by Dori Lavelle
“You did? You’re such a sweetheart. Thank you so much.” I had been so preoccupied that I had not even thought about a bachelorette party.
“What else are maids of honor for?”
“In that case, I'll try to make it home by then.” Today was only Sunday. I’d have enough time to find the answers I needed. After that, I saw no point in staying in a town that was no longer home to me.
“Is everything ready for the wedding?” Kirsten asked. “Not much time left.”
“Pretty much. Tina called yesterday. She's finalizing the seating charts. She seems to have everything under control.” After Miles proposed, I had considered planning the wedding myself, being involved in every moment leading up to my special day. But I soon realized that wedding planning was lots of work that I didn’t want to do. It was Kirsten who had convinced me that delegating the planning to someone else wouldn't make the day any less special. And besides, there was one thing I would not be able to delegate: the moment at the altar with Miles when we exchanged our vows.
Kirsten had even been the one who suggested Silk & Petals. A client of hers had apparently used them before.
“That's great. If there's anything you'd like me to take care of while you're out of town, let me know.”
“Thanks, Kirsten. I'll do that. Talk to you soon.”
I ended the call and spent a long time getting dressed, worrying about seeing my mom again. It would be best to visit her first, to get it out of the way before getting to what I came to Misty Cove for. I'd keep it short. I had no interest in rehashing the past, talking about what had driven us apart.
Before I left the room, I gave Miles a call, hoping he would help calm my nerves. He was in church, but he stepped out to talk to me. Although he was surprised that I’d be seeing my Mom, he didn’t try to talk me out of it.
Miles was Catholic, so as long as he wasn’t traveling, he never missed Sunday mass. It was something he carried with him from childhood. His late mom always took him with her. I did find it a bit painful that it was a part of his life he didn't seem to want to share with me. I wasn’t Catholic, but I believed there was only one God, served in various ways.
At the start of our relationship, I did accompany him once or twice, and while he had not objected, he did give off the vibe that he wasn’t so comfortable with me around. It hurt a bit, but I took a step back. He had the right to spend some time alone, to recharge. At the end of the day, he came home to me. Nothing else mattered.
I walked out the door of the hotel feeling confident, telling myself I would be able to handle whatever came my way. My future with Miles was secure. All I had to do was iron out the kinks that had recently shown up, and then I'd be able to start a new life with the man I loved.
Chapter Twelve
Misty Cove had barely changed. Before going to my childhood home, I drove through the streets for a few minutes, taking a look around, curious to see what had stayed frozen in time.
Turns out, almost everything. The Sunset Cinema I had gone to as a child had been replaced by a bed-and-breakfast, the Candy Cane sweet shop was now an ice parlor, and the Sneak and Peek video store had a “for sale” sign across its front door. Everything else was unchanged. It was almost like I’d gone back in time. Even the sounds and smells were the same.
The ocean sounded different here. It was the one thing I missed; it had soothed me so much during hard times. I had spent endless hours on the beach, collecting shells or gazing out at the ocean, wishing the waves could wash me away from my life. In Boca Raton, my life was so hectic that I often forgot to stop and listen to the ocean, and even when I did, it lacked the soothing effect I had experienced in childhood.
Mixing with the sound and smell of the ocean, the aroma of freshly baked bread and spices snuck through the open window of my car.
It was amazing how some things could change so much, while others stayed the same. Had Misty Cove awaited my return, waited for me to give it a second chance? I heard it calling out to me, trying to lure me out of the car, to walk its streets and gaze through its shop windows like I used to.
It felt like only yesterday when I'd last gazed through the floor-length windows of Mary Jane, a clothing store for teens, visualizing the clothes on my own body, showing them off at school. Sometimes I did gather up the courage to go inside. I tried on the clothes to see how they felt on my skin, dreamt that one day I'd be able to buy all the beautiful things I wanted.
My parents had bought me what I had needed, nothing more. My father was a struggling car salesman for most of his life, and Mom had been a housewife. After my father died, Mom got a job at a local bakery that didn't pay much. After bills were paid and the necessities bought, there’d been hardly enough money left over for extras.
I was still thinking back when I pulled the car onto Clover Avenue. It had remained the same as well. Rows of jacaranda trees still lined the street, and Andy's Grocery was still there, its bright yellow paint peeling. I watched as early grocery shoppers walked in and out, carrying bags, pushing carts, or holding tight to toddlers' hands—carrying out their morning tasks.
The Handy Car Wash was still at the end of the street, and as usual, the place was deserted. Most car owners preferred to wash their cars themselves to save money. I had always wondered how they had managed to stay in business with only a handful of customers. Rumor around town was that Jake Simpson, the owner, was in the business of money laundering, and the car wash business was a cover.
I pulled up in front of my childhood home and parked. I climbed out, of the car and for a second I stood there, the sunlight spilling onto my head and shoulders. Today was such a nice day, so promising after the storm that had raged last night. I wore a baby blue chiffon print dress with an open back and a pair of beaded sandals. The air was clean and fresh, the heat of the sun warm against my back.
I tipped my head back so I was gazing at the upstairs bedrooms, locating the one that had been mine, nestled between my parents’ bedroom and the guest room.
The curtains were different. The purple ones I remembered from my childhood were gone and replaced with boring beige ones. My stomach churned. I had moved on and so much time had passed. What if Mom had moved out? Maybe the house belonged to someone else now, a new family that would be able to fill it with laughter.
The living room curtain fluttered. Someone was peering out, but they didn't want to be seen. I moved forward and opened the metal gate. As I walked down the stone path, I clenched my fists tight, one of my hands holding the car keys and the other my phone. My stomach roiled.
I made it to the front door and took a deep breath.
I pressed a finger on the black doorbell, forcing myself to remain calm.
When the door opened, a stranger stood before me.
Chapter Thirteen
Mom had not moved out, but she was far from the woman I used to know. The sunken eyes, pale skin, and thin hair were nothing like what I remembered of the woman who had given birth to me, the woman I had loved until she stopped loving me back. Her hair had always been so beautiful, lustrous and thick, and I had envied her for it. I had dull hair growing up, but now, with a little help from expensive hair products and frequent visits to my hairdresser, it was as beautiful as Mom's had been at the time, if not more.
We stood there staring at each other—familiar strangers. Neither of us knew what to say or do. My heart shrank as I reached deeper into her eyes. Instinct urged me to turn around and leave. Nothing left for me here. I had done what I'd planned. I'd seen her. Now I could leave, right? There was only one problem: I couldn't move or speak, or even breathe.
“Kelly.” She gripped the doorframe. “You’re home.” Her voice was low, and it seemed the words were hard for her to speak. Before I could respond, she reached out and wrapped her thin arms around my neck, sobbing into my shoulder.
***
Mom didn't speak again for a long time. Neither did I. I was in complete shock over what had just happened.
I had not even planned on entering the house; I’d thought I would say hello to her and be on my way. I had not expected her to invite me in. But here I was, following her inside.
What had happened to her? Why was she suddenly being nice to me? Why did she look so withered?
She waved a hand at the faded, flowery couches I remembered and I took a seat, crossing my legs.
The TV was the same, the one I had been so excited to help my father pick out at the age of eight. I had never imagined it would end up being a major part of my life, the ultimate distraction from my home life. TV and lots of books. I eyed the film of dust covering the screen and looked away. Dust was everywhere else I looked, however; it covered the old radio, coated the dead leaves of the houseplant on the windowsill, and even my Mom's beloved collection of ceramic figurines.
Although I didn't mind a little dirt here and there, Mom always had. She had been obsessed with cleanliness it drove me crazy. She had cleaned house all the time—in the mornings, afternoons, and even after I went to bed. The sound of the vacuum cleaner was unbearable. That was why I bought the quietest vacuum cleaners money could buy.
Mom sat down in the armchair that had belonged to my father. Even in the same room, the distance between us was great. So many hurts, so many unspoken words.
“I'm so glad you're here. I dreamed of you last night. I had no idea it was because you were coming home today.”
I cleared my throat. “I just came to tell you that I'm in town to take care of some things. I thought you might want to know.” I clasped my hands tight so they wouldn't tremble. Why was I even explaining anything to her? What was I doing here in the first place? She hadn't been a mom to me for years.
Mom shrugged. “It's nice of you to stop by.” Her sunken eyes didn't leave my face. Was she afraid I would disappear again? Why did she care? “You look lovely... so different.”
“Thank you.” I swallowed hard. “You look different, too.”
“I know.” Mom tugged at one of her dry strands of hair. “A lot has changed since... Tell me, how have you been?”
“I've been okay...busy.”
“Dan Mullot from the post office mentioned a while ago that he saw you in a magazine. You've changed your name. “
I nodded, feeling guilty. “It was a business decision. He must have seen me in a copy of Sage, my magazine.”
“Kelly wasn't fancy enough for you?” Something flashed across Mom's features—disappointment, pain, regret?
“I like Chloe better.” Was she seriously trying to make me feel guilty for the decisions I had made, the person I had chosen to become? What right did she have? “I'm not here to fight. I just came to tell you I'm in town and that's it.” I attempted to stand up, but Mom raised a hand to stop me.
“Please,” she begged. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel bad. I’ve missed you so much. I prayed every day that you would come back to me.”
A bubble of anger formed inside my throat and burst before I could stop it. “That's strange. I'm surprised you even noticed I was gone. I thought you'd be glad. You never wanted much to do with me when I was here.” I sucked in a breath. “In fact, as I recall, you chose your boyfriend over me. Even after what he tried to do to me. You didn't believe me. You took his side. Now you want me to believe you've changed?”
Mom stood and came to kneel at my feet. She looked up at me, tears trickling down her cheeks. “I'm sorry for everything, Kelly. I made so many mistakes, and I can't take them back.” She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I know you thought I didn't love you. But I did. I really did love you. I love you… so much. I just didn't know how to show it.”
“How could I have known you loved me?” My own eyes welled up. “I needed you, but you were never there.” I remembered the exact day Mom started pulling away from me. At my birthday party. One moment she was there, singing happy birthday, asking me to blow out the candles and make a wish. And then she went to the bedroom to get the presents she had bought for me. When she returned, she was acting strange, no longer interested in celebrating. During the days that followed, I'd tried to believe it was a phase that would be over soon, and then we could return to our normal lives. The phase never ended. It lasted years, taking me all the way into high school and out of it.
“Kelly—”
“Chloe. That's my name now.”
“Okay.” Mom sniffed. “Chloe, there's so much you don't know.”
“I'm sure there is.” I blinked back tears.
She gripped my knees. “Please let me explain. I want to tell you everything.”
I didn't say anything, just leaned back and folded my arms in front of my chest. My fingers were sore from being clenched so tight earlier.
She buried her head in my lap. ”On your tenth birthday, everything changed for me. One minute I felt like the luckiest woman alive. I had a beautiful daughter and a husband I adored. A husband I thought loved me back. That day when I went up to get your presents, I found a note in your father's suit jacket.” She cried harder. “It was from a woman. It was intimate.”
I clenched up inside, but I refused to move, to think, to breathe. I waited for what I knew was coming: more news to destroy the only happy part of my childhood.
“I was so broken I didn't know how to act. I asked your father about it…later.” She lowered her head. Her gray hair was more concentrated on her crown. “He didn’t deny the affair. He'd been sleeping with one of his customers for over a year. After all the years I had been there for him, he cheated on me. He slept with someone else while I was at home preparing his meals and washing his clothes. He destroyed everything I believed about marriage and family. He destroyed me.”
My chest tightened and guilt burned my insides. How could I not have known? How did I miss her pain?
And how could my father, my hero, do something like that?
I wanted to pretend it wasn't true, but Mom wouldn't accuse my father of something so horrible just to get close to me, would she? Deep down, I knew she was telling the truth. All those fights they’d had in the middle of the night. I'd thought they had been fighting about me. I thought my father was angry with her for pulling away from me. All this time, I believed it was her.
I placed a hand on her head, which grew heavier in my lap.
“We were separated for years. We lived in the same house and shared the same bed. It was all for show. He didn't want you to know the truth. You're the reason he stayed. He continued seeing the woman.”
“Why didn't you leave?” I heard myself ask.
“I didn't want to destroy you... your childhood. But I still pulled back. Every time I saw you with him… I guess I was jealous that he still loved you and no longer loved me.” She looked up, her eyes red and swollen. “I ended up destroying your life anyway. Your father wanted us to wait until you graduated from high school. He wanted a divorce. But he died before that happened.”
I engulfed Mom in a hug, her pain soaking into me. “I'm so sorry. I'm sorry for everything.”
Both of us cried. After a while, the air seemed to clear. It was as though most of the pain had been released, and all we had was a clean slate.
Mom got to her feet, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose. Then she gave me a broken look as she sat back down on the couch next to me. “I'm sorry I didn't believe you about Alex. I don't know what was wrong with me. It’s just… he was the first man to show interest in me in a long time.” She shifted. “But there’s no excuse for what I did. He tried to rape you. I should have protected you.” She took my hands in hers. “After you left, I did confront him.” She gave a half shrug. “He wasn't the man I thought he was.”
“You know what?” I wiped away her tears. “Let's move on. He tried, but he didn't succeed. I fought him off. I'd like to leave that part of the past behind. If that's okay with you.”
“I just feel so bad. I don't think I will ever forgive myself. I wasn't even there for you when that scandal of an article spread like wildf
ire through town... and what happened to Mariela Jones. I was so angry with you for what you said about Alex. I wasn't there for you.” She gripped my hands. “What you did was wrong, but you're my daughter. I should have been on your side no matter what.”
“Mom, really. I forgive you. Don’t worry about it.” I had to tell her more about the article she had just mentioned, but right now she needed to know that our relationship was okay.
She tightened her grip on my hands and I felt the bones in her thin fingers. “Before we start over, there's something else you should know. Two months ago, I was diagnosed with brain cancer. Doctors say I have about six months to live.”
Time stood still. I had just gotten her back, and now she was telling me I was about to lose her again?
For a while I didn't react visibly, didn't know how to. I stared at her like a zombie, my face growing cold as the blood drained from it. “How?” I asked when I rediscovered my power of speech.
“That was my first thought when Dr. Brian gave me the news. I couldn't believe it was happening to me, yet it was. I had to deal with it.”
No wonder she had changed so much, become so thin and frail. Cancer had taken everything away from her. My stomach twisted when I realized I would never have known if I hadn't come to town. She would have died all alone.
“I'm so sorry. I can't believe this is happening. I can arrange for you to come see the best doctors in Boca Raton. Come and live with me...and my fiancé.”
Mom’s face brightened at my words. “You're getting married? I'm so happy for you, honey.” She pulled me into another hug that left me breathless, then pulled back and smiled at me. I detected a flicker of her old self. “I feel much better knowing you have a good life.”
“Thank you. But I want you to share that life. Come live with us in Boca Raton. Let me take care of you.” I shrugged. “Who knows, maybe there's something that can be done.”
She shook her head sadly. “It's incurable. No one can help me. It took me so long to come to terms with what is happening to my body, I just don't feel like I have the energy to start all over again. I don't want to give myself hope and have it taken away.” She touched my cheek. “Honey, thank you for the offer, but I can't come and live with you. I've done enough damage to you. You deserve to live a carefree and happy life, the kind I was never able to give you. Just do one thing for me, if you can. Stay with me for the few days you're in town. Come home.”