on in the months after I’m gone. But for the longest time, I was jealous of your relationship with her. I never understood why you found it easier to talk to her than me. In retrospect I realize that I haven’t always been the easiest person to get along with. I hope you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me for that.”
Lula breathed an unsteady breath. “And now it is time for me to say goodbye.” She pressed her hand over her heart and pursed her lips into a kiss. “Be brave, my sweet girl. Until we meet again.”
Brooke closed the laptop shut and reached for the basket of napkins, handing a wad of them to Lizbet. They wiped the tears from their cheeks and blew their noses.
“Whoa!” Lizbet fell back in her chair. How different her life would have been if her mother had admitted that to her years ago. How different their relationship might have been.
They sat in silence for several long moments, each of them lost in the past. “What did Mom say to you in your For Your Eyes Only video?”
“Mine was an apology of a different sort. She told me how sorry she was for being rude when she first met Sawyer and for not being more understanding about me being gay. And she told me her diamond engagement ring was mine if I ever wanted to give it to Sawyer.” This brought on a fresh round of tears for both of them.
“Are you going to give it to her?”
Brooke shrugged. “Probably one day. Now is not the right time, though. We’re both so busy with our careers.”
“I don’t get it, Brooke. Was that a deathbed repentance? Because I never saw that side of Mom.”
“She was a good person, Lizbet. She just let her stubborn pride get in the way of showing it. She believed certain things should be a certain way, and when they weren’t she was too pigheaded to admit she was wrong about them.” Brooke scooted her chair closer to Lizbet’s and lay her head on her shoulder. “That’s a big lesson for us both.”
Lizbet kissed Brooke’s hair. “I’m so glad I’ve got you back in my life.”
“You better believe it, kiddo. Because I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be right here on Tradd Street waiting for you whenever you need me.”
<<<<>>>>
Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank the gracious people of Charleston for making my recent extended stay so pleasant. To the basket weavers in the market who greeted me every morning with a smile when I went out for my walks, the staff at the Belmond Charleston Place for their Southern hospitality, the nurses at MUSC for answering my many questions, and for the fabulous restaurants for providing amazing meals and satisfying my insatiable craving for seafood, both cooked and raw. My favorites from this trip included 167 Raw, Hank’s Seafood, Hominy Grill, and Five Loaves Café, but I’ve added so many more to the list for my next visit.
I’m grateful for the many wonderful things I learned from my mother. She shared with me her love for gardening, which I drew on in this novel.
I am blessed to have many supportive people in my life—my friends and family who offer the encoura
gement I need to continue the pursuit of my writing career. I am forever indebted to my beta readers—Mamie Farley, Alison Fauls, and Cheryl Fockler—for giving valuable constructive feedback, helping me with cover design, and promoting my work. And for my Advanced Review Team for their enthusiasm for and commitment to my work.
I wouldn’t survive a day in the world of publishing without my trusted editor, Patricia Peters, who challenges me to dig deeper and helps me make my work stronger without changing my voice.
A special thanks to Damon Freeman and his crew at Damonza.com for their creativity in designing stunning covers and interiors.
A great big thank-you to my family—my husband, Ted, and my amazing children, Cameron and Ned, who inspire me every single day.
A Note to Readers
I am humbled by your continued support. You brighten my day with your e-mails, Facebook posts, and continuous stream of tweets. Your appreciation of my work inspires me to work harder to improve my writing skills and create intriguing characters and plots you can relate to.
While I love Richmond, Virginia, my home for the past twenty years, I miss the easygoing way of the folks who reside in the Lowcountry. Writing about these quirky characters and their unique way of life is the next best thing to experiencing them on a daily basis. I love the beauty of the area—the marshlands and moss-draped trees—and the Southern accents and local cuisine.
I Love hearing from you. Feel free to shoot me an e-mail at [email protected] or stop by my website at ashleyfarley.net for more information about my characters and upcoming releases. Don’t forget to sign up for my newsletter. Your subscription will grant you exclusive content, sneak previews, and special giveaways.
About the Author
Ashley Farley is the author of the bestselling Sweeney Sisters Series. Ashley writes books about women for women. Her characters are mothers, daughters, sisters, and wives facing real-life issues. Her goal is to keep you turning the pages until the wee hours of the morning. If her story stays with you long after you’ve read the last word, then she’s done her job.
After her brother died in 1999 of an accidental overdose, she turned to writing as a way of releasing her pent-up emotions. She wrote Saving Ben in honor of Neal, the boy she worshipped, the man she could not save.
Ashley is a wife and the mother of two young-adult children. She grew up in the salty marshes of South Carolina but now lives in Richmond, Virginia, a city she loves for its history and traditions.
Ashley loves to hear from her readers. Feel free to visit her website at ashleyfarley.net.
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