by Liz Fenton
“Tell me,” Mona whispered.
And so Claire unleashed her story in great detail, explaining to Mona how she ended up living this year all over again. She confided why Jessie was so adamant they return. How Claire feared Gabriela’s writing career might never recover. She told her how guilty she felt about her feelings for Mason, and at her mother’s prompting, told her about Jared as well. And finally, she admitted her biggest fear. That she’d somehow shortened Mona’s life by returning.
“Claire.” Mona’s eyes were clear. “You have to stay. Here. In this life.” Mona’s eyes fluttered slightly, as if the conversation was exhausting her. Claire felt her time with her mother slipping through her fingers like flour through a sifter.
“But what if I made things worse by coming back? I thought I could save you this time. But here we are, again. I couldn’t stop it from happening.” Claire choked as she said the last words—the ones that had been playing on repeat in her head, torturing her. “If anything, the cancer is taking you so much more quickly. I failed.”
Mona gestured for Claire to come closer and lifted her hand to cup Claire’s chin. “You didn’t fail at all. Some things aren’t meant to be fixed. If you came back a thousand times, you still couldn’t change this.”
“But I’m not ready for you to go.” Claire let the tears fall silently into Mona’s hand.
“Listen to me.” Mona’s voice was weaker. “The last nine months with you have been amazing. And now I can go, because I know Emily is going to be okay. She has a mother who came all the way back in time to help her.”
“So you believe me?”
“Of course I do. You never were much of a liar.” Mona smiled frailly. “But promise me one thing.”
“Anything.”
“Now that you’ve helped Emily, it’s time to do something for yourself.”
“What?”
“Don’t waste your second chance for true love.”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do, Claire.”
“Mason?” Claire asked.
Mona nodded, closing her eyes.
“Mom?” Claire shook her arm slightly and Mona’s eyes blinked open again. “Thank you. For everything. I love you. I’m so happy I got another chance.”
Mona locked eyes with Claire. “You’ve always been such a good girl. Go. Be happy. It’s okay. I’ll always be here for you—just be sure to watch for the signs. And, Claire?”
“Yes?”
“Tell Emily I agree with her about the ending of Gabriela’s book. Mothers and daughters should forgive each other; life is too short not to,” Mona said softly, smiling serenely before closing her eyes for the very last time.
• • •
“Your mom was an amazing person. She will be missed.” A tall woman whom Claire vaguely recognized from the bakery downtown was clasping her hand, removing her from her thoughts.
“Yes, she sure was,” Claire responded. “Thank you for coming.” After she had moved on, Claire turned to Emily, who was standing to her right. “You okay?”
“My feet are killing me, and that last woman had the worst breath ever. She kept talking about how Grandma loved the butter croissants at her bakery. But other than that, I’m doing all right.” She smirked slightly.
Claire laughed. “Her éclairs are pretty spectacular too.”
“She keeps staring at Grandpa!” Emily rolled her eyes. “She just handed him a big basket of baked goods!”
Claire nodded toward her father, who was deep in conversation with Jessie, the lines in his face etched even deeper than usual, a side effect of little food and sleep. But he was a handsome man, and she wasn’t surprised the vultures were circling. And she knew Mona would approve, that she’d want him to move on, to be taken care of—maybe not at the funeral, but in the near future. Before, he had never really embraced the idea of another woman after she passed. This time, Claire planned to make sure he did. “We should get Grandpa home. He looks exhausted.”
“I’ll go get him,” Emily said, and Claire noticed again how much more mature she seemed than even a month ago. After Claire had mailed the letter to Emily’s father, she’d held her breath for what felt like weeks, every time the phone rang, feeling a shiver of fear go through her—how would she handle him reentering her daughter’s life? But so far, they hadn’t heard from him, and Claire felt herself growing more comfortable with the idea that they probably wouldn’t. Emily hadn’t brought him up again, so maybe the simple writing and sending of the letter was enough.
Emily had taken Mona’s death better than Claire had expected, her tear-stained face beaming when Claire pulled her aside at the hospital and revealed that Mona had heard every word she’d read to her, that she’d been listening until the last page of the book. Emily had given a moving eulogy earlier when Claire realized she couldn’t do it, that the words she wanted to say about her mom clung to the back of her throat. As Emily articulately shared her poignant memories of her grandmother, things Claire had even forgotten, like the time Mona had taught Emily how to crochet a beret for her doll, Claire cried happy tears. She was proud. Proud that her daughter stood up—when Claire couldn’t—and showed love. For her grandmother. For Claire. And for herself. The change in Emily between this funeral and the last was striking. Before, Emily had sat, arms crossed and insolent, unwilling to let any of the emotion she was feeling escape, instead allowing it to seethe inside her until it exploded. Claire knew, as she watched Emily at the podium, that Mona had been right, Emily was going to be okay.
“Claire!” Claire heard Jessie call her name as Mason walked her to her car, her dad having already left with Emily. He had insisted on driving himself that morning, claiming he didn’t need to be babied, and then pointing up at the sky and winking. Claire had smiled and let him go.
She turned to see Gabriela and Jessie hurrying over. “Your dad almost hit me pulling out of the parking lot,” Gabriela said, smiling. “Glad to see this isn’t going to slow him down.”
“Literally,” Jessie added. “He was hauling ass. Emily was holding on to the ‘oh shit’ bar for dear life!”
Claire paused and watched in amusement as Mason’s face paled. He hadn’t spent a lot of time with Gabriela and Jessie and had no idea this banter was exactly what Claire needed. That if they felt sorry for her right now, she’d break into tiny pieces all over the blacktop. She needed to laugh. She needed to get out of her own head. She needed her friends.
“Did you see the way those Zumba women were circling him like sharks?” Claire said, perking up. “I mean, my mom’s body is barely cold, and they’re already treating him like man candy! What’s next, a Tinder profile?”
“What’s Tinder?” Mason asked, and the girls exchanged a guilty smile, Claire remembering the few times she’d used the matchmaking app, finally deleting it after a man she swiped yes on sent her a message asking if she’d suck his toes. She’d met Jared shortly after and recalled sighing in relief at the end of their first night out, when the only thing he’d ask her to suck was his straw to taste the drink he’d ordered.
“I wasn’t going to tell you this, but I had to wipe some magenta lipstick off his cheek when I saw him,” Jessie said sheepishly, ignoring Mason’s question about the dating app. “That widow that runs the bakery planted one on him right before I walked up!”
“Slut,” Claire deadpanned, and they all broke into laughter as Claire released her anxiety, sadness, and disappointment with every breath. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt free. “She also gave him some sweet treats!”
“I bet she wanted to give him a lot more than that!” Jessie snorted.
Claire was laughing so hard she almost didn’t notice the large monarch butterfly that appeared, circling and flapping its wings slowly.
“Wow,” Mason said as the butterfly landed on Claire’s shoulder.
“That’s the most beautiful butterfly I’ve ever seen,” Jessie said, sta
ring at the orange and black creature.
“You know that’s good luck, right?” Mason said.
Claire only smiled, looking up at the sun peeking through the clouds, teasing them with slivers of sunlight. “Thank you, Mom,” Claire said quietly, right before the butterfly took flight, disappearing a few moments later.
• • •
“So do you think Mona really believed you? About us?” Gabriela asked between breaths as she, Claire, and Jessie power walked the next morning down The Strand toward her house, surprised, as she often was lately, how breathless any kind of exercise made her. Was she still the same person who ran a half marathon in under two hours? Most days, she didn’t feel like it.
“I do,” Claire said with confidence. “All I know is that my mom told me to stay. That I had to.”
Jessie and Gabriela shared a look. Colin had moved out the week before, Gabriela watching silently as he and his best friend, Dan, carried off the bed they’d slept in for fifteen years, Gabriela insisting he take it. She’d been sleeping in the guest room so often that the luxe king mattress didn’t even feel like hers anymore. She lay in the double bed with the bland oatmeal-colored comforter tucked under her neck that first night Colin was gone and watched The Notebook, crying until her eyelids swelled shut. She had come back with a purpose, and she had to see it through, even if she had to do it alone.
“So you want to stay?” Gabriela asked, absentmindedly putting a hand on her abdomen, praying there would be a baby in there this time. She had recently started her fourth round of IVF and, at the insistence of the women in the TTC chat rooms, she’d found a new nutritionist and had changed her entire diet again. This time, she was eating more red meat and not consuming any cold liquids. She was also diligently taking her fertility drugs and now giving herself the shots that Colin once had. She had an ultrasound the next day to gauge how many follicles were growing inside of her and then they would start planning for the egg retrieval.
Claire paused, thinking about her life since she’d been back. How, even though things seemed more complicated, she felt a clarity she’d never achieved before. “I do,” she answered matter-of-factly as they approached Gabriela’s front door. “What about you guys?” she asked, studying their faces.
Ironically, even though her mom had just died, she felt more content with her life than the others did. Jessie had the complication of Peter’s involvement in Lucas’ life and worried if he would eventually confess their secret to Grant. Jessie had admitted to Claire recently that she’d be willing to risk him finding out later if it meant she’d get a few more years with Grant, knowing she couldn’t convince Peter to be the silent father forever. And Gabriela. If she stayed, there was still a chance she could get pregnant. Or become a bestselling author. Maybe even work things out with Colin, as Jessie and Claire had implored her to try to do. But there was also the risk that she’d end up with nothing. No baby. No career. No Colin.
Gabriela opened the door of her house to the sound of her phone ringing. “I’ve got to get that, it might be the doctor’s office,” she said, and ran inside.
“What about you? Do you know if you want to stay?” Claire asked Jessie as they followed Gabriela inside and eased into two chairs in the kitchen and took off their shoes.
Jessie sighed, rubbing the sole of her foot. “It’s so convoluted. There’s no way I can have the life I want whether I stay or go back. It’s like choosing between the lesser of two evils.”
“Because of Peter?”
Jessie nodded. “I’m still hoping I can get Peter to work things out with his wife. I’ve kind of been playing matchmaker between them.”
“Awkward,” Claire sang in a high voice, and shook her head.
“I know, right? I actually forced him to take her to dinner the other night and I watched their son, Sean. Lucas came with me. I took them for ice cream and Sean was really cute with Lucas. And I kept thinking, they are brothers. If I go back, Sean will miss out on all that time with him.”
“I sense a but coming,” Claire said, trying not to think of all the time Emily’s father had missed with Emily.
“But . . .” Jessie said slowly.
“Yeah, but what, Jessie?” Gabriela demanded, her arms crossed over her chest. “Please tell us.”
Claire’s eyes widened and Jessie felt her stomach drop to the floor with the force of a falling elevator.
“Oh, don’t stop talking on my account. Please, go on,” Gabriela fired back.
“Gabs.” Jessie rose to her feet.
“What the fuck, Jess? How could you not tell me this?” Gabriela’s eyes flashed with anger as she looked from Jessie to Claire. “How could you both keep this secret from me? You don’t trust me?”
“No, it’s not that at all, Gabs,” Claire said. “It’s much more complicated than that.”
“No, it’s not, Claire,” Gabriela said, turning toward Jessie. “Why, if we are all supposed to be best friends, didn’t you tell me who the real father of your son was?”
Jessie bit her lower lip. She had planned to tell Gabriela after they returned to this year, but the timing had never been right, especially when she hadn’t been able to conceive.
“And you,” Gabriela shot at Claire. “When did you find out?”
Claire’s face contorted as she tried to formulate an answer.
“You already knew about this? From the first time she had Lucas?”
Claire nodded slowly.
“I can’t believe you supported this, especially after everything with Emily’s dad. Your daughter didn’t get to grow up with her father, and she had so many problems as a result. And now you’re both sentencing Lucas to the same fate?”
“But he has Grant,” Jessie said quietly.
“Until he finds out, Jessie. God, this is why Grant left you last time. This is why you were dying to come back. To cover your tracks better.”
“It’s not like that,” Jessie began, but Gabriela cut her off.
“I came back here, not only for me, but for you, both of you,” she said, pointing at Jessie, then Claire. “I trusted you enough to come back in time, and you couldn’t even bother to tell me the truth about your intentions?” Gabriela wiped the tears that began cascading down her face. “My life has gone to hell, but hey! At least Jessie gets to hide her son’s paternity from the man she supposedly loves. Happy ending, everyone!” Gabriela’s voice was shaking. Rage burned inside her as she thought of how it had been Lucas’ birth that had convinced her to finally try to have a baby. Lucas. A baby conceived in infidelity. A baby that had made her so passionate to become a mom that she’d pushed her own husband away.
“Gabriela,” Jessie started once more, then stopped, hit hard by the fact she couldn’t give Gabriela answers when she didn’t have them for herself.
Gabriela held up her hand. “Just go.”
Claire took a step forward, but Gabriela jumped back in response. “Go. Please.”
Jessie grabbed Claire’s hand and their shoes and pulled her toward the door, both of them giving Gabriela one last look before clicking the front door carefully so it didn’t slam shut.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
* * *
June 2006
The hot June sun shone through the window as Gabriela hung up the phone, her shoulders shaking violently as she curled into the fetal position. She wanted to somehow feel closer to the baby she was now convinced would never be growing inside of her, the emptiness in her abdomen feeling cavernous. Three more months had passed and she was still no closer to becoming a mom. In fact, she felt further away from it than she ever had.
Dr. Larson had called her personally this time to tell her the fourth round of IVF had failed, Gabriela breaking into sobs the moment she heard her sympathy-laced voice. It didn’t work.
Dr. Larson reeled off the statistics of the likelihood of Gabriela ever carrying her own child, and as Gabriela contemplated the percentages, she decided she had a better chance of dying in a plane cra
sh than conceiving. The doctor had talked about Gabriela’s uterine lining and how she now believed it wasn’t thick enough to support the implantation of an embryo, no matter what drugs she prescribed to strengthen it. That, in combination with her low-grade egg quality, was going to make her odds even slimmer. The doctor never said never, but suggested looking into a surrogate and egg donor. Gabriela almost laughed out loud through her tears, wanting to say she’d also need a sperm donor now that Colin was gone. The doctor had no clue that she and Colin were separated and that he had warned Gabriela that she did not have his permission to try again if this cycle failed. He hadn’t even gone with her to the last egg retrieval or implantation surgery, calling at the last minute on both days with an excuse about work. Gabriela knew he was hurt after she insisted he move out ninety days ago, and this was his way of distancing himself.
After Gabriela finally picked herself up off the floor, she’d stared blankly at the gaping holes in her living room where the pieces of furniture Colin took when he left once stood, the indentation marks in the carpet still slightly visible. If someone walked in and saw the simple love seat and television that remained, they’d think Gabriela was also in the process of moving. Maybe she should. Rowan had come by earlier that week to check on her, a fresh stack of inspirational books under her arm.
“How are you?” she’d asked as her eyes darted around the room, no doubt surveying how depressing the once vibrant space had become.
“I’m okay,” Gabriela lied. She was not even close to okay.
“Have you seen Colin?” Rowan asked. “I really think—”
“Rowan,” Gabriela interrupted. “I love you, but please don’t.”
Rowan sighed. “I’m sorry. I just feel so helpless.”
“I know.” Gabriela looked at the deep frown lines around her mother-in-law’s mouth. She was hurting too. Gabriela knew she had the ability to take some of that pain away, even if only temporarily. So she walked over to the stack of books Rowan had carried in and pulled out Eckhart Tolle’s latest.
