A Mother's Strength

by Allie Pleiter

  “Do you want to leave?”

  That wasn’t a fair question. “I have to.”

  “That’s not what I asked. Tell me the honest, messy truth, Sawyer. Do you want to leave?”

  It felt like cracking his chest open to say, “No.” Even the pain he felt here, deep as it was, wouldn’t be as bad as the nothingness he’d feel if he went anywhere else.

  “Then don’t.” She just stood there, as if it were that easy.

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “I think it is. Oh, it’s not easy. It’s hard. Really hard. Leaving’s easy, but it’s way worse. I’m furious at you. I’m frustrated. I’m not at all sure how we get it into that thick head of yours what it means to be part of a community.”

  “I’m not part of this community,” he balked, her touchy-feely words ridiculous to him. Just as ridiculous was her belief that he had somehow gotten connected here. Just the opposite—he’d gone to great lengths to stay disconnected.

  “You are,” she countered. “I...we...” She threw her hands up in frustration. “You are.”

  He suddenly realized he needed to know. “Do you want me to leave?” He wasn’t even asking about Zack. He was asking about her. She’d know that.

  Her eyes narrowed. “I’m so mad at you right now I could spit. And I don’t get mad at people very often.”

  Molly lived life at one hundred and ten percent. That was what drew him so strongly to her. He hadn’t lived even half a life since the accident. She had all this passion for life and people, and it had felt good to let himself get sucked into just the edges of it. Somewhere down inside his empty self he found the guts to say, “That’s not what I asked.”

  Molly crossed her arms over her chest. “What else haven’t you told me?”

  He knew it right then. If he chose to stay, he had to stay on Molly’s terms. Honesty. Trying at this community thing. Sticking around for Zack. Dana’s earlier words came back to him, the ones about being the solution Steve wouldn’t be. He’d always hated it when Dana was right.

  It should be a hard decision. After all, he’d made the opposite choice for months now. But the truth was staring him in the face—literally. Molly knew now. She’d seen the worst of him and still didn’t want him to leave. The persistence in that woke something up inside him. That whole mercy business she talked about—maybe this was what it looked like. He didn’t deserve it, and she was offering it anyway. Wasn’t that how she said it worked?

  He felt exposed. Indebted. Out of control. Lousy. It was way more uncomfortable than he’d guessed. Now his own words came back to him. Not lousy, just new.

  What would he show to Zack if he left now because it got messy? Maybe he really was ready to do the work it would take to stay. It’d be worth it. Zack was worth it. Molly was worth it.

  She simply stood there, expecting an answer.

  The biggest surprise was that there really wasn’t another big secret. He’d taken one incident and let it define his entire life. Why hadn’t he seen that until just this moment?

  Molly. Molly was why. Molly was the answer to a lot of whys.

  A small spark of returning life accompanied his answer to her demand for further secrets: “I hate the Beatles.”

  Molly shook her head in confusion. “What?”

  “The Beatles. Everybody thinks they’re the best band in the world and I know you love their music and the whole world disagrees with me, but I can’t stand them.”

  Something wondrous lit behind her eyes. “That’s a terrible opinion.”

  “I know. And you’ll probably hold it against me.”

  “I may have to.” Just enough of the old Molly returned to let him exhale.

  They’d come back from the edge. Molly had pushed him up to the brink of the big dark abyss that could easily swallow him, but they had turned back. He hadn’t thought that possible. He’d always dug his heels in against his slow drag to the edge of the cliff, sure once he got to it there was no hope but to jump over.

  But there wasn’t “no hope,” there was hope. It just took work. It took Molly.

  She was still looking at him like he was a circus freak. “Seriously. You hate the Beatles. No one hates the Beatles.” Her scowl was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. He knew, right at that moment, that he would do whatever it took not to leave.

  “No one but me, evidently.” It took him a minute to recognize the sensation that showed up. Relief. A messy, hard-won tendril of relief pushed up inside Sawyer. The weight that had pushed against him nonstop since the accident lifted just the littlest bit. It wasn’t all gone—maybe it would never be all gone—but it had lifted a little. Even if staying meant he was only allowed on the edges of her life and Zack’s, it would be worth the effort it would take. Relief was here, not in hiding somewhere else. Not in hiding at all.

  “You have a lot of changing to do.” Her voice was tender but serious. They weren’t talking about music anymore.

  “I know.” With a pop of clarity, it hit him what he had to do next. “I’m sorry. I should have trusted you enough to tell you about the accident. And I shouldn’t have gone to Steve without telling you.”

  “You shouldn’t have gone to Steve at all.”

  He wasn’t quite ready to concede that. “That man needed to hear what he was throwing away.”

  Sawyer could see the sentiment behind that statement sink into Molly. He wasn’t ready to tell her how much he cared about her, but that would come close enough for now.

  “Apology accepted.”

  They both glanced at each other and around the dim room, unsure what to do next.

  It gave him an idea. “Come play golf on Friday. I’ll find a set of clubs for you.”

  She waved him away. “No, that’s Zack’s thing.”

  “It doesn’t have to be.” Sawyer cringed at his insistence, feeling as awkward as a teenager asking a way-out-of-his-league girl out on a date.

  “It should be.” There was something off about her answer. Her tone and her eyes didn’t match. He wasn’t quite sure how he knew that. Maybe it was just wishful thinking on his part. She’d told him before she wanted golf to be about Zack and nothing more. Who was he to try and push back on that? Just because they’d made peace as friends didn’t mean the door had been opened for anything more than friendship.

  Only Sawyer knew—now more than ever—that what he wanted didn’t stop at friendship.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sawyer stood beside the Mountain Vista parking lot Friday morning with a bakery box in his hand. This was a dumb idea. Carrot cake. Not exactly the path to a woman’s heart, is it? But since Zack had let it slip it was Molly’s favorite, he’d somehow thought it was a good idea to meet her with a slice as she dropped Zack off for today’s lesson.

  He knew the minute she pulled up it was going to be a rough day. Molly’s eyes looked tired and strained, and Zack’s chin was practically sunk into his chest. The boy scrambled out of the back seat and yanked his little bag of clubs onto the grass as Molly closed her eyes, hanging on to the last shreds of her composure.

  “Maybe it was a good day for this after all,” he said, handing her the box through the front passenger window she’d lowered.

  She raised an eyebrow in surprise.

  “Carrot cake,” he offered. “Zack said it was your favorite.”

  Sawyer wasn’t sure what to make of the fact that his gift welled up tears in her eyes. He’d done something wrong. “I just figured I owed you,” he explained. The “I wanted to do something nice for you” he’d planned to say no longer seemed to fit the moment.

  “Thank you,” she said, her voice thin and unsteady. “It is my favorite. But you don’t owe me.”

  I do. A lot, Sawyer thought but didn’t say. He did manage a quiet “You okay?” as Zack stomped off toward the putting greens.


  “Fine,” she managed, looking anything but.

  “I’ll go catch up with Zack. Go find someplace peaceful and enjoy that cake. I’ll see how much of the grump I can get out of him before you come back.” On an impulse he added, “How about I bring him back for you? I can drop him off at home and give you a bit more time?”

  “You’d do that?” She looked way more grateful than an extra twenty minutes of solitude should warrant, but maybe that was the world some days to a single mother.

  “Sure.” He gestured toward the back seat. “I’ll need that booster seat thing, right?”

  “Oh, um...yeah, you will.”

  He caught her reflection in the rearview mirror as he unstrapped the booster seat. She was barely holding it together. Something was wrong, something more than just a bad day from Zack. Keep an eye on her. He flung the thought heavenward before he realized that just might be considered a prayer.

  * * *

  Zack was a touchy, sour mess for most of the lesson. Foul moods usually made for terrible golf, and today was no exception. Sawyer was just about to call off any hope of learning when he realized Zack was crying.

  Crying? He had no idea how to deal with little boys in tears. Anger and fear he recognized, but crying?

  He walked over to Zack. “Whoa. Hey, what’s wrong?” He tried to give his voice the soft tones Molly always used.

  “You gave Mom cake. Did you give Mom cake because she’s sick? People always brought Mom cake when she was sick.” A gush of fearful words tumbled out of the poor guy. “She’s sick again, isn’t she? I heard her talking about doctors to someone when she thought I was in bed.” His lower lip trembled and the full onslaught of tears came. “Mom’s gonna die, isn’t she?”

  “Whoa. Slow down there, Zack.” He came up close to Zack, who simply wrapped his arms around Sawyer’s legs and sobbed. Sawyer sank to the grass and pulled the boy onto his lap. “Hey. Hang on there.” He held the boy’s heaving shoulders and tried to think of comforting things to say. “It’s okay,” he said over and over as he patted Zack on the back. He was terrible at this sort of thing.

  Finally, as Zack seemed to get all the chaos out and catch his breath, Sawyer leaned back to catch the boy’s red-rimmed gaze. “Where’d all that come from?”

  “Mom was really sick when I was l-l-little,” Zack offered in a damp stutter.

  You’re still little, Sawyer thought with a surge of affection that stole his breath. “I know that,” he said as he fished a tissue from his pocket and held it out. “But she’s okay now.” After he said that, Sawyer realized he didn’t actually know that to be true. He’d assumed all her distress to be on account of his going to Steve, but maybe there was more. It seemed beyond wrong, beyond all that mercy she always talked about, if she really was sick again. A wail of a No! to match Zack’s tears welled up in Sawyer’s gut.

  “She’s not okay,” Zack replied, ignoring the offered tissue and wiping his nose on his sleeve. “She won’t tell me, but she’s not. She’s sad a lot and Miss Tessa gives her funny looks when she thinks I can’t see.” He looked up at Sawyer with desperate eyes. “Is she really sick again? Is she gonna die?”

  What was he supposed to say to that? It seemed beyond cruel not to deny it, but Sawyer had no idea. In fact, he’d gotten the same sense that Molly was hiding something. Something big enough to put a major dent in that nonstop optimism of hers.

  He decided to take it apart, piece by piece. “Let’s slow down here a minute. No sense getting all worked up just yet. Deep breaths, just like I taught you before you hit the ball.” Sawyer modeled the steadying breath and watched Zack follow suit.

  “Better?”

  Zack sniffled and gave a damp nod.

  “For starters, I gave your mom cake because it’s her favorite—you told me that. And I just wanted to do something nice for her, that’s all.”

  “’Cuz you like her.” Zack said it as if it were that simple.

  Sawyer debated denying it, but instead said, “I think your mom’s a pretty special person.”

  “She likes you.”

  Sawyer pulled back. “How do you figure that?”

  “I heard her talking to Miss Tessa. She’s scared to like you, but she does. You sorta seem scared, too. I don’t get how that works.”

  Me neither, kid. “Grown-up stuff can be scary sometimes. But let’s talk about your mom. Does she look sick to you? Act sick? Because she seems pretty fine to me.”

  “Well, no.”

  Sawyer searched for other evidence a seven-year-old would understand. “Is she in the hospital? Going to lots of doctors?”

  “No. But she could be going while I’m at camp.” This kid had a real talent for finding the negative in things.

  “Maybe, maybe not.” He tried to keep his tone of voice respectful and patient, the way he’d seen Molly talk Zack through one of his episodes. “Have you asked her if she’s sick?”

  “She won’t tell me.”

  “Your mom doesn’t seem like the kind of person to lie to you. It’s better than making scary stuff up that may not be true at all.” A solution came to him. “Do you want me to ask her? I mean, since you seem to think we like each other and all, I’d be okay with that.” He’d just admitted his complex feelings to a second grader. This, from the guy who never admitted any feelings to anyone.

  “Can you do that?” Zack was probably right to be skeptical. He was a bit skeptical himself.

  “I’ll try.” And then, it was as if some other, much nobler man added, “Friends do stuff like that for each other.”

  The change in Zack’s face just about broke Sawyer’s heart open. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

  Sawyer fought off the giant lump in his throat. “Yep.”

  “Can we play some music before we go home?”

  Sawyer eased himself up off the ground. For the second time in three days he felt as if he’d backed away from a steep cliff. “Sure thing. Any song you want.”

  Zack’s smile was worth a million dollars. “‘Frog Legs.’”

  Picking up Zack’s golf bag, Sawyer kept his arm around the boy’s shoulders. “‘Frog Legs’ it is.”

  * * *

  Molly stared out her front window, looking for the lights of Sawyer’s truck coming down the street. She couldn’t imagine what had happened when Sawyer said he was bringing Zack back later after stopping for hot dogs. Maybe he was being kind to her, giving her extra time to wrestle her composure back from the stress of the day. The tests from Dr. Swanson’s office were delayed. That wasn’t a good thing. She was sure that negative results came back quickly and positives took longer.

  I’m so scared, Lord. For me and for Zack. I haven’t got it in me to go through this again.

  Just when she was starting to call Sawyer’s cell phone, she saw lights come up the street and turn into her drive. It took a heap of self-control not to bolt out the front door in maternal panic.

  Instead, she opened the door and attempted a cheery wave—until Sawyer reached into the back seat and hoisted a sleeping Zack onto his broad shoulders.

  The image cut her to the core. Sawyer held Zack with such care. His face held such a “Did I do this right?” expression that she nearly laughed. She held the door open so he could angle himself through—a maneuver that brought him unsettlingly close to her—and she pointed up the stairs toward Zack’s room.

  “How’d you tire him out like that?” she asked when Sawyer came back down the stairs. “He can never sleep when he gets all worked up like he was.” She felt she had to add, “Sorry to dump him on you in one of his moods, but we were on our last nerves with each other today.”

  “So I noticed,” he replied.

  Molly motioned toward the kitchen. “The least I could do is offer you a coffee. But there’s no carrot cake left. I gobbled up both slices on the way home from the golf c
ourse.”

  Sawyer seemed amused, rather than judgmental. She liked that. “Did it help?”

  “Carrot cake always helps. I’ve found cake in general to be a pretty handy coping strategy.” She felt a small glow start up in her stomach as she added, “Thank you.”

  Sawyer stood across from her in the small kitchen. He seemed to fill the room, making her extra aware of his presence even though he’d been in the house several times before.

  He leaned against the counter as she put the hot water on and got out a bag of Colombian decaf grounds. “I made a promise to a friend,” he said, “so I have to ask you something.”

  That was a weird way to put it. She turned away from him toward her cabinets to fetch the French press coffeepot. “Okay, shoot.”

  He lowered his voice, and she sensed him taking a step closer to her. “Are you sick again, Molly? Is the cancer back?”

  She nearly dropped the glass carafe. A vulnerable panic raced down her spine and squeezed her breath tight. She couldn’t pull in enough air to answer.

  “Zack thinks you are, and he’s scared out of his wits. He poured it all out to me today, poor guy.”

  Molly was already crying by the time she turned to look at him.

  His eyes were full of pain and alarm. “You are, aren’t you?”

  “I don’t know.” It came out in a whispered wail. “Maybe. I found...something. They’re running tests. They should be back by now and they’re not and I’m sure that means it’s bad news and...”

  His arms were around her in an instant. She found herself melting against him as Zack had done in his sleep. Sawyer was silent and solid and steady against her, a fortress against the tears she could no longer hold at bay. Every mother knows how to cry without anyone hearing, but it suddenly became okay, maybe even good, that Sawyer was there to hear. The tears erupted out of her with a surprising force, and she let them come.

  “Shhh,” he said, keeping a tight grip even when she tried to pull back. “Shhh.” His voice held a tenderness she’d never heard from him.