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“Another year then.”
The front door opens, and Mom stands there, looking like she’s seen a ghost. I don’t know how long it’s been since I last visited her. It could be a few years now. We’ve never been close, and Dad’s death only drove a wider wedge between us.
Hopefully this is going to be the year that we fix everything.
Although, I know it isn’t that easy.
“Hi.” Mom tucks a strand of her long blonde hair behind her ear. “I know asking you to come out here just before Valentine’s Day was a lot, but I wanted to meet the man you said you’re in love with.”
My cheeks warm as I hand her the flowers. This is new territory for us, and I don’t know how to enter it. She never paid attention to my dating life while I was growing up.
It feels weird to be doing the meet the boyfriend thing now, but she would get to know him eventually.
Especially when he’s the one person I see my future with.
“Hey, Mrs. Karlsson.” Brookes gives her a smile that melts hearts and holds out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Call me Lisa.” The smile she returns is thin. Hesitation shines in her eyes, but to anyone else, it would look like a disinterested mask.
I guess I’ve gotten better at reading Mom’s lack of emotions.
“Come in.” Mom steps to the side as she balances the flowers in one arm and opens the door wider with the other. “I’ve got dinner in the oven, and it should be ready in an hour or so.”
We follow her inside and head to the living room. The worn mauve couch still sits in front of the window, the sun-bleached spot growing bigger.
Dad’s recliner holds court in the corner of the room, perfectly angled to face the television. Pictures still hang on the walls, but they feel like a shrine to the family that once was.
Mom disappears into the kitchen to put the flowers in water while I sit down on the couch. Brookes drops down beside me, his arm draping over the back.
“I wish I could make myself as comfortable as you seem to be.” I lean into his side a little. He kisses my temple as Mom walks back into the room.
She sits down in her chair beside the recliner, the light in her eyes dulling a little. “I wish we could have seen each other at Christmas. I tried to make it work with your schedule and mine, but the dates never seemed to line up.”
“It’s alright.” I link my hands together, my nails stabbing into my skin. “I had a good Christmas with Brookes and his family.”
Christmas with them was awkward, but it was better than using the small gap in my schedule to fly home for a day. Especially when I knew Mom would do everything she could to avoid the house.
This time of year is always the hardest.
Brookes leans forward, picking up a picture of me as a girl from the coffee table. “This is cute. I really like the tutu. And the giant bale of hay that you’re climbing.”
Mom cracks a smile, her gaze cutting to me. “Jessie couldn’t have been more than four or five in that one. She used to insist that she was going to be a ballerina, even though she hated everything about ballet. She loved skating though. For a long time, she was training to make a career out of it.”
The wistfulness in her voice is a knife to the heart. My mouth goes dry as I figure out what to say to that. Brookes leans back—the picture still in his hand—and grins over at me.
“You would have been a cute figure skater, but you’re an incredibly talented doctor.”
“You’re right about that.” Mom looks at me, a thousand different emotions flashing through her eyes. “Jessie has always done great things with her life.”
Brookes easily steers the conversation away from me, asking about the farm and how long it’s been around. He doesn’t seem to mind the quiet way I sit back and lean against the couch. Not once does he try to pull me into the conversation.
If only he could have been at every family dinner for the last several years. He’s a master at breaking the awkward silence that seems to stretch endlessly.
As soon as there’s a break in the conversation, Mom stands and wipes her hands on her jeans. “Jessie, can I get your help with setting the table?”
I stand and Brookes hooks his finger around mine. When I look down at him, he offers me an encouraging smile. He squeezes my finger quickly before letting me go.
Mom leads the way into the kitchen and starts pulling out the faded blue plates we’ve used since I was born. She hums to herself, and my jaw nearly drops to the floor.
