Love and War: Part Two (Shadows in the Dark Book 2)

The brutal memories come at me as I drive down the main street of my hometown. I almost pass by Ella’s place, before deciding to stop, turning into The Watering Hole and parking my Infinity in the front row.

Ella knows everything that goes on in this ‘too small’ small town. Unlike Lux, who was babysitting her mom on the regular for years, I haven’t been back once since I left, and that is going to warrant some information that I can’t get on my own, because God knows she’s not likely home.

I grab my purse from the passenger seat, staring at the dated building that’s cherished by so many people in this town. Responsible for the only live music for miles around and the weekend entertainment for many, it’s impacted a lot of lives over the years. Compared to the bars and clubs in Atlanta, it’s just some redneck honky-tonk, but to the people that can’t get away, it beats sitting at home on a Friday night watching reruns and eating one of the few fast food places in town. I’m not sure what’s going to happen when Ella can no longer run it, since she cared about it too much to actually build a life of her own; no kids to leave it to.

I glance around, taking in my surroundings for the first time in years. I haven’t driven these streets in so long, but like lyrics of an old song, you pick it back up as if you visited them recently.

Ella’s place marks the fork for what side of town you want to be on. I place my hand over the small bump covered easily by my clothing. “This is the place I grew up, Peanut. I know it’s not much. When we’re gone, you won’t even miss it. I haven’t. On the way, just over the county line, we covered a majority of what’s here from the three-generation family-owned hardware store to a pharmacy and small medical clinic sitting opposite sides of the road from each other, and then there were the gas stations on every corner and the two dollar stores you can find in almost every tiny town, all located on the same main drag.”

I let the photographic memory of the town map out in my mind. “The only thing we didn’t see in the matter of a five-minute drive was the post office and school down that stretch of roadway over there. I’m not sure I’m ready to venture down there yet. My mother works there. She’s the postmaster. It totally makes sense for her to have such a title. Damn workaholic. Oh, I forgot about the little burger joint right off the highway. It has the best chili around. It’s a wonder I was able to hold any kind of figure growing up with all of that sloppy goodness. There are a few more dine-in and drive-thru restaurants and small businesses speckled throughout, but you get the picture. Nothing fancy in these parts.”

I take a deep breath, preparing myself to go in when Kross’s ringtone starts sounding on my phone, making me jump. “Shit.”

I dig through my purse, looking for it. It’s been three damn days since he left, and all I’ve gotten is a text here and there. If it wouldn’t absolutely kill me, I’d ignore his call to give him back a little of what I’ve gone through.

I finally pull it out, the photo I took of him sleeping in his boxer briefs with his tattoo-covered forearm draped across his eyes on the front. The sight makes me miss him even more. “Peanut, don’t tell your daddy I’m taking you in a bar. He’s the judgmental type. We both know I don’t need that kind of anger in my life.” I slide the green button, pulling the phone to my ear. “Hello.”

“Where the fuck are you?”

Fuck! I mouth, trying to decide if I should lie or tell the truth. This is Kross we’re talking about. Tell the truth, because chances are he already knows. But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to make him wait before I freely give him the info. “So, it’s been THREE damn days since you left, with no call to say, ‘hey baby, how is your day’ or ‘I miss you and I’m fine’, yet you can randomly pull up your little tracking app to see that I’m not in Atlanta and just call me up to make demands? It ain’t happening, sexy; not in this lifetime.”

“It’s for your own good. Where are you, Delta?”

“I think we both know that’s a rhetorical question, because your little GPS friend has already pinpointed exactly where I am.”

“Delta . . .”

“Kross.”

“I know what fucking town you’re in. Even got the name of the street perfectly spelled out for me. My question is why the hell are you there and why did you choose to wait ‘til I’m gone to go there?”

My head falls against the steering wheel, before softly hammering against it in frustration. “Okay, fine, I’ll tell you, but promise not to judge me, k?”

“I can’t make that kind of promise without knowing all the facts.”

He’s going to kill me . . .

“I came to see my mom.” Silence comes through the phone. It’s so quiet you could hear a pin drop. As a matter of fact, a sound begins coming across the line. It sounds like a . . . “What is that noise?”

The blade stops slinging open from its housing. I listen carefully. A scraping noise occurs, but it’s distinct, as if he’s rubbing the blade of his knife against the stubble on his cheek. “Kross . . .”

“Why are you going to see that bitch? And without me there at that?”

“I started thinking while you were gone. We’re going to be parents soon. Well, sooner than we planned. With every passing day that I remember our baby is growing inside of me and how that makes me feel, the more confused I become that she wouldn’t want me. Do you know that she hasn’t tried to contact me once since I moved away? What kind of mother forgets about the child she lived with for eighteen years? I need closure, Kross, like you.”

“And what if she tries to hurt you?”

“She won’t hurt me physically; at least not more than I can take. A slap to the face was as bad as it got. She was a shitty mom, but she wasn’t like that. She’s only ever had the power to hurt me emotionally and mentally, and now, so much time has passed she really doesn’t even have that. I want some answers so that I can move on and we can live our life with no questions.”

I hear him growl into the phone. “Look in the glove compartment.”

I lean over the console and flip open the compartment. There is a stack of various items related to the sale of my car, including my insurance, but what wasn’t previously there is a silver and Tiffany Blue pistol lying on top. “What is it?”

“I hope that’s a fucking joke.”

I roll my eyes. “I meant what kind? Why the hell is it in here? Those type questions.”

“Because I don’t trust other people, that’s why it’s in there. It’s a Ruger LC9s.”

“So, you put an illegal gun in my car?”

“No, that one’s registered. Not all of my guns are illegal, Delta, just the ones I sell . . . or use for illegal activity.”

“Well, okay then. You could have just said it was there. I didn’t have to look at it. The likelihood of me using it is slim.”

“No. If you’re going to be there without someone then put it in your purse.”

“Kross, I grew up here. I don’t need a gun.”

“Put the fucking gun in your purse or I’m sending Kaston to pick you up.”

I move it from the glove compartment to my purse, verbally voicing my frustration the entire way. “It’s in there. Happy now?”

“Somewhere between happy and rage.”

“What are you doing?”

“Stakeout.”

“I’m not going to ask many questions, because I don’t want to know, but when are you coming home?”

“When his soul is on fire.”

“Why is it taking so long?”

“Crime takes time.”

“I miss you.”

“I’ll be home soon.”

I glance up to Ella standing in the doorway of the bar, staring at me. “Kross, I gotta go. I’ll let you know when I’m headed back home. Love you. Be safe.”

I disconnect the call and toss my phone in my purse, before quickly getting out of my car and locking it up. Her face is void, staring between the car and me. Hell, maybe she doesn’t recognize me. Sure, it has been a while and I have a lot more tattoos now, but I pretty much look the same.

I take two steps forward and then her hard demeanor cracks, a smile breaking out. “Well I’ll be damned. I thought you had forgotten us around these parts.”

“Not the ones worth remembering.”

She glances at my car again. “I almost got my shotgun out. Thought you were some of those rich city folk trying to persuade me to sell my bar. They’ve been at it for about a month now. Investors wanting to tear down this place and build a strip of office buildings to lease out. They’ll have to wait ‘til I’m dead and gone. Some things are worth more than money.”

I smile at her, remembering all the times she took Lux and I into her arms and treated us like a real mother would, because the ones we shared DNA with were out partying, a lot of times in this very bar, acting like a couple of teenagers with no offspring. “It’s good to know some things haven’t changed. How have you been, Ella?”

“Not as good as you apparently. What happened to the old Volkswagen?”

“Boyfriend scrapped it.”

“That’s a sin. It was an antique.”

She holds open her arms, waiting for me to fall in. I do, and with one breath I’m taken back. Familiarity swarms around us—her mint shampoo, the light smell of Marlboro on her skin, only noticeable in close proximity, and the fresh clean smell of fabric softener from her clothes. I squeeze her tight. “Even the best things must come to an end.”

She pulls away, her playful expression back. “Why do I have a feeling we’re no longer talking about the car?”

“You always had a knack for reading between the lines.”

“And I’m guessing you didn’t stop by to see your mother before coming by?”

“Your guess would be a good one.”

She takes a deep breath and then wraps her arm around my shoulders. “Come inside and have a seat. I’ll have the boys in the kitchen make you a burger and fries on me. I’ll even throw in an order of fried pickles with ranch. It always was your favorite.

My mouth starts watering at the mention of pickles. “I should have come back a long time ago.”

“You’re going to need something to keep your mouth busy for a while. There are things to say. I’ve kept my mouth shut long enough, but a lot of things have changed since you left, and I think it’s time that you know.”

She pulls me inside. As I cross over the threshold, something in the air changes, and that something fills me with dread.

I stand on the walkway, staring at the wooden front door of the house in my old neighborhood. It’s hard to believe I’m back at the place I grew up in. I said I’d never come back the day I loaded up all of my stuff, yet here I am.

I’d like to say it was me, but I know it was our baby. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the hat of motherhood that I’ll put on sooner than later.

It’s a small brick house, about thirteen hundred square feet of heated and cooled living space. It’s a little bare since she never got into the whole ‘making it a home’ thing, like flower beds, porch furniture and door hangers, but for a single mother with no help I’ve always thought it was pretty nice.

I walk toward the steps, taking them one at a time. The front is elevated, as the house is sitting on somewhat of a slope. This wasn’t exactly how I planned this, but after the conversation with Ella, it needs to be done. A wave of nausea hits, but I breathe through it. My nerves are unsettled.

I ball up my fist and bring it toward the wood, beside the oval pane of glass in the center, preparing to knock, when the door opens. My mouth falls a little, and suddenly an empty feeling hits in the pit of my stomach. “Mom?”

The woman standing on the other side is someone I’ve never seen before. The woman I knew was strong-willed, hard, and well, a bitch. But she was also beautiful. The woman staring back at me is pale, frail, and her head is covered in a scarf. She looks tired, dark circles set deep beneath her eyes. She glances at my car in the driveway and then at me, before moving aside and waving me in.

I walk past her, glancing at her once more as I walk in, trying to confirm to myself that it’s really her. Neither of us makes an attempt to speak. Despite the talk at Ella’s and seeing her now, it’s still hard to believe.

I stop in the center of the living room, looking around. It still looks the same as when I left it, only cleaner. A hint of lemon exists in the air. It smells of cleaning supplies, and I swear I don’t see one particle of dust. Other than that, there is only one noticeable difference, and that’s photos of me along the timeline of my childhood sprinkled throughout the room; some in frames sitting on top of furniture, and others hung on the wall. I wasn’t even aware she had this many pictures of me.

I spot a few with a man I don’t recognize flanking her side with his arm around her in each one. He looks a little older than her, which confuses me even more. Every man I’ve ever known her to date got younger with each one instead of older.

The door shuts, preceding the several moments of silence. “You have the pregnancy glow.”

Following her familiar voice, my eyes close, and my hand touches my stomach, before falling. I turn and look at her, trying to keep calm even though my nerves have a different idea, but my eyes settle on her worn-down expression and I stare. Who is this person? Her voice doesn’t even match what I remember of her. She was always angry or annoyed, her voice hard. This version is peaceful, soft. “Is that why you’re here?”

“I’m here for closure. It was just the push I needed to come.”

The back door closing grabs my attention. “Leigh Anne . . . Cale will be here by six.” Footsteps sound until the man from the photos appears in the doorway, speaking until he notices me.

His eyes lock with mine, before he looks me over. He’s clean-cut, his dark hair peppered with gray, eyes brown. He has kind eyes, a face lined with wisdom, and of an age that holds a lot of knowledge. He’s handsome, in that older Gerard Butler kind of way.

He smiles at me, never missing a beat. “You must be Delta,” he says, catching me off guard.

“Yes. I wish I could return the recognition. Who are you?”

He walks toward me and pulls me into an embrace; the kind I would think a father does with his daughter. It’s awkward, seemingly more for me. “My name is Jim. I’m your stepdad. It’s great to finally meet you. Will you be staying for dinner? My son is coming home from medical school for the weekend.” He nods toward one of the walls. “He’d love to meet the girl in the photos. I know I have been.”

Everything in my head starts swarming. I step back, unable to process anything with the anger and confusion mixing inside of me. Everything feels normal, a decade or so too late. “I’m sorry, what?”

I look at her. Is that guilt on her face? Sadness? I’m not familiar with these expressions she’s wearing; at least not coming from her. She takes a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing from the tensed position they were in, before coming over and giving him a hug. “Jim, darling, why don’t you let Delta and I talk out back. We knew if this ever happened it was going to be complicated, and I’m tired. I need to sit.”

He kisses her forehead. “Of course. I’ll make two glasses of sweet tea and then head to the store for steaks.” He glances back over at me. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like, Delta. We’ve been hoping for this day for quite a while. I’ll pick up an extra ribeye, just in case, but there is no pressure to stay longer than you’re comfortable.”

And with that, he walks into the kitchen. I’m in a state of shock. She doesn’t make any effort to move closer to me, and for that I’m thankful.

I walk toward the wall he was pointing at. It’s a section holding my senior portrait, dressed out in my cap and gown. Beside me is a male in the same attire, only a different color. He’s cute—slender but not skinny, dirty-blond hair only a shade lighter than brown, and the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re almost clear they’re so light. I’m guessing that comes from his mother. To a stranger, it’d look like a normal family, and that thought has me laughing inside.

I continue staring at my photo, remembering all too well the last time I wore that. I can almost feel the sting on my cheek where she slapped me and told me to get out of her house, and for me to never show my face around her again, because she no longer had a daughter.

The memories rush back as if years don’t separate us. Maybe I should have waited on Kross for this. The emotions are quickly becoming too much to sort through. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come. You have a new family now.”

She takes a step forward but stops when I step back. “Delta, it’s not like that. I know you’re confused by everything you see, but there is a lot to say. I had hopes that you would show back up here one day, even though I was prepared for the opposite after the way we left things. You’re already here. Let me explain over a glass of tea before I’m out of chances. Then, if you want to, you’re free to leave.”

“Tea? The mother I remember had more of a wine preference.”

“I stopped drinking shortly after you left.”

I can feel the slap all over again, even though a hand doesn’t come flying. “You had a change of heart after that many years? But you never tried to contact me? You disowned me.”

The tears fall before I can dismiss them. Hers gloss over shortly after. “I needed to fix myself first. Then, so much time went by. Jim happened and things recently changed with my health. I wasn’t sure you wanted to see me. You didn’t need the burden of my current state after everything. It would have been selfish.”

“How did you even know I was okay, or alive for that matter?”

“When Katherine—God rest her soul—wasn’t a walking liquor bottle or strung out on drugs, I managed to get information out of her. I knew you were doing well in Atlanta. You girls really did okay for yourselves, despite everything. Please, let’s go outside.” I glance at the front door, deciding if I want to leave. “Delta, I may not live long enough to know I have a grandchild, please, just give me an hour.”

More tears fall, remembering I’m no longer a child but soon to be a mother, and Ella’s conversation comes back to me. Her opinion is one of the few that matters, and she asked me to give her a shot. “Okay.”

She leads me through the same but slightly different kitchen, grabbing both glasses of tea off the island, handing me a Mason jar with a lemon slice wedged on the rim. I take it and follow her out the back door.

The patio has been turned into an enclosed sunroom overlooking the backyard, but the electric fireplace freestanding in the corner is keeping it warm.

She sits in one of two wicker chairs, setting her glass of tea on the small table that separates us. She makes use of the matching ottoman by propping her feet up as I take the other. Surprisingly, it’s more comfortable than it looks.

I take a sip of the tea as she settles, pulling a blanket off the back of her chair and draping it over her lap. I’ve forgotten how good home brewed tea is versus restaurant quality. “Do you need a blanket?”

“No. It’s warm in here.”

“When are you due?”

“The end of July.”

“I don’t see a ring. Is there a special someone?”

“Yes.”

“Will there be a wedding?”

“He’s not the marrying kind. It’s fine. I don’t need a piece of paper to prove that he loves me.”

“I see.”

“Is this what this is going to be? Small talk. It’s weird. We’ve never sat around and had mother-daughter bonding time.”

“I suppose I deserve that.”

The air becomes thick from the awkward silence. I take another sip, trying to busy myself. “Just so we’re clear, Chuck wasn’t your fault. It was mine.”

And there it is. The icebreaker. I turn toward her, eyes downcast on my hands from the shame, pulling one leg into the seat. More tears fall. “I could have said no,” I whisper, finally admitting my own mistakes. “I was lonely and selfishly seeking attention. I was angry with you.”

“I know.” I look at her, eying the tear trails down her cheeks. “We’re never going to move forward if we don’t clear the air. If you’re anything like me, you’re tired of the bitterness, of the anger, of the resentment. I’ve been praying for this opportunity for a long time, and here you are. The final step of my recovery is mending broken bridges; seeking forgiveness from those I’ve wronged.”

“Recovery?”

“Yes, recovery. The day of your graduation, when Chuck pledged his love for you and said he was leaving me, I got angry. By the time you found me after the ceremony, I was in the spiral downward. I was so angry all I could do was react. I’m sorry that you saw me at my worst. I wasn’t even really angry with you, Delta. I was angry with myself. You were a child. I was suddenly living in every single mother’s worst nightmare. I’m not saying you didn’t make bad decisions, but it’s not like I was that great of a role model for you either. When I was finally alone and honest with myself, it was no shock. I saw the way he looked at you on more than one occasion. There were times when I woke up to him getting back in bed with a certain smell that I knew didn’t come from watching television. Deep down, I think I knew something was going on between you two. Instead of being the parent, I drowned myself in my wine, in nightlife, and in work. What happened was my fault, because I left you at home with my boyfriends over the years. I trusted too freely. The two of you spent a lot of time here together. I overlooked things that should have never been overlooked. A lot of things now make sense, looking back. It’s all on me. I was supposed to be your mother, not your roommate or your friend. I should have never said those things to you. And I most certainly should have never laid my hand on you that way.”

“It wasn’t really anything different than what you’ve said or done over the years.”

She wipes her face as a new set of tears fall. “You’re right. I was a horrible mother. There is no excuse that could make how I treated you okay, but I do owe you an explanation; especially now that you’re an adult. I was recently diagnosed with stage four cervical cancer. It’s also in my ovaries and uterus. I’m prepared to fight. I’m undergoing necessary care and treatment, but with cancer there is a very real possibility that I could die. I’ve made peace with most things, but I can’t fathom the thought of leaving this world without at least trying to make amends with you. You’re my only child. Regardless of anything I’ve ever made you think, I love you. I was young when I got pregnant with you; much younger than you are. What I thought was a fun, spontaneous weekend ended up having permanent consequences. I have no idea what your father’s name is or where he lives; nothing more than an old image in my head of him that fades a little more with every year that passes. I snuck out that morning thinking I was taking away a memory with a soldier. Six weeks later I got two pink lines and a write-off from my parents that I’ve tried to fix many times. They want nothing to do with me. I ended up alone and bitter, broke, with a baby thrown in the mix that depended on me. I worked my way up from the first job I could get that paid a salary that was worth a damn without a college degree. My friends left me. I missed out on college. Dating became a game to hold onto my youth. With every hurdle I jumped, the depression got worse. I turned to alcohol and took any overtime offered. I was a functioning addict between wine and men. I became emotionally distant. Then, you got older and started adopting this darker style I didn’t understand—the tattoos, the revealing clothing, the black. I didn’t know how to connect with you. You’re beautiful, Delta. God, if you could only see it. You took everything I said to heart, but I was too far gone to care. So many times, I’ve sat and wondered how the hell I created such a beautiful child. The older you got and the more your body matured, the more you reminded me of myself all those years ago and what I missed out on because I was saddled with a child. I lashed out at you. What I needed was a therapist to deal with things I’d let build for years.”

Her face is soaked. I’m dying inside. My heart is pounding so hard it’s taking more effort to breathe. I’ve never once in my entire life seen her this emotional. Her voice cracks every few sentences. “It wasn’t until you packed your things and left that I realized how wrong I was. Even though I threatened it, I didn’t expect you to leave. But you did. And everything became obvious—I had a problem. For years I thought of how much easier it would be without someone depending on me, then you left, and the house was deafening. It was maddening. My drinking got worse. There was a stretch where I had a new man in my bed nightly, most of which I brought home from Ella’s. I called in to work instead of getting out of bed. I almost lost my job. When I found out that you were taking bartending classes something snapped. I realized I had done exactly what I thought I wanted. I taught you to be strong, to not need anyone; especially a man or me. I was finally free, but with that freedom came a gaping hole in my chest. I took a leave of absence and checked myself into rehab. I found healing, spirituality, meditation. I even learned to forgive myself, but the one thing that was still missing was you.”

“Then why didn’t you come find me? I’m supposed to just believe you turned over a new leaf, yet you didn’t have the decency to try and fix it? Not even in the midst of you getting married! It doesn’t seem like you’ve missed me at all. In the end, I’m still the one that came here! I spent years chasing your love, but for once you couldn’t chase mine? I missed out on my own childhood, Mom. Did you know Chuck fucked me seven ways to Sunday while you were in the next room, awake a lot of those times? He got off on knowing you could catch us, and because I was so starved for attention, I let him. I even let him knowing he was still fucking you. How fucked up must I be to have been screwing the same man as my mother? And that’s not even the best part. He recruited me as a minor to strip in his club, promised me things, like I would have money for myself; money that you weren’t giving me because you were selfish. I was bound by secrets. Prepped to act older than I was. I was lying to you so that we could be together for weekends at a time in the house he would never take you to. In your own warped little world, you either didn’t care or didn’t notice. That day I walked away from you both, but if you had given a damn to come see for yourself, you’d know that I wasn’t doing well. I was living paycheck to paycheck, even when things were great. In the end, it wasn’t as easy as in the beginning. Because I prioritized a dream that I had for myself, I was well on my way to being homeless. Instead of drowning in pity at how broke I had become, or going to my mom for help like most girls would have done, I went back to Chuck and asked him for my job back.”

Tears I didn’t know I was holding back spill with no shame. “He gave it back to me, but it wasn’t without a cost. All the filth I felt when I was in high school came back full force and then some, but this time it didn’t just last for the fifteen minutes it took him to get off. No, I felt like a whore for a long time after. Honestly, I think it was worse, because I had bettered myself. I had more choices than before, and I had proven that I was capable of doing it on my own. Even still, it wasn’t bad enough for me to treat the ones around me like shit. I never forced the people I care about to carry my cross. So forgive me if it’s a little difficult for me to believe you. It’s going to take a lot more than a few tears and cancer for me to just forget everything that easily.”

She buries her face in her hands, her cries louder than before. I stand and walk to one of the windows, staring outside at a view I’m all too familiar with, contemplating leaving. “Please tell me he’s not the father,” she whispers. “I’m not sure if I’d be able to forgive myself for that.”

The desperation in her voice sends a crack traveling down my heart like a rock hitting a windshield with a lot of force. “No. I was at least smart enough not to let that bastard knock me up. The man that did is an all-consuming asshole that demands his own way, has no filter of appropriate things to say, and evokes every emotion in a matter of minutes. He steals everyone’s focus by merely walking in a room. He’s talented. He’s a man of few words. He’s an alpha to the core. But he’s also been through far worse things than either you or I. His name is Kross. I’m completely and inevitably in love with him.”

“He sounds like a lucky man.”

“No, I’m the lucky one.”

“I’m so sorry, Delta. You’re right. I should have come, but I wanted to be a better person for you. I wanted to love myself first or I knew I wouldn’t be able to love you like you deserve. When I was finally becoming a better person—reasonably happy with myself—I met Jim in a small group at the church I started visiting. We hit it off. He’s taught me so much about life, love, and laughter . . . Then I was diagnosed with cancer and everything has been a whirlwind since. I didn’t think you’d want to see me, so I waited, because I knew if you showed back up here then your heart was far bigger than mine and there was hope that I could earn your forgiveness after all.”

A small bird perches on the branch of the oak in the backyard—the one that she carved our names in when I was five. I remember that day so clearly, as if it was yesterday. It was the middle of spring, the perfect temperature, and the wildflowers were in bloom. I wanted to play outside in the sunshine. I begged her all morning. She had been cleaning the majority of it. Had my room spic and span before I asked for the final time so that she wouldn’t say no. She was sitting at the kitchen table, sorting out and paying bills like she did once a month; at least that’s what she always said she was doing. I was five. I didn’t understand more than the words coming out of her mouth.

When she looked up at me holding the Dust Buster—because let’s face it, I was much too little to operate a full-sized vacuum—she took off her glasses with a smile on her face and stood up. I think her exact words were, “Any girl that can help her mommy by cleaning her own room deserves a little fun.” And then she picked me up and off we went. Days like that was the reason I tried so hard.

I can hear the screams of joy in my head from her pushing me on the tire swing she still has hanging from the branch that she put up when she had her tires changed on her car that year. It should have been an old truck tire, but when it’s just two girls you make do with what you’ve got. It fit me perfectly back then.

I wipe my eyes to clear my vision. “Why didn’t you take it down?”

I tense when she puts her arm around me, not even realizing she had gotten up. She’s so scrawny now. “We had a lot of good times on that old thing. I think it has a lot left in it yet. I’d like to be able to push my grandchild on it too.”

“Mom, don’t—”

“Delta, I’m not asking you to trust me. Once destroyed, I know that’s not something that can easily be fixed. I’m not even asking you to decide right now. All I’m asking you is to give me a chance to show you I’m serious, to show you I’m sorry and want us to build a relationship. If I’m successful, then maybe you will consider letting me be a part of your child’s life, and your special someone. Kross, is it?”

Again, Ella’s conversation is hitting me hard. She kept saying she’s changed. To listen to her. To lay down my anger and open my heart. Then I remember how Lux looked when her mother died. It didn’t matter how shitty the woman was, she still lost it. She still grieved the loss. The good times triumphed over the bad. And now she’s out of chances. Maybe I’m too forgiving, or maybe I’m too easy to crack, but either way, I don’t think those are qualities that I’d be disappointed to pass down to my child.

I can’t help but wonder—if Lux had the chance to change things with her mother before she died, would she forgive everything in the past to try for a different future? It’s already been answered. Of course, she would. She moved the woman into her apartment with her, despite everything that she knew she was; even with the possibility that she would never change.

I turn toward her, leaning my shoulder against the glass, and then the dam breaks as the words expel from my mouth. “And if you make me love you again and you die, then what?”

She cups my face with her frail hands, wiping the tears away as she lets hers run down her face. “Then you finish out your life with better memories of me and I die in peace. That’s the best thing I could hope for.”

With the sincerity in her voice, I know I’m going to cave. I’m tired of coping with the loss of her. And I’m just tired. I’ve been angry for a long time. It’s exhausting. It’s time for me to grow up, to practice being the mother I want to be. “Fine, but if you let me down, I swear to God I’m done.”

She pulls my head against her chest, and for a moment, we cry together, before I finally gather my wits and pull away, wiping at my face and clearing my throat. “So, tell me about Jim.”

She lights up in a way I’ve never seen in regard to a man and leads me back to the chairs we were previously sitting in. “Tea, we’re going to need a lot more tea . . .”

For once, tea sounds a hell of a lot better than wine.