“That’s not fair, Amanda,” she said, her voice vibrating in her throat. She’d asked me to bare all, and now that I had, she was quick to defend herself. And I wasn’t being fair? “You know that’s not who I am.”
“No, I don’t,” I snapped. “Because just like you don’t know anything about me, I don’t know anything about you. All I have to go on are those final memories you left us with. And let me tell you something, Mom: you don’t come out smelling like a rose.”
She closed her eyes.
I’m sure it didn’t come as a huge shock to her that I’d overheard many of the arguments in the final days of their marriage. You want to give me an ultimatum, Jim? Great. I choose the show. I almost wondered if show was a code word for Ronnie, since he’s ultimately what she’d chosen anyway. I never wanted this life. And somehow that was our fault. Somehow the fact that Mom got stuck living a life she’d never imagined for herself had become everyone else’s fault but her own. I wasn’t cut out to be someone’s wife, and I sure as hell wasn’t meant to be someone’s mom.
And yet she wondered how I could hold on to so much anger …
“I can’t take back what I said.” She started to move toward me but stopped. Torn by indecision, she didn’t know how to approach me. “All I can do is apologize, and hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I should’ve never let you go.”
“You know, it’s funny,” I said. “I feel like we’re talking about the same thing here, but it’s astonishing that we remember it so differently.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You recall letting us go, and I vividly remember you kicking us out. There’s a difference.”
“You’re right. I did.”
For a moment, I swear my heart stopped beating. She wasn’t going to deny it. I’d honestly expected her to stand there and argue that, to twist her words, and try to skew the conversation I’d burned to memory. The fact that she owned it, that she didn’t even try to weasel around it ... it somehow earned her a fraction of my respect.
“I have one question.”
“Anything,” she said, faint hope in her voice.
“Did you think that coming here tonight was going to do you any good?”
“I didn’t know what to expect,” she said, looking to the floor. “But I had faith. I was hopeful that you would at least … ”
And as she kept talking, droning on in the background, I didn’t hear a single word that she said. It wasn’t her voice echoing in my ears, but Gabe’s. Faith. I often forget to practice what I preach.
I closed my eyes. No sooner than his words hit me like a blast, I was back in Lenora Bennett’s room all over again, now hearing the determined words I’d spoken to her.
I know how good it feels to have the upper hand, how amazing it feels to torture the people who’ve hurt us. But at the end of the day, we know the difference between right and wrong. Life doesn’t go on forever. Shouldn’t you make the most of it while you’re both still here?
Again, the memory of Gabe’s advice resounded in my head. You’re not any better than she is if you keep closing her out, hurting her, because you know you have the power to do so.
A tear slipped down my cheek.
I often forget to practice what I preach.
It seemed that Gabe and I shared that one common problem.
All too often I was ready to tell people exactly what they needed to hear, but I hadn’t stopped hiding behind my anger long enough to realize that I’d already known how to handle Mom since the moment she showed up at the house. All this time, I hid. I thought I couldn’t do it, that I wouldn’t have the ability to face the situation or face her. And after all of the wedges, all of the mean things I’d said, all of the distance I’d put between us … I’d had the power all along.
I’d told Lenora Bennett exactly what I should’ve been telling myself.
I swallowed hard, still biting back the tears.
I’d continuously said that I would give Mom a chance when the time was right, but I’d never intended to. I was too busy holding onto anger, a grudge, and the past. Like Dad, I was as willing to brush Mom off and let her walk away without ever giving her an opportunity. But what kind of person would I be if I preached to Lenora Bennett the beauty of giving chances, and yet I couldn’t even give my own mother a chance? I’d be a hypocrite, and Mandy Parker was no hypocrite. So, if for no other reason than to do exactly what I’d asked someone else to do, I had to give Mom exactly what she wanted—her chance, for real this time.
“Well,” I said calmly, despite the pressure I felt in my chest, “if you’re gonna stay and talk, at least pick up the mop. That floor’s not gonna clean itself.”
She let go of a breath at once, smiling in spite of her tears. She picked up the mop, dipped it back into the bucket of water at her side, and started in on the floor where I’d left off. I turned away and headed for the counter, taking a clean rag to wipe it down.
“You said the wedding’s off,” I said. “What happened with Ronnie?”
“He had an affair,” Mom said. She didn’t look at me as she answered, only focused on cleaning the floor.
“How’s that old saying go?” I asked, quirking a brow. “How you get him’s how you lose him?” That stopped her, and we stared at each other for a long minute. Mom was realizing that, unlike my sister, I knew all about the affair that’d ended our parents’ marriage. “I made him tell me.”
“Your sister doesn’t know,” Mom said, mopping again. “I assumed maybe you didn’t either.”
“It’s not like Dad wanted to tell me, and we weren’t about to tell Bailey. She didn’t even know about Ronnie. We thought it would be better if she didn’t.”
“I wish I would’ve known that before I said anything about the wedding last week,” Mom said. “I almost lost her over that.”
“But she knows now—at least some of it,” I said. “So you and Ronnie are done for good, then?”
“When he cheated,” she said, still focusing on the floor, “I was blindsided.” I expected a tear, maybe even a crack in her voice, but Mom maintained her composure. “He was sleeping with one of the neighbors. It was happening right under my nose.” She kept working, pretending to focus her attention to cleaning the nooks and crannies of the bakery floor, but I could tell that she was much more concerned with finding her next words. “I felt so stupid, so used. It wasn’t until then that it hit me how horribly I’d treated your father.” I couldn’t believe it had taken her four years to see the pain she’d caused him, but at least the realization had finally hit her, and that had to mean something. “It was the worst pain I’d ever experienced—not losing him, but the stupidity I felt when I realized what was going on,” she said.
Both of us worked quietly for a few minutes, letting the silence create a moment for us to think.
“I’m sure you’re thinking I deserved it.”
“No,” I shook my head, “not at all.”
“I do,” she said. “I did. I did the very same thing to my husband, and I didn’t feel the least bit of remorse in doing so.” She looked to me. “And now remorse is all I feel. I had to find him and apologize.”
“So this wasn’t about coming back for the family?” I asked calmly. It was about forgiveness, about redemption. “You didn’t really want to be with Dad?”
“That might’ve been true at first,” she said. “But then I decided to reach out. Before I called, before I booked that ticket out of LA, I wanted to know what I was getting myself into. I found some of Bailey’s social media pages, and they were littered with pictures of her and Jones, of Jim.” She smiled at the recollection, but then her expression turned solemn. “There were a few mentions of you here and there, but no photographs anywhere on her page. It concerned me that you two weren’t close ... you were always so close. I worried something might’ve been wrong,” Mom continued. “So naturally I dug a little deeper. I found all of the articles and clips about RI and Gabe.” Her lips curved again, h
er smile growing wider. “When I saw that video … I saw your Dad up on that stage, happy. I saw you down there on the ground, spilling your guts to this guy at the mic, and I realized … I don’t even know who these people are. I should know them. Once upon a time, that was my family.”
“You made up your mind, though,” I said. “Dad fought for you.”
“I know,” she said quietly, and I swore that I heard it for the first time in those two words—Mom realized what she’d lost. “I pushed all three of you away, and that’s something I will have to live with for the rest of my life.”
My dry eyes stung with a rush of tears, and I suddenly found myself struggling to catch a breath.
“Please believe me when I tell you that this is not how I wanted our lives to turn out,” Mom said. “I made a selfish decision. I turned my back on you, and there will never be a day that I don’t hate myself for that. I know I’ve caused more damage than I can ever fix. I know now that your father is never going to listen to me; he’ll never give me a chance to say these things to him, not the way you and Bailey have. All I can do is hope that time will change things, and maybe someday he’ll at least allow me a chance to apologize.”
“I’m sure he will,” I said, but even as I said it, I didn’t believe it. That stubbornness that I had, that quality that Bailey and I had been accused of having for most of our lives, we came by it very honestly. Dad was set in his ways; he’d lived all of his years that way, stubborn to the core, and I doubted that he would ever change. And even though I’d never expect him to open his heart to her again, I could at least hope that, in time, he’d lend her his ears.
“I recognize that my expectations were high,” Mom said. “After everything we’ve been through, I’m not surprised at this ending. But honestly, I’m okay with this—getting a chance to tell you that I’m sorry. Because I am, Amanda. I am so sorry for all of the pain I’ve caused all three of you.”
I turned away, pretending to wipe the window between the kitchen and the storefront. I didn’t want her to see my tears—not the ones in my eyes, nor the ones streaming down my cheeks. She was apologizing, and I was supposed to tell her what every person seeking redemption wants to hear—that it was okay, that all was forgiven.
But I wasn’t there yet. I wasn’t ready.
“You said I could talk,” I said, turning back to her. I dried my tears with the back of my hand and drew in a deep breath. “You said that you welcomed the idea of hearing what I had to say, what I’ve been wanting to say since you showed up.”
“Absolutely.”
“Then I want to know one thing.”
“Anything.”
“Why him?” I asked, losing tears again. “We were right there, Mom—all three of us. Dad, Bailey, and I, we all wanted you. We kept fighting; we kept holding on. We would’ve done anything to be your number one choice, but you wouldn’t let us. So why him? Why did you choose Ronnie?”
Mom looked down to the floor. “It was a selfish decision.”
“You think I don’t know it was a selfish decision? I want more than that. I want to know why. Why him? What made him worth fighting for? What made us so easily disposable? What else could we have done?”
“It was easy with Ronnie,” she said. “When I talked, he listened. I enjoyed his company. I loved the way I felt with him. When I would come home at the end of every day, all I could think about was the next time I’d see him again.” She didn’t like admitting that; I could see it on her face. She was ashamed to admit that her thoughts were always with someone else. “I don’t know what happened with Jim; we sort of lost our way. He was always focused on his work, being the next big thing, and you girls … you never did anything wrong. I wanted freedom, and I didn’t care what it cost to get it. I was selfish, down to my very core.”
If that wasn’t complete and utter honesty, then I didn’t want to know the truth, because hearing that was painful enough. But at least she could tell the truth, as hard as it was to hear.
“You never called.”
“I thought that if you wanted to talk to me, you’d call. And when I never heard from you, I assumed you didn’t need me. Jim promised you would all be better without me, and somewhere deep down in my heart, I hoped that was true. Sure, I thought of calling plenty of times, but I didn’t know if it was a welcome gesture. I didn’t know if you even had room for me in your lives.” Mom was no longer focused on anything but watching me. “What can I do to make this better? How do I make you stop hating me?”
“I don’t hate you, Mom,” I said, surprising even myself with those words. “I’m hurt, and it’s going to take a while for that pain to go away.”
“I’m doing the best I can—”
“And I understand that,” I said. “Mom, I get that you’re trying to move on, and getting our forgiveness is a huge step toward being able to do that. I admire your courage to recognize and admit what you’ve done wrong, but now I need you to respect that I’m not ready to act like the last four years didn’t happen.”
Mom nodded, and then a single tear fell down her cheek. She turned slowly, dipping the mop back into the bucket, and she propped the handle against the wall.
“I’m flying out on Monday,” she said, her eyes heavy with tears. “I won’t bother you again while I’m here, but … if you want to talk again, you know where to find me.”
“Mom—”
“It’s okay, sweetheart,” she said. “I asked for a chance and you gave that to me. Now that you’re asking for time, it wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t give that to you. I’ll leave you to close up.”
And as quickly as she’d walked through that bakery door, Mom was gone again, disappearing into the dark of the night.
I leaned against the counter, taking a deep breath, and allowing myself a slow count to ten when my phone buzzed in my pocket again. I pulled it out to find another message from Gabe.
You still there? Everything okay?
I steadied my breath and wiped my tears. I honestly didn’t know. Was I okay? Talking to Mom was the last thing I’d expected going into the night, and after everything we’d said, I couldn’t make any sense of my emotions. After all the time we spent apart, all the time I tried to avoid her, I let Mom talk. I let her say the things she’d come here to say, and I’d even gotten some answers of my own.
Mandy?
Another message, and that one made me smile. He was worried about me, concerned when I hadn’t answered. I tapped a button on the screen to call him, and he picked up after the first ring.
“Thank God. You’re alive.” That’s how he answered, a tiny smile in his tone.
“Alive,” I promised, but my voice cracked with the one word.
“Mandy, what’s going on? Is everything okay?”
“Do you have a few minutes?”
“Of course I do.”
“You’re sure?” I asked, wiping another tear. “Because I think I need to talk.”
“Then I’m hanging up the phone,” he said quickly. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Chapter Twenty
We stayed up all night talking, just the two of us. Gabe and I did what we’d always done so well—we walked … around the block, around Sugar Creek, and all the way back again until his tiny limp became more and more noticeable. I told him everything that had happened—from the dinner on Wednesday night to Jones’s visit before work, and then the conversation that unfolded with Mom at the bakery.
And when we stopped walking and ended up at the house, we only made it as far as the porch swing. He sat on one end, and I rested my head in his lap, looking out at the world. As I lay talking and crying, he caressed my hair and listened to me. Sometime after my eyes couldn’t last another second awake, I fell asleep right there on the porch.
He must’ve carried me inside at some point, because I woke up the next morning in my own bed with a note at my side. See you tonight. I love you.
###
“Wow, they really pulled this thi
ng off,” I said, leaning against the back wall of the gymnasium the next night. I don’t know why I sounded so surprised when I said it. There hadn’t been a doubt in my mind that Fletcher was going to lead our district into the best finale possible.
You couldn’t even tell it was Sugar Creek High School. Bailey’s team of expert designers had transformed the gym into something spectacular in only a matter of hours. The team, and the team alone. Bailey hadn’t held up her end of the deal; she never showed up to help Fletcher, which hadn’t surprised me much, given her track record.
To my surprise, she showed up at school again today, probably so she wouldn’t have to miss out on the dance. Still, I was surprised when I saw her walk into the gym, dressed in a beautiful black gown and her hair swept up in an elegant bun. She hadn’t spoken a word to me since the dinner on Wednesday night, and she hadn’t looked in my direction once.
She sat at a table, alone in the back, and watched Jones as he played. I, too, watched Jones behind his drum set, carried away and lost in the beat, and I couldn’t help but wonder how their dinner had gone the night before.
Extra Bacon was entertaining the entire crowd. All across the floor there were students, parents, grandparents, and more, all enjoying the expertly planned party. Even the ticket sales at the door were through the roof. It was a success if I’d ever seen one.
“You did this, you know?” Gabe said, draping an arm around my shoulders. “This was all you.”
“Are you crazy?” I asked, shaking my head. “Sure, it was my plan, my hope, my ambition for the program, but I didn’t execute this. That was all on Fletcher. He called the shots; he made this happen.”
Gabe gave me a gentle squeeze. “Big turnout.”
“You think it’ll be enough to secure the win?” I asked. After all, the results were going to be announced the very next day. This was, in every sense of the word, Sugar Creek’s final attempt at getting ahead.
“It’s hard to say,” he shrugged a shoulder. “The Desden team is holding a major auction as we speak. In terms of progress, ideas, and carry-through, it’s dead even. The money will be the final tiebreaker for the districts.”
Breaking Ties Page 17
