Pulled

by A. L. Jackson

  “Shall we head inside? Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes.” Julia brushed her fingers over the back of my hand and turned to lead everyone inside, smiling at me over her shoulder as she walked through the door.

  I hugged myself as I watched my family follow her inside. Sometimes this still didn’t seem real.

  I dried the last of my tears as I prepared to share a table with them. I sensed him, and I turned to meet the hazel eyes that were burning into the back of my head. Daniel’s face was indescribable—breathtaking—as if he’d just seen paradise from where he stood at the bottom of his parents’ steps. I reached out to him, my fingers extended, the energy flowing freely in the space between us. His mouth twisted up at the corners as I silently asked him to be by my side. I turned to walk inside, but he stopped me, taking my face in his hands.

  He stared intently at me, placing a firm, closed-mouth kiss against my lips. “Thank you.”

  I beamed up at him and ran the back of my hand over his smooth cheek and down his neck. I nodded in slow acceptance, because while I could object and tell him that I should be the one thanking him, that I was the one benefitting from it all, I knew he was every bit as grateful for my return to this family as I was.

  We stepped inside, and I couldn’t help but stand in awe. The house was incredible, a perfect flow of past and present as if a person could walk through a museum and still feel at home. I absolutely loved that Julia shared my penchant for antiques. Daniel chuckled and pulled me forward when the particularly charming sideboard in the foyer distracted me. “We’ll explore later,” he whispered.

  I smiled meekly. “Sorry.”

  The others had already found their seats when we entered the dining room. The conversation was loud and carefree as dishes were passed and plates were filled. When I saw that Julia had made my favorite chicken dish, I cast her a meaningful look across the table. She shrugged though she couldn’t hide her smile, clearly gratified I’d noticed her display of affection.

  My attention darted back and forth over the table. Everyone took turns sharing stories and filling me in on everything I’d missed in the last nine years. The table was filled with near constant laughter and mirth. The mood only darkened for a few moments when Patrick told of how he had lost his beloved aunt two years before.

  I never felt uncomfortable—not once. I’d thought perhaps I would feel somewhat like an outsider, like the second-wife who’d never quite fit in. Instead, it was as if a place at this table had been sitting empty while they awaited my return.

  Daniel’s touch was never far—his hand on my knee, intertwined with my own, woven through my hair, resting on my neck.

  I didn’t miss the way his family watched his every move. Patrick’s eyes widened when Daniel offered up a different version of the story Erin told, teasing that she could never tell a story without exaggerating it. Patrick’s contented expression only grew with each story that they told. Whenever Daniel laughed, Julia become nearly delirious as if she were hearing music for the very first time. And Erin, while she’d always been one of the happiest people I knew, I’d never seen her like this. She absolutely glowed.

  It was then I realized this dinner wasn’t just welcoming me back but Daniel as well.

  For dessert, Julia served coffee and her homemade apple pie. We all fell into a relaxed state, our bodies sated. The easy conversation continued as we sat and sipped our coffee.

  Daniel leaned in and whispered in my ear, “You ready for that tour now?”

  I grinned, and he stood to help me to my feet. He led me from room to room, giving me time to explore everything. I loved all that Julia had done to create such an amazing home, but I honestly was more drawn to the photos in each room. Some were familiar, ones of Daniel and Erin as children, and it was heartwarming to see them again, jogging old memories of stories I’d heard about their youth. Then there were those I’d never seen, ones of things I’d missed—family vacations, Daniel’s graduation from medical school, past Christmases—each a glimpse of a time that had simply stood still for me.

  What struck me most was the expression on Daniel’s face in every single one, each depicting an empty, hollow man.

  Daniel was patient while I examined everything, each piece holding a story that he was happy to share. It was obvious Julia never purchased anything unless it touched her in some way.

  Daniel stood behind me with his chin resting on my shoulder, telling me about the painting his parents had acquired on their last trip to Europe for their thirtieth anniversary. It hung proudly on the wall in the upstairs study. It was mesmerizing, capturing the life-long love affair of an aging couple. “I guess Dad saw it and looked at Mom and said, we’re half way there, and she had to have it.”

  I couldn’t imagine a better anniversary gift, one that was a testament to the love they’d shared and a promise of what was still to come.

  The energy swelled between us, both of us caught up in the hope of that kind of love, the kind that Patrick and Julia shared, the kind that lasted forever.

  “You about ready to go home?” He pressed a small kiss into my neck, nuzzling his nose into my hair.

  I nodded, both reluctant to leave my family and eager to be alone with him.

  The night had grown late. Erin bid everyone goodnight and went upstairs, tired from the long day of travel. We told Patrick and Julia goodbye after promising them we would be back soon. Daniel helped me into my jacket before we stepped out into the chilly night air. The second he started the car, I found myself thinking I couldn’t wait to get back to his apartment.

  The only thing better than falling asleep in Daniel’s arms was going to be waking up in them.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  “Okay, see you tomorrow. Bye.”

  “Bye, Melanie.”

  I hung up with Mom, ringing my hands together, trying to calm myself as it sank in that the day had nearly arrived. The past three weeks had been nothing short of amazing. I had spent every minute I could with Daniel, but I wasn’t blind; I knew it was starting to wear on him. It seemed as if he held me a little tighter and kissed me a little longer each time we said goodbye. I took comfort in knowing it was almost over. I’d decided to leave as soon as Mom left after her visit for Thanksgiving.

  It had given me the time I needed to put a closure on my previous life and afforded me a week with my mom, one without interruptions, a time when she and I could get to know each other again.

  Even though I was incredibly excited to see her, I was nervous and unsure of how to handle things with her. I still carried resentment, even more so now that I’d learned Daniel had gone to Dallas and she’d never let me know. But I was going to do everything in my power to see past all of it and repair our relationship. I knew it was going to be hard dredging up old issues and memories, but it was necessary if we were ever going to get past this. We both needed forgiveness and we both needed to give it. It wouldn’t be easy on either account.

  The rest of the day was spent transforming the downstairs den into a second guestroom for my mom. Until that moment, I hadn’t really even considered the fact that I’d be sleeping apart from Nicholas while she was here. If this didn’t give her a clue that my marriage was on the eve of its demise, then nothing short of telling her would, and I wasn’t planning to do that until the day she left.

  I figured we’d have the beginning of the week to talk—maybe reminisce a little about my childhood. I felt as if we needed to reestablish our connection, reform our mother-daughter bond, and build a belief in our love for each other. Otherwise, I would never trust her enough to go back to our past issues and just ask her why. She could never take back what she had done, but at least she could explain why, apologize, and take some responsibility for what she had done. Then maybe—just maybe—I would trust her enough to tell her about Daniel.

  ***

  I spent the night in a fitful sleep, nodding off only to jolt upright in bed, my body in constant upheaval. I’d study the clock to find o
nly minutes had passed between each unwelcomed arousal, and I was never able to settle into comfort. I’d hoped to sleep away most of the morning, or else I’d be pacing the floors awaiting her arrival. Finally, I gave up and hauled myself out of bed at six-fifteen. The sky was still dark, the roads silent on this early Sunday morning. I wrapped myself in my satin robe. Thanks to the lack of sleep and my frayed nerves, I was all too eager for my morning pot of coffee. It was going to be a very long day.

  After Nicholas left to play racquetball, I busied myself with small chores around the house. I hated feeling so agitated. I mean, my mother was coming to visit. I should have been thrilled—not weighed down with so much worry and apprehension.

  At just after four-thirty, the doorbell rang. I raced across the living room, only to stop in front of the door to give myself an internal pep talk. It’s going to be okay. She wants this as much as you. She’s your mother. My hand trembled against the knob. Open the damn door, Melanie! I screamed at myself. I inhaled deeply, finding enough strength to turn the knob, and stood back to allow the door to swing open. I stifled a sob that gathered in my throat when I saw her. My feet were frozen, unable to move as her gaze met mine.

  Mom.

  I had missed her more than I ever understood until that very moment. She stood in front of me, her hair piled on top of her head and streaked with gray, her waist noticeably thicker, her eyes sad.

  “Melanie,” she whispered. I could feel her probing, penetrating through my exterior, searching me. There was a peculiar expression on her face as she drank me in.

  “Mom.”

  That was all it took for her to drop her luggage and throw her arms around me. She moved to hold my face in her hands, wiping away my tears produced by the sudden onslaught of affection with her thumbs. It was an affection I’d craved, missed, needed. An affection that came only in a mother’s touch. An affection I would never outgrow.

  Her words bled heavy and penitent as she told me over and over, “I missed you...I missed you.”

  “I missed you so much, Mom.” I hugged her back hard, clinging to her.

  “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.”

  I pulled back, shaking my head as I squeezed her hands in mine. “Not yet. I know we need to talk, and we will before you go, but can we just please just enjoy each other for a little while?”

  She nodded and pulled me to her again. “Whatever you need. But I’m not leaving here until you and I are okay.”

  I laughed through my tears, nodding, thankful she was here for the same reason I wanted her to be.

  I sniffled and shook myself from the overwhelming emotions. “Here, let’s get you settled.” I helped her gather her bags, handing her one, slinging the other over my shoulder, and pulling the large suitcase behind me.

  “Are you tired? I can go and start dinner while you take a little nap.”

  “Yeah, that sounds great. Are you sure you don’t need help with dinner?”

  I shook my head. “No, just get some rest. I’ll come get you when it’s ready.” I gave her another quick hug and left her in the makeshift room.

  During my day of mania, I’d made meatballs, and now I only needed to make the sauce and noodles for the spaghetti I’d planned. I figured I’d let the sauce simmer for a while to give Mom enough time to recuperate from the long flight.

  I found myself at ease in the kitchen, my unrest settled the moment I’d seen Mom. Every worry I’d allowed to work me into a frenzy had been soothed by her very presence and the promise she would stay until we worked things out.

  My phone vibrated in the back pocket of my jeans. I smiled because I already knew who it was, his sweet words asking if I was okay.

  I looked over my shoulder just to ensure that it was clear, my fingers quick across the small buttons as I told him everything was perfect and I couldn’t wait to see him again.

  It was surreal just how perfect everything was.

  I quickly deleted both messages and tucked the phone back into my pocket. After adding the noodles to the boiling water and stirring the sauce, I set the table and pulled the salad from the fridge. I waited until the last minute to wake Mom.

  I popped my head in the door, and she stirred under the blankets when I called to her, “Hey, Mom, dinner’s ready.”

  She looked up, still sleepy-eyed and tired, but her mouth turned up into a wide smile when she realized where she was. She rubbed her palm over her face and through her hair, yawning as she threw back the covers. “Coming.”

  She excused herself to the restroom to wash up while I went in and placed the food on the table. Nicholas had come home about a half an hour before and I reluctantly went upstairs to call him to dinner. I hadn’t made him dinner in weeks, but I couldn’t see sitting down to eat without him while Mom was here.

  “Peggy.” Nicholas walked into the room wearing his carefully crafted façade, the one he wore for those he wanted to impress, for those who he wanted to think more of him than he really was. He pulled her into a condescending embrace, patted her on the back, kissed her cheek. My muscles recoiled as I watched him delude her into believing he was something he was not. I knew it shouldn’t bother me that she thought so much of him. She didn’t know him, and why should I expect her to? I’d kept her away all this time. Why would she not believe I was happily married, that Nicholas was a good man, and that I wanted to be here?

  “So nice to see you again, Nicholas.” She forced a smile as she halfheartedly returned his hug, withdrawing quickly to find her seat.

  My mouth dropped open as I looked between the two of them. Could I really have been that blind? Had my pain left me in such a haze that I really hadn’t seen? All these years, I had believed that Mom loved Nicholas, thought he was perfect for me, thought he was better than Daniel.

  But it was clear now that my perception had been skewed because my mom’s feelings for Nicholas were unmistakable.

  She hated him.

  ***

  “Could you hand me that, sweetheart.” Mom pointed to the measuring cup closest to me.

  “Sure.” I smiled and passed it across the island to her. I turned back to stir the milk into the potatoes and pulled the mixer from the cupboard to whip them. We both moved effortlessly about the kitchen. It was clear that cooking had been a love I’d inherited from my mother, and we’d done a lot of it this week. We’d baked and laughed and talked, finding refuge in the best room of the house. We’d start our day off in here over coffee and breakfast and cap it off with dinner, the two of us growing closer with each meal. We still hadn’t had the talk, but we knew it was coming. Instead, we savored our time together as mother and daughter, not as two strangers, but as we had been years ago.

  She knew something was up. That first night after we’d wished each other goodnight, I’d gone into the bathroom to brush my teeth and get ready for bed, only to find her lingering in the darkened living room. I’d stood fidgeting with the hem of my pajama top, not sure what to do. I’d realized then she was asking me to give her a glimpse into my life—asking me to trust her. I’d walked quietly across the room, my face trained on the floor, and stopped to look back at her as I opened the door to the guestroom. She’d simply given me a single nod of understanding and withdrawn into her room, closing the door behind her. She’d never mentioned it once, though over the week, she’d watched. It was not because she was judging me, condemning me, or finding some fault in my actions. Her eyes were soft and tender as they followed me through the room.

  “How’s that turkey coming?” Mom grabbed a towel and patted her hands dry, leaning down to peer into the oven over my shoulder.

  “Looking pretty good. I’d say we have about another half an hour before we can pull it out.”

  “Smells good.” She placed a loving hand on my shoulder, offering a gentle squeeze as she went back to the green beans simmering on the stove.

  I basted the turkey before closing it in the oven, then crossed the kitchen to begin pulling the china from the hutch. Even fac
ing away, I could feel her become rigid, her muscles tighten, her back stiffen.

  “Will you ever be able to forgive me?” Her voice was soft—so soft I almost wondered if she’d wanted me to hear. I stilled before lowering the plates to the counter. Resting my hands flat on either side of them, I searched for a way to answer her question. I was still so angry. But after this week, the time we’d spent, the things we’d shared, everything had changed.

  “I think I already have.”

  I felt her release the breath she’d held, and we turned at the same time, ready to finally face the past, only to be interrupted by Nicholas rushing in through the door from the garage. Flashing a fake smile, he declared how delicious everything smelled. My face flushed red, angered by his mere presence. Mom saw my frustration and smiled weakly before she mouthed, “Later,” as Nicholas left the room and headed upstairs. I nodded and continued to pull the rest of the dishes out and took them into the dining room to set the table.

  “Melanie, sweetie, could you come and help me in here?”

  I followed Mom’s voice back into the kitchen, finding her struggling to pull the huge turkey from the oven. I giggled at how ridiculous it had been for us to pick such a large turkey for three people.

  “Here, let me get that.” I nudged her aside and took her mitts. I strained to pull the pan out and wrestled it to the counter. We both fell into a fit of laughter at our physical inadequacy. Mom chuckled as she whispered conspiratorially, “Well, that was the first time I actually wished Nicholas was around.”

  I looked at her, stunned, before I clapped my hand over my mouth and cracked up all over again. I quickly composed myself when I heard Nicholas coming down the stairs, but I was still snickering under my breath.