Promised Soul

by Sandra J. Jackson

  Sheila returned to her chair and waited for Krista.

  Four

  Upon entering the restaurant, I spotted my mother seated at a table in the corner, looking out the window. Though fifty-two years, she looked much younger than most women of the same age did, and she painted the perfect picture of health. Most folks could hardly believe we were mother and daughter.

  Her hair, like mine, was a honey blond but much shorter. She was holding a cup with one hand while tapping on the table with the other. It was hard to tell if she was upset that I was late or worried, either way she seemed to be deep in thought. I approached and slid into the bench seat across from her, an apology already on my lips. I was twenty minutes late.

  “I'm so sorry I'm late. I was on my way out the door –”

  “Don't worry dear, no need to explain,” she said, taking a sip from her cup.

  I narrowed my eyes and subtly shook my head in disbelief. She was far too casual, and there was no doubt in my mind that she was up to something. There was no way she would have ever been so relaxed about my being late. From where I was sitting, things did not look good.

  Just then, a server approached our table, and I was glad for the momentary distraction. Whatever my mother wanted, it could certainly wait.

  “Good morning! Would you like some coffee?” The server greeted me with a pot in her hand. The aroma wafting out led me to believe it was strong, just what I needed.

  “Yes, please.” I pushed my coffee cup toward her, watching as she filled it up.

  “I'll be back in a couple of minutes to take your order.” She walked away, and I watched as she headed towards another table, wishing that she had stayed a few seconds longer, anything to keep my mother from bringing up whatever she had on her mind.

  We picked up our menus, and by the time we each decided on our order, to my relief, the server returned. I was sure my mother was soon going to divulge the true reason behind our meeting.

  When the server left with our orders, I stalled my mother for as long as possible by talking about the previous night's firework displays, the weather, and anything else I thought of to keep her preoccupied. Unfortunately, she kept her answers brief, and after five minutes, an uncomfortable silence fell over the table.

  “So,” my mother began, “how's Brad?”

  There it was. She wanted to talk about my relationship or rather my ex-relationship. I had just broken up with Brad last Saturday, and he'd had a hard time letting go. We had spoken almost every night at first until he finally understood me. I had loved him enough to know that he deserved better and more, even so it had been a difficult week. We had been together for one year, two months and five days – my longest relationship. I had cried myself to sleep every night after we spoke, worrying about him. Between speaking with Brad, seeking consolation from my friends, finishing the last week of school, and trying to change my travel plans, the week had been nothing but worry, stress, and tears. I did not want to relive it again with my mother.

  “He's fine,” I said examining the fresh daisies in the vase sitting on the table before me and avoiding my mother's gaze. I knew that she'd guess the minute she looked at my eyes that I was hiding something. The only person I hadn't told about my breakup was her. In the past, it only resulted in her disappointment, and I believed it would be far worse than any time before. Brad had been her favourite.

  “Fine? That's not what I've heard.”

  I looked up from my distraction and found my mother staring at me. “What do you mean by that?” I didn't want to show any alarm, but suddenly I was worried about Brad, we hadn't spoken over the past three days.

  “I ran into Brad's sister, and she told me you broke up with him.” She folded her arms and leaned forward on to the table.

  “Where exactly did you run into her?” My eyebrows raised. I was surprised that she'd even remembered Brad had a sister let alone recognized her, after all they'd only met once or twice. Alicia was never one to wear the same look for very long; even I had difficulty recognizing her on occasion.

  “I saw her at the YMCA last Monday… when I went swimming.”

  I sputtered and almost choked on my coffee. “You go to the Y?”

  The thought of my mother actually exercising was enough to stun me, let alone envision it, which of course I couldn't – at all.

  “Yes, honey; I started last Monday. They have a great pool, and it's wonderful exercise.”

  “Sorry mom, I just never took you as the exercising type.”

  My mother ignored my statement. “Anyhow, I ran into Alicia, and she told me how you broke her brother's heart. I was quite shocked to hear the news and felt silly that I hadn't heard anything about it. So when were you planning on telling me?”

  In truth, I did not intend to tell her. Certainly, it would have come out at some point in conversation, but as for calling her specifically for that reason alone – that wasn't going to happen. I shrugged. “I don't know.” It wasn't really the answer I knew she wanted to hear, but I just couldn't bring myself to get into any details about my love life or rather ex-love life. We weren't like that, we weren't close. We used to be – once.

  “You don't know?” My mother's eyes widened with disbelief.

  I sighed, “I just wanted to get this past week behind me. Breaking up with Brad wasn't easy, but it was for the best.” I was determined to show my mother that it was the right decision.

  “Are you sure you breaking up with Brad was the right thing? You know by the time I was 27 years old I had been married for six years, and you were four.” My mother folded her hands and placed them on the table.

  If there was one thing I knew about my mother, my answer wasn't going to be enough – I had to give her more, enough that would make her understand, enough that we could both live with.

  “Believe me; it wasn't easy for me either. I loved Brad, but not the way he deserved. I didn't want to hurt him, but it's better this way. Trust me.” I blinked back the tears. My mother couldn't see me get emotional over it. It was over, and I was not going back to something that wasn't right. I sipped my coffee, hoping the warmth would take the edge off.

  Seconds passed before she spoke again, and I could tell she was trying to choose her words carefully.

  “I'm sorry. I just want you to be happy. I worry sometimes that… well, that you won't find someone special to spend your life with and selfishly… that I won't be a grandmother.”

  Shocked, stunned, surprised – that was not what I had expected her to say.

  “How can you be so sure he wasn't the right one for you?” She looked me in the eyes.

  It was a difficult question to answer, but fortunately, the server came back with our meals, giving me some time to think. The moment she left, I carefully began forming my response; knowing if I didn't, my mother would hound me with more questions until I did.

  “I don't know Mom. It's like there was something missing.”

  “What was missing? I don't understand.”

  I squinted, unsure that there was an explanation, and then it came to me. “Mom, you and dad had something special. Something even strangers could see when they looked at you.” My mother nodded, and I continued. “Uncle Brian said something about the way the two of you looked at each other. He said you shared a connection on a plain that was different from everyone else; like you belonged only to each other. That's what I want – that's what I was missing.” I took a bite of my food, happy for the momentary silence, and quite proud of myself for my explanation.

  My mother reached across the table and patted my hand. “I want that for you, too,” she smiled.

  I looked at her and for the first time, I really believed she understood me.

  “Well, now that you're single again –”

  “Mom I just –”

  “Please let me finish. How soon do you think you'll want to start dating?”

  I laughed. It wasn't funny, but I couldn't help myself. I looked at her in disbelief. “Geesh!
Mom are you serious?”

  She nodded, and I waited for her to finish eating so she could explain.

  “I met some old friends of mine at the golf course and their son, Doug, has just ended a long relationship. It just occurred to me that you knew him back in school, and maybe you could meet him,” she rambled.

  I almost choked again on my food. Of all things, my mother was playing golf and trying to set me up.

  “Wait! Since when do you play golf?” I hoped for a long answer to my question and a distraction from her matchmaking.

  “Oh…, I started about three weeks ago. So do you remember Doug Saunders, and more importantly, would you like to meet him?” She finished her last bite of food, placed her cutlery and napkin on her plate, and pushed it all to the side.

  Her answer wasn't the result I was hoping for, and my shoulders slumped in resignation. There was no way to get around the matchmaking thing.

  “No.” I shook my head. I couldn't believe what my mother was thinking. I finished my meal, pushing my plate aside. “God! I can't believe you're actually asking me if I'd be interested in meeting him!”

  “Well no… Not right away, maybe in a few weeks when you're feeling up to it.”

  My heartbeat quickened a little and my cheeks warmed. My mother wasn't exactly aware of the change of plans I'd made to my upcoming trip. If she was upset about me not telling her of my breakup, she was definitely going to be upset about me leaving for the whole summer, especially if she heard it from someone else.

  “Mom, there's something else I need to tell you.” I leaned forward and clasped my hands in prayer fashion.

  “What is it, honey?” There was a notable sound of concern in her voice. I had her full attention.

  “I'm leaving for England a week from tomorrow,” I blurted.

  Though her face didn't quite betray her feelings, her voice certainly did. “You're still going?” she asked.

  “Yes, I'm still going. You know how long I have wanted this; I've been saving forever. I've finally got my chance, and I'm not going to back out now.” I was calm and sat back in my seat, my hands resting in my lap. My resolve was strong.

  At that moment, our server returned, and my mother quickly asked her to bring our bill before she could even ask if we wanted anything else, sending her away a split second after she'd arrived at our table.

  “So you're leaving soon. For how long?”

  I took my time before answering. My mother was sure to be disappointed when she heard the news. I looked down at my hands and took a deep breath. “Ah… for the summer, I won't be back until the end of August.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but I reached over and touched her arm, stopping her.

  “Please, I know you're upset, but I need this… I need to find… me.” I let out a breath and felt my shoulders relax as the epiphany struck.

  She closed her eyes and nodded. “Okay,” she said quietly. “Okay.”

  Her unexpected acceptance amazed me. She didn't try to talk me out of it instead she just sat there nodding, her eyes closed. When she opened them again, she looked at me and smiled. “Well I guess meeting Doug will have to wait for when you come home.”

  “Huh! Yeah, okay,” I agreed shaking my head, what more was there to say.

  I waited at the corner for the walk signal, realizing at that moment meeting my mother for brunch hadn't been too horrific. She had even taken the news of my plans for the summer better than expected, not to mention my breakup. My mind replayed our conversation, and I snickered a little recalling how soon she attempted matchmaking.

  Our brunch continued playing in my head as I crossed the intersection and headed towards my car. My mother could have made things very uncomfortable, but she hadn't, and it was refreshing. She had changed somehow. It was as though we were beginning a new phase in our relationship, and that was appealing. There was definitely a sense of freedom and relief knowing that I could concentrate fully on my trip and not have to worry about anything else.

  Just as I was about to round the corner, I sidestepped abruptly to avoid stepping in a rather large pile left behind by man's best friend. Shaking my head at the thought of the irresponsible owner coupled with my sudden movement – the collision was inevitable. I veered into the path of an unsuspecting pedestrian rounding the corner from the opposite direction and slammed right into him. For a moment, we held each other's gaze, stunned by the impact, much like a bird that has flown into a window. His eyes were so penetrating that I had to look away, though there was something so familiar about them.

  “Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to…” I blurted, bending down to pick up my purse.

  “That's okay; I wasn't paying any attention and…” I heard him say as I bent forward and suddenly found my head knocking into his.

  “Ow!” I stood up quickly and rubbed the top of my head.

  “Ooh! Sorry!”

  My purse dangled from his hand while his other pressed against his forehead. We stood for an uncomfortable second staring at each other in silence.

  “Can I have my purse now?” I said annoyed, still rubbing the top of my head.

  “Oh! Sorry!” He held out my purse.

  “Thanks.” I snatched it from his hand.

  “Sure, no problem.”

  We stared at each other again, and again I had to look away.

  “Do I know you?” he asked.

  I tilted my head slightly to the side and narrowed my eyes. I considered his question as my mind sorted through my memories. My eyes moved over his face and scanned it, carefully searching for any little thing or quirk. I looked for anything, which might jog my memory, but there was nothing. His deep brown eyes seemed to be the only thing about him that was even the slightest bit memorable – familiar. Suddenly, I began to feel uncomfortable as his eyes locked with mine.

  “No, I don't think so, thanks again,” I muttered, finally pulling myself away.

  “It was nice bumping into you, uh, I mean…” he called after me, but I ignored him and quickened my pace.

  Once safely inside my car, I closed my eyes and rested my throbbing head on the headrest for a second. “That was very weird.”

  I started the car and looked in the rear-view mirror before signalling and pulling out. He was still standing on the corner staring after me, and I was still able to feel his eyes boring into mine.

  Five

  The two and a quarter-hour drive from London to Tockington was pleasant, though quiet, as Aaron and Peter shared little conversation. Aaron was glad for the quiet and the good sense his friend showed in keeping his usual talkativeness to a minimum. He was too concerned about his mother to be in any drawn out conversations, and the only time they spoke was to comment on the weather and the road conditions. Still, despite the lack in dialogue, Aaron was grateful for the company and the notion that while he was alone in his thoughts it was comforting to have someone with him.

  Aaron pulled his car into the drive of his childhood home. The mature trees standing along the right hand side arched overhead, sheltering the driveway. Along the left, a multitude of gardens in bloom surrounded the nineteenth century, two-story, stone home. Aaron pulled up to the garage at the end of the drive, parked and turned off the car, but the two men remained where they sat.

  “Well I guess we should go in,” Aaron said after a moment with a somewhat halting voice, his hands still gripped the steering wheel. He wanted to see his mother – to reassure her, but at the same time, he was afraid.

  Peter looked at his friend with concern but waited until Aaron made the first move to leave the car. Finally, after another moment, Aaron took a deep breath and opened the door, Peter followed suit. The two friends headed to the front door together. Aaron raised his hand to ring the bell, but before he could, the door opened.

  “Aaron! What a lovely surprise, and you've brought Peter with you. Come in, come in, your mother will be so happy to see you; you're just what the doctor ordered!” A small, plump, older woman with ro
sy cheeks exclaimed, as she wiped her hands on the tartan apron she was wearing.

  Aaron and Peter stepped into the house, closing the door behind them.

  “Aunt Jane, what a surprise, I didn't expect to find you here.” Aaron leaned over and kissed his aunt on the cheek. “Is Mum alright?”

  When Aaron had seen his mother two weeks ago, she was getting by on her own fine. So, when Jane, his mother's only sister, answered the door, he quite naturally thought his mother had taken a turn for the worse. The look of worry was evident in Aaron's eyes, but Jane put him to ease as quickly as she could.

  “She's fine, Aaron,” Jane said, reaching over to her nephew and patting his arm. “I just arrived to keep her company this week.”

  Aaron nodded, a look of relief crossing his face, though he was still not entirely convinced.

  “Hello, Aunt Jane, it's so nice to see you.” Peter hugged Jane and gave her a peck on the cheek. “I must say, I'm happy that you remembered my name. It must be at least ten years since we last saw each other,” Peter said teasingly.

  “I should say, Peter, you still have that lovely ginger hair, I don't think I'll ever forget it, though it seems a lot less unruly now,” Jane teased back as she looked at Peter's head.

  Peter ran a hand over his very short, red hair. As a young boy, he wore it long, and the longer it grew, the curlier and more untamed it became. At times it looked as though the locks of hair were flames dancing on his head.

  “Funny, I hated it as a child. Now that my dad's gone, well, it reminds me of him every time I look in the mirror.”

  “Your father was a fine man, and handsome, too, if I dare say. I think you have more in common with him then just your hair, lad,” Jane said, winking at Peter and trying to lighten the mood.

  “I love your aunt; she certainly knows a good looking bloke when she sees one.” Peter looked at Jane and winked back, causing her already rosy cheeks to become slightly rosier.