by Jamie Beck
Off they went. Seeing her own father strolling down the lawn with her son and his father should’ve made Gentry’s heart go pitter-patter. It didn’t, though. Her heart hadn’t quite returned to normal since Ian had left.
She didn’t want to think about Ian now, although the harder she tried to forget him, the more he invaded her thoughts. Hence her blog post today about letting him go. The public declaration would be an incentive to make it happen.
“Gentry,” her mom called from the door.
Like a prisoner being led to the guillotine, Gentry followed her mother inside.
Her mom rested against an empty workstation. “Well, was Becky right?”
“The numbers aren’t great on the Snapchat campaign.” Gentry sent up a silent prayer that Becky hadn’t heard that admission.
“Why not?”
“Honestly? I don’t know. I thought they’d be better.”
“Based on what?” Her mother crossed her arms and drummed her fingers against her bicep.
“My experience. Things I’ve read.” She shrugged. “A hunch.”
“Gentry, you may have survived twenty-six years living on hunches, but in business, we make decisions based on data.” When Gentry didn’t respond, she added, “When you started last fall, you were focused and determined. What’s happened since then?”
“Seriously?” Gentry laughed, but then realized her mother didn’t know the answer. “I had a baby. I’ve been a little preoccupied—and tired.” Not to mention how she’d been grappling with her priorities ever since Colt’s birth.
“If you’d let me help, I could teach you how to juggle the demands of your job and your child, like I did.”
Juggle? Hardly. Gentry closed her eyes and blew the stray hair away from her eyelashes while counting to three.
“What are you doing?” her mom asked.
“Trying to let go of yet another criticism.”
“Criticism? I’m only trying to understand what’s going on with you.”
“You can’t, Mom. You’ll never understand me because we are very different people with very different needs. I don’t want to argue anymore. I hear what you’re saying, so I’ll pull the Snapchat plan and sink more money into Instagram, Facebook, and YouTube, where we are seeing traction.” Gentry nodded toward the door. “Now can we enjoy the picnic?”
Before her mother could toss out another question, Gentry turned and stalked outside into the sunlight. The heat and brightness made her think of Ian toiling under the tropical sun. Or treating some dehydrated cholera patient. Maybe dodging mosquitoes? Thinking of her? Oops. Let him go.
Across the lawn, Smith sat in a tight circle with her sister, Sara, and her father. Hunter stood twenty yards off to one side with a group of accounting guys who looked more like they were at a meeting than a picnic.
She trotted down the lawn, wishing she could kick off her shoes and feel the blades of grass between her toes. Her mother would probably follow closely behind, so Gentry soaked in her few free moments until she caught up with her family.
“Looks like you finally met my sister.” She smiled at Smith, wishing his handsome face gave her those tingles it had that night long ago.
“Yes. Unfortunately, Alec isn’t here.” Smith tickled Colt’s tummy. At least her son wasn’t crying at the moment. “We’ll have to catch up some other time.”
“Saturdays are tough for us. Alec’s already at the restaurant, prepping. I need to leave soon, too.” Colby lifted Colt off the blanket and snuggled him. “I don’t get to spend near enough time with this little one.”
“Me neither,” sighed Sara.
Gentry noticed Ty sitting peacefully in the circle with a coloring book.
Other kids were running around, getting their faces painted, watching the clown make balloon animals. “Hey, Ty. Want Aunt Gentry to take you to get your face painted?”
He shook his head.
“Come on. I’ll do mine, too.” She crouched to his level and wiggled his shoes. “We can be panda bears or something.”
He shook his head again.
“It’s okay, Ty. You don’t have to.” Sara patted his leg, then smiled at Gentry. “He’s still crowd shy. Besides, I’m not sure he’d love the messy face paint.”
What kid didn’t like face paint? But she wouldn’t push. “Smith, do you think Colt would look cute as a bandit?”
“He won’t tolerate a single swipe of the sponge.” He chuckled. “I guess he’d be a cute smudge, though.”
“Poor restless thing.” Colby kissed Colt’s head. “Smith told us about Miss Linda. What will you do now?”
“What happened with Miss Linda?” Her mother’s voice crawled up Gentry’s spine from behind.
Nothing sucked more than having them all looking at her like they were bracing for her next screwup.
“She can’t handle Colt’s colic, so I need to find an alternative.” Gentry chose to look at her dad, who wrinkled his nose.
“That’s outrageous,” he said, showing surprising solidarity.
“Trust me, I let her have it.” Gentry sat beside Smith.
“Well, great,” her mother sighed. “Now what will you do?”
“I can watch him for a while.” Sara clapped her hands together.
“Perfect solution.” Her mom squeezed Sara’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
“I couldn’t ask that. You’ve got Ty to chase after.” Gentry hoped that hadn’t come out too harsh, but she didn’t want Sara bonding with her son on a daily basis. What if he found out that Sara could’ve been his mother and resented Gentry later? What if Sara handled him better? Although irrational, those thoughts proliferated like the wisteria climbing the patio columns.
“Actually, having Colt around will teach Ty about patience, sharing, and a bunch of other things. Plus, they’d bond as cousins.” Sara reached for Colt, and Colby handed him over. “Oh, please. I love this little dove.”
“Sounds like a pretty good temporary solution.” Smith nodded and laid his hand on Gentry’s knee.
Sara’s plea and Smith’s uninvited familiarity made her uncomfortable. She nudged Smith’s hand off her leg and looked at Sara. “No, thank you.”
Sara stilled, and even Colby held her breath. “Sorry.”
“Gentry, what’s wrong with you?” her mother asked. “Sara’s family. She’s compassionate, smart, and you know she’d never harm Colt. She might even be able to get him on some kind of schedule.”
“Because I’m too much of a screwup to do it. That’s what you think, isn’t it?” She stared at the ground, heat rushing to her face.
“Watch your language.” Her father glanced over his shoulder at the employees while Gentry realized Ty had probably heard her.
Colt started crying. Sara hugged him to her chest, swaying him. “Sh, sh, sh . . . it’s okay.”
Her mother shook her head. “Now look at what you’ve done.”
A bee or wasp tore through their little circle with a loud buzz. All around her, the music and laughter became muffled. Perspiration rolled from her hairline down her neck.
Her body tensed as her thoughts turned to how much she wished she wasn’t being compared with Sara. How she wished she’d never tried to be someone she wasn’t by working at CTC. How she wished she hadn’t wasted so much time on false bravado and insecurity.
Seems she hadn’t changed as much as she’d hoped.
“Stop staring at me!” she snapped, glancing around at her family. “You think I don’t know that you all think I should’ve let Hunter and Sara raise Colt? But he’s my son. I want to raise him my way, and—”
Smith’s hand landed on her shoulder, but before he could say anything, she batted it away. “Stop that.”
She jumped up and reached for Colt. Sara handed him over without a word, and Gentry stalked off. Other employees were watching, whispering. As she left, she noticed her brother striding across the lawn toward the family circle.
Her nose tingled, but she would not cry.
She rounded the side of the building and found an empty bench. Nestling Colt, she rocked him, flashing him her wobbly smile and humming. She’d left his diaper bag with his binky back on the patio, so she rubbed her finger along his gums and let him gnaw on that for a moment.
“I’m sorry, Boo. I swear I’ll do better. I’ll give you everything I have. You’re the only one who matters.” Tears formed but didn’t fall. She conjured Ian up, replaying the way he’d reassured her about her mothering. He’d promised that love was enough. That mistakes didn’t make her a bad mother.
“Gentry?” Sara’s shadow fell across the bench.
Gentry closed her eyes and took a breath. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
Sara sat beside her. At first they didn’t speak. Then Sara said, “I only came to say that you’re wrong—”
“Of course I am. Haven’t you heard?” Gentry faced Sara. “That’s where I excel.”
“Stop.” Sara laid her hand on Gentry’s thigh and squeezed. “Just stop. You’re wrong to think that we question your decision to keep Colt.”
“Come on,” Gentry snorted. “I remember what Hunter said that night in Dad’s family room.”
Those words had haunted her more than once. She’d expected his anger when she decided to keep Colt, but Hunter had hit her with her worst fear. “I’m sorry, too. Sorry for that child you’re carrying who had a chance to have Sara for a mother but now will be stuck with you.”
“He was hurt and angry.” Sara shrugged. “We all say things in the heat of the moment that we regret.”
“You don’t,” Gentry conceded.
“I do. Ask my sisters.” Sara smiled and patted Gentry’s shoulder. “You’re the perfect mother for Colt. He’s part of you, and you’re part of him, and that love is all you need. Stop comparing us, because nobody else is. There’s no one right way. But you’ve got to believe in yourself if you want others to believe in you, too.”
That echoed the advice Gentry dispensed on her blog, yet, like with most advice, it was easier to give than to follow. “It’s not that simple.”
“It actually is, I think.”
“Not when everything I do is picked apart by my mother. When every opinion or choice is judged immature or wasteful.”
“You and your mom have had an unhealthy dynamic forever. I see you trying, though. She should give you credit for the ways you’ve matured. But maybe you need to stop assuming the worst of your family, too. Take Hunter. He has a hard time understanding people who don’t think like him, he’s bossy, and he’s always going to see you as his baby sister. It’s not personal, though. He loves you, and he’d be the first one there if you needed him.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Gentry kissed Colt’s head, grateful she had him to cling to during this sweet but awkward exchange. “I am sorry I lashed out at you. You make me feel insecure because you always have your shit together, and I rarely do.”
“I have help. Hunter takes care of me. He handles a lot of the day-to-day details, so I can focus on Ty. You’re doing it all on your own. Working. Motherhood. Now dealing with Smith. Give yourself a break, Gentry.” Sara inhaled, and her gaze wandered to the trees. “I suspect you still miss Ian, which probably makes everything harder.”
“It does.” Gentry bit her nail. “But that’s not the immediate problem.”
“What is?”
Gentry wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like working at CTC.”
Sara’s brows rose high on her forehead. “Then why’d you strong-arm Hunter into hiring you last year?”
“Because, for the first time, my voice finally mattered. Voting with Hunter was a way of making up for how I hurt you both, and a way into my family. I thought if I worked here, I’d connect with them and their drive.” She grimaced. “I’m not ungrateful for everything it’s given me, but CTC just doesn’t mean to me what it does to them.”
“I’m not surprised,” Sara chuckled. “You’ve never been conventional . . . and that’s not an insult.”
Gentry stared at her son, praying that he’d have more direction than she’d ever found.
Sara gripped the edge of the bench on either side of her legs. “Maybe you should focus on what you love. How about photography? Maybe start with family portraits or architectural shoots or whatever. Or your blog. Where could that lead if you gave it more attention?”
“I don’t know.”
“You should trust yourself much more than you do.”
“I told you, my mother always makes me feel stupid.” Gentry grimaced.
“You’re a little old to blame your parents.” Sara bumped shoulders with Gentry. “Besides, we all make mistakes as mothers, don’t we? Sit down with Jenna and work stuff out. It’d be better for you that way, and that will be better for Colt.”
Gentry let her head fall on Sara’s shoulder. “See, this is why you’re better at life than I am.”
“Hardly. Look at how I almost lost everything last summer. I only see this clearly because we’re not talking about my family.”
Gentry raised her head and sighed. “We should go back.”
“Will you quit?”
Gentry bit her lip. “I’m finally closer to Hunter. If I leave, it’ll go back to how it was before. He won’t respect me.”
“That’s not true.” Sara frowned. “Think of it this way—if your family didn’t love you, then they wouldn’t worry about you. As long as you come up with some plan for your future, they’ll respect that.” Sara stood. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“Wait.” Gentry stood and handed Colt to Sara. “Is your offer to watch Colt for a few weeks still good?”
“So you’re not going to quit?”
“Not until after the launch.” Gentry wouldn’t bail in the eleventh hour. “It’ll give me time to make some new plans for my future.”
“Might that future include Smith?” Sara bit her lip.
“I like him as a friend, and he’s already a doting father. But I don’t feel more.”
“Because of Ian?”
“Ridiculous, right? He showed me what I’m missing, and now I can’t pretend or manufacture it. If I get lucky enough, maybe I’ll find it again one day, but I don’t see it happening with Smith.”
Sara smoothed her hand over Gentry’s head. “I hope you find it.
“Me too.” They walked around the building together, and Gentry stopped short. Colby must’ve taken off for A CertainTea. Hunter and her dad and mom looked like they were having some kind of powwow. “Oh boy. Wish me luck.”
“You’ll be fine.”
Gentry charged up to Smith first. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
“Thanks,” he said, hands stuffed in his pockets.
Her whole family looked on. “Can you take Colt with Sara and Ty for a minute? I need to talk to my family.”
“Sure.” He took Colt and the diaper bag, and Sara led him up toward the buffet tables on the patio.
“What’s up now?” Hunter asked, his arms folded across his chest.
“I’m sorry for my outburst, and I’ve already apologized to Sara,” she said.
“Good,” he replied, rising off the ground as if planning to go after his wife.
“Hold up. There’s more.” She didn’t know whom to look at, so she closed her eyes and blurted her plans. “I’m resigning from my job, effective after the launch.”
“Why, honey?” Her father’s concerned expression took the sting out of her mother’s arch one. “I’ve loved having another Cabot walk the halls and seeing you and your brother working together. It’s what I’d always envisioned when I started this place.”
Hunter’s eyes narrowed while he waited for her explanation.
“That’s the whole reason I wanted to work here, Dad,” Gentry assured him. “I thought if I could make myself love it as much as all of you, we’d be closer. But I don’t love it. I can’t see myself there in five months, let alone five years. It’s not my passion.”
“Your passion?” Jenna
asked.
“Jenna, let her talk.” Hunter gestured for Gentry to finish.
“Yes, passion. That’s why you’re all so good at it, and why I’m not.”
“You’ve done a good job here,” her dad said. “You’re still learning.”
“I’m not sure everyone agrees.” Gentry didn’t look directly at her mother, but she didn’t need to. “And it’s beside the point. I want to wake up and look forward to my work like you all do. I think I can do something with photography. And I’ve got my blog.”
No one spoke for a few seconds, like a game of chicken. With nothing left to say, Gentry accepted that they never would understand her. “I’m sorry I’ve let you down.”
“You haven’t let us down.” Hunter reached out and squeezed her hand. “You deserve to love what you do.”
“Thank you.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Dad?”
“Baby, I just want you to be happy.”
When her mother remained silent, Gentry said, “I should go catch up to Smith.”
“Hang on,” her mom said.
Gentry waited, bracing herself for disappointment.
Her mom reached over and clasped her hand. “I don’t want you leaving here thinking that I wasn’t proud of your contributions.”
“That’s not why I’m leaving.”
“Maybe not, but you need to understand that I’ve always pushed you because I believe in you, not because I think you’re a failure. I wanted you to see how much you could accomplish, and hoped that success would give you confidence.” Her mom laid one hand on her stomach. “I’m not a warm person. I know that. I could blame my dad, but what’s the point? I can’t change who I am any more than you can change who you are. I’m sorry my methods hurt you, but I swear my heart was in the right place. I love you, Gentry. I always have, and I always will. I hope, one day, we can find a way to talk to each other without all the sharp edges.”
Gentry’s dad smiled at his wife. He’d loved her for years—admired her chutzpah, her drive, her smarts. And he seemed to understand her motives and moods in a way no one else ever did. Perhaps Gentry should try to see her mom through her father’s eyes.
In a way, she and her mom weren’t that different from each other. Both hid their vulnerabilities behind a hard shell. Grandpa John had stolen her mom’s ability to give love without fear of abandonment, just like he’d stolen money from the family bank account. Through that filter, maybe Gentry could give her mom a break now and then, or at least count to five before engaging in a battle of words.