by Beth Byers
“Are you ok?”
Somehow with Gus the question had been loving and protective. With Maye—with their baggage—it was painful.
“This is what we expected right? You had Gram read my leaves. You knew this would happen. You’ve been waiting for this all this time.”
“Every mother wants their child to be happy, Scarlett. You know this.”
Scarlett’s edges of anger dulled as she realized what her mother hadn’t said—that Scarlett had been waiting too. That she’d always known that it would eventually happen.
With the generosity of not pointing that fact out, Scarlett felt the first crack in the wall between herself and her mom.
But then Scarlett’s lips firmed and she scowled. “Then why did you have Gram read my future like that? Why didn’t you ask me? Why did you tell everyone how I would fail and never find happiness?”
Maye searched Scarlett’s face, eyes flicking back and forth as though she almost didn’t recognize her. As though Scarlett weren’t a younger version of her mother as much as Scarlett’s daughters were of her.
“I…” Maye faded out and shook her head.
“I followed my heart and my path. I’m sorry it hurt you.” Scarlett said softly and then because she wasn’t perfect, she added, “I wish you could have let me be free.”
Maye’s lips firmed and her face veiled her emotions, but Scarlett knew that move too well. Her mother regretted what she had done but not enough. Not enough for it to be ok. Not enough for her to easily let the hurt slide away. To forgive that in having Scarlett’s leaves read and then told what was in them—Maye hadn’t been giving Scarlett the chance to avoid her fate. Maye had simply stolen the full happiness that could have been Scarlett’s. Maye had taken the peace out of the quiet moments in giving them an expiration date.
“Wally isn’t back, and I need to check on the girls.” Scarlett put the broom away and walked out of the bakery and towards Harper’s funky little shop. “Tell him whatever you want. Maybe rehash my history, my leaves, and my future as you think you know it.”
“I’m sorry, Scarlett,” Maye said and there was a plea in her voice—regret. And Scarlett knew her mother meant it. But she didn’t stop. The thing was—there were some things that you couldn’t take back. There were some things that didn’t fix with two little words.
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Copyright
Copyright © 2018 by Amanda A. Allen, Beth Byers.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof
may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever
without the express written permission of the publisher
except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
