by Marci Bolden
“You what?” She waited, hoping her mother would apologize but knowing she would never admit to being wrong.
“This situation has been challenging for all of us.”
Caroline shook her head. “No. It hasn’t. John’s mother really stepped up when you turned your back on me. She took care of me when I was scared and sick. She was there for my wedding and my graduation. You were invited to both, but you didn’t show up at either one. She called you when I went into labor. Do you remember that? She was the first person besides John to come see Katie and me. Frannie has been there for me every step of the way. The only challenging thing for me was learning how to balance school and morning sickness, but I did okay because I had John’s mom there to help me.”
Judith lowered her face. “You never made it easy—”
“It’s my fault that you chose to sit on your high horse looking down your nose at me all these months? Really, Mom?”
“Your father… He’s still upset.”
“If you wanted to see me, you would have. No matter what Dad said.” Turning back into her car, she finished securing Katie’s carrier into the car seat base.
When she shut the back door and turned, Judith was still standing there. Her shoulders were slightly bowed, her face sagged with what appeared to be concern. Caroline was tempted to back down. She almost said she was sorry for getting angry, for lashing out and making such a scene.
But she wasn’t sorry.
Her mother had all but abandoned her, which sounded silly considering Caroline was an adult. The feeling of desertion, however, was strong and it was turning into a burning resentment, building on years of other resentments. If her mom couldn’t see how wrong she’d been, if she couldn’t find the courage to apologize and to make things right, then to hell with her. To hell with both of her parents.
“Whether you approve of John or not,” Caroline said coolly, “he’s my husband. The father of my child. I’m going to make a life for us. It’s up to you and Dad if you want to be a part of that. If you do, you have to accept that John is family now too. If you can’t accept him or the decisions we’ve made for our life together, then don’t bother.” She jerked the driver’s-side door open, ready to leave.
“Caroline.”
Hesitating, she turned enough to look over her shoulder.
“Would…Would you… Does John like pot roast?”
Caroline almost laughed at how difficult saying his name seemed to be for her mother. However, olive branches from her mother were rare, so she held back her sarcastic response and nodded.
“I’d like to… You look tired. I remember how difficult those first few weeks were after I had you. You’re juggling a lot, so… I’d like to bring you dinner tomorrow. If that’s okay.”
“I would like that. Thank you.”
Judith peered into the back seat and smiled. “And if it’s okay with you, I’d like to meet my granddaughter properly.”
Part of her wanted to crumble, to fall into her mother’s arms and thank her. She didn’t. She didn’t trust herself or her mother enough to jump into a reconciliation. She had to tread lightly, step-by-step, to see what path she was being led down.
Instead, she nodded her agreement and climbed into her car. Her tears didn’t start until she’d turned the corner and was far enough away that her mother couldn’t possibly see how relieved Caroline was that she hadn’t been turned away.
By the time she reached the parking lot outside her apartment building, the relief was giving way to something else entirely. Dread.
She looked up at the old building and saw the brick façade through her parents’ eyes. While she and John understood their little apartment was temporary, her parents were going to look down their noses at their home. Caroline had worked hard to transform the space from John’s bachelor pad to an accommodating home for them. With Frannie’s help, she’d cleaned the carpets and the furniture. She’d scrubbed floors and counters until everything was clean.
However, there were dents in the walls from previous tenants. Stains on the carpets that would never come out. The space was small and quickly filling now that they had a baby. Her parents weren’t going to see this as a starter home for their daughter. They were going to see this as yet another failure. And she had brought this on herself.
Sitting in the car, with her baby sleeping in the back seat, Caroline rolled her head back and started to quietly laugh. She certainly knew how to screw things up. She should have left the situation alone. Let her parents go on with their lives feeling superior and justified in turning their backs on her. Undoubtedly, that would have been easier in the long run.
However, as soon as her ironic laugh died down, fresh tears formed in her eyes. These weren’t with relief that her mother hadn’t openly rejected her. These were because they had been right. They’d tried to warn her that her life was going to be a disaster if she stayed with John, and here she was. Her plans for medical school were on hold indefinitely. Her husband had spent half their rent money at the pub and had to crawl to his parents for a loan—one they all knew would never be repaid. And less than a month after she’d given birth, Caroline was scouring the help wanted ads looking for a nursing job that would work with John’s schedule because they couldn’t afford daycare.
Her parents were right. This was a disaster, and she had walked right into it.
Carol led her mother and aunt through a resort lobby as if they belonged there. Ellen seemed to be excited for the adventure, but Judith hadn’t stopped reminding them that they shouldn’t be there since the moment Carol parked her aunt’s car in the guest parking lot.
“Half an hour, Mom,” she’d explained as she’d killed the ignition. “We’ll be here for half an hour.”
Judith had sat staring up at the fancy resort before climbing from the car and straggling behind. “We’re breaking the rules.”
“And doesn’t it feel good?” Ellen asked with a laugh. She snagged Judith’s hand and pulled her along as they walked to the other side of the resort lobby and out to a walkway.
Carol glanced up at the bright blue sky and smiled. Katie had loved sunny days like this. This was the perfect day to leave her at Disney World.
“I don’t know about this,” Judith said.
Slowing her pace, Carol waited for her mom and aunt to close the small gap between them. “I’ve looked into this a dozen times. There’s a nice walkway between here and another resort. Once we get away from here, there shouldn’t be many people.”
“We’re going to…” Judith’s voice faded.
Carol shoved her right hand in her pocket and gripped the little container she had hidden there. Inside was a small amount of Katie’s ashes. She’d left John’s urn sealed when she’d gone into her RV to collect the remains. Her mom was there for Katie, not John, and Carol respected that. There were plenty of stops she intended to make along the way where John would be included, but this stop… This one was for Carol and Judith to share in saying goodbye to Katie.
“Mom, I promise you, we’re not going to be disrespectful to Katie or to anyone here. We’ll find a nice place to leave her remains that won’t interfere with anyone’s vacation. I don’t want to harm anyone.”
Judith looked around at the families laughing and enjoying themselves. “I know you don’t, but this doesn’t feel right.”
“Would you like to stay here?” Carol gestured toward the resort. “You can find a seat inside and wait. I promise it’s okay if you don’t want to do this. I know this is hard.”
Ellen gave her sister a gentle nudge. “At least walk with us until we find a place, Judith,” she said softly. “If you want to walk away while we sprinkle her ashes, you can, but you should see where we leave her.”
They began walking again but didn’t speak until they were away from the resort, strolling next to a lagoon. Carol smiled as she looked out at the calm water. She’d come a long way in the last few months. In June, when John had found her, she couldn’t l
ook at the little manmade pond outside of her office without dread. Now, she was walking next to a lagoon and couldn’t help but notice how serene the water was. She didn’t feel the dread she’d always felt before.
“She would have loved it here,” Carol said.
“This is too close,” Judith said, almost sounding panicked. “There’re too many people.”
Carol resisted the urge to laugh. “I know. I was remarking how much Katie would have loved to be here, in this place.”
As they moved away from the rocky shore and around another building, the sounds of children playing grew quieter. The smooth path led them away from the buildings to a path surrounded by greenery and palm trees.
“I remember the first time I held her,” Judith said out of nowhere. “She was so tiny. I don’t remember you ever being so small.”
“She was on the smaller side of average,” Carol said. “Until she started eating solids, and then she grew like mad. I swear, she doubled in size in less than a month.”
“As soon as she started walking and talking, that child never stopped,” Judith said with a shadow of a smile. “She was so much like you, Carol. So strong and determined.”
“And here I thought you were going to say smart and adorable.” She smiled at her mom to let her know she was kidding. “But you’re right. She was very strong and determined. Too much so, unfortunately.”
Ellen looped her arm through Carol’s. “We’re not going to talk about that. Not right now.”
“No, we’re not,” Carol said, lifting her face to the sky again.
The path took a sharp turn, and they all stopped. They could continue along the path to a sandy beach or go straight to where a metal bridge crossed the lagoon. There was also a grassy area. Any of those would be a nice, tranquil, out-of-the-way place to leave Katie’s remains.
Carol looked at her mom. “What do you think?”
Judith’s lip trembled and she sniffled.
“From the bridge,” Ellen quietly suggested. “Katie would have loved that bridge. Don’t you think, Judith?”
She didn’t answer.
“Mom,” Carol whispered, “you don’t have to—”
Lifting her chin, Judith straightened her shoulders and seemed to tap into her stubborn side—the one that usually signified the start of a fight. “The bridge.” Without another word, she moved forward until she stopped in the middle and gripped the rail.
Carol leaned on the railing beside her and looked out at the water. She took the container from her pocket and held tight as she rambled off the fun facts she’d memorized about Disney World—the park was the size of San Francisco and visited by about one-hundred-fifty million people each year. All those people ate over ten million hamburgers every year.
“Oh my,” Ellen said lightly, but Carol could hear the strain of emotion in her voice.
“And nine million hot dogs,” Carol added.
“Well, people like to eat,” Judith offered.
Carol nodded. “You would love it here, Katie.”
“Yes, you would,” Ellen whispered.
Judith cleared her throat. “I personally find giant rodents used for entertainment to be horrific. For the life of me, I’ll never understand why they chose mice.”
Carol pulled her lips between her teeth, determined not to laugh. However, when Ellen let a chuckle slip, Carol followed suit.
Judith gawked at one and then the other. “I’m serious.”
“I know,” Ellen said. “That’s what makes it so funny.”
Judith exhaled dramatically, as she tended to do, but her lips curved up into the smallest of smiles. Shaking her head, she looked at Carol. “Now what?”
Opening her hand, Carol showed them the small container with Katie’s ashes. “Now we open it and let her go.” She gauged Judith’s reaction. When her mother didn’t recoil or walk away, Carol made sure there was no one else in the vicinity before twisting the top off. Turning the bottle on its side, she lightly tapped until the ashes danced out. She watched them blend into the water and disappear. Once they were gone, she swallowed the lump in her throat and said, “We miss you, kitty cat.”
A quiet sob left the woman next to her, drawing Carol’s attention. She put her arm around her mom and hugged her from one side while Ellen hugged Judith from the other. Judith pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed her eyes. “Grandma loves you, Katie,” she said with a trembling voice.
The three women stood in silence for several long moments before Judith shook her head. “You’re wrong, Carol. That wasn’t cathartic at all. I feel absolutely miserable.”
“When don’t you feel miserable?” Ellen asked and offered a wink to her niece.
“This was awful,” Judith continued, ignoring Ellen’s question. “I don’t know why you’re doing this to yourself.”
Carol took one last look at the scenery, committing this moment to memory. “Because it’s what she would have wanted, Mom.”
“Well, don’t do this to me when I’m gone. Put me in the ground next to your father and be done with it.”
“Fat chance,” Ellen said. “Now that I know how much you hate giant mice, I’m bringing you right back here. I’m going to get a year pass so I can leave little Judith droppings all over.”
“Go to hell, Ellen,” Judith muttered.
Ellen’s laugh filled the air, and they started back toward the path.
Catching up to them, Carol grasped Judith’s hand and pulled her to a stop. “Thank you for doing this, Mom. I know it wasn’t easy, but this was important to me. I’m glad you were here.”
Judith pressed her hand to Carol’s cheek. Something unspoken passed between them, something Carol didn’t quite understand. A truce, perhaps? A hint of understanding?
“I love you,” Judith said.
“I love you too.”
Judith lowered her hand and walked away as if she hadn’t shaken her daughter to the core. The exchange was brief but pivotal. A huge piece of Carol’s heart seemed to have fallen back into place with that simple touch, those simple words.
Looking back at the bridge, she smiled. She didn’t know if Katie was watching over her, though she liked to believe so. If she were, she’d undoubtedly had a hand in what had transpired.
“Are you coming?” her mother called.
“We’re going to be okay, kitty cat,” she whispered before turning away and joining her companions as they discussed where to stop for lunch on the way home.
Seven
Carol stabbed at the potato salad on her plate. Rather than any of them cooking after their emotional day, they’d stopped at the grocery store on the way home and bought lunchmeat, potato salad, and chips to have for dinner. Carol intended to replenish the wine she’d finished the night before, but when her mother frowned at her suggestion, Carol dropped the idea and walked by the wine aisle without so much as a glance.
“Don’t you like the potatoes?” Ellen asked.
Carol blinked a few times before setting her fork aside. “I’m not very hungry.”
“You’re too thin,” Judith commented.
The urge to argue about her weight wasn’t even a blip on Carol’s radar. She knew better than to go down that road. Besides, her weight was fine. Her blood pressure was probably slightly elevated after staying with her mother the last few days, but her weight was fine. Instead of replying to her mom’s observation, Carol carried her plate to the trash and scraped what was left of her dinner into the bag. As she was putting her plate into the dishwasher, her phone vibrated where she’d left it on the counter.
Though she was no longer an executive with a demanding job, the habit of immediately checking her notifications hadn’t broken. As soon as she dried her hands on a towel, she pressed her finger to the sensor on the back of her phone to unlock it and found a new email from the contractor in Ohio with several photos attached.
“That’s one heck of a smile,” Ellen commented.
Carol tore her attention from t
he images she was scrolling through to face her mom and aunt. “Remember when I told you John left me the house in Dayton?”
Tension instantly filled the room. Her mother sat taller; her aunt’s eyes darted from Carol to Judith, waiting to see what was about to happen.
“You should burn it to the ground,” Judith muttered.
“Considered that,” Carol said brightly. She wasn’t going to let this devolve into an argument. This was good news. Happy news. “Instead of committing arson, we agreed I’d have the house remodeled and donate it to the children’s hospital. Families who are dealing with long-term care for their kids fair better emotionally in houses rather than hotel rooms. Especially if they have other children.”
“That’s nice, Carol,” Ellen said.
Judith didn’t respond. She kept her attention on picking at her sandwich. Carol didn’t know why she bothered putting tomatoes and pickles on the bread. She always picked them off after a few bites. Carol thought she’d developed the habit because her father wanted those items on his sandwich, and much like making chicken and dumpling soup ever Sunday, she’d never stopped.
Instead of getting sidetracked, she forced away her annoyance at her mother’s eating habits and said, “I hired a contractor soon after John died. Once the title was in my name.” She opened the attachments and held the phone out so her mom and Ellen could see. “Look at what they’ve done.”
Judith wiped her fingers on her napkin but didn’t look up. “That house was always a money pit. I can’t even begin to imagine how much this is going to cost you.”
“That’s not important, Mom. Look at the pictures.”
“I’d rather not,” Judith said.
A bit of Carol’s excitement faded, but Ellen put a wide smile on her face and leaned closer as if her extra attention could make up for Judith’s dismissal. Carol scowled but scrolled through for her aunt.
“They added a play set to the back. Isn’t that nice?”
“It’s delightful.”
“And look at the color. I couldn’t believe John still had that ugly yellow paint—”