I zoom in on the first photo. “She has the same little heart shape birthmark that you do,” I say, pointing to her face.
Her fingers go to her cheek.
“She’s going to love you. I can’t lie though, she kind of loves everyone.” I laugh. “She’s got a soft heart like her mother.”
“I feel incredibly honored that you’ve even considered letting me meet her.”
“Why wouldn’t I? You’re her grandmother.”
She covers her face with both of her hands. “This is going so much better than I ever imagined,” she mumbles.
I pull her hands down. “Why don’t you come home with me? You could stay with us a while.”
The look on her face has me instantly regretting my offer.
“Hey, it’s okay. It was just a thought.”
She chews at her bottom lip. “I would love to, but …”
“It’s fine, Mom.”
“I want to. I really do, but I’m scared to leave.” Her gaze roams over her home. “I’ve never been away for longer than an afternoon, and that’s not been very often. I can count on two hands the number of times I’ve been past the front gate,” she admits quietly.
My eyes widen in surprise, but then I remember everything she’s been through. “Oh, gosh. I’m sorry.”
She sits up straight. “Don’t you ever apologize to me. You could walk out right now and never look back, and you would have nothing to apologize for. You could call me by every name in the book and still you would have nothing to be sorry for. I take full responsibility for everything that’s happened in my life.”
Her gaze bounces over my face and her eyebrows jump in surprise as if she’s just realized something. “Did … did you just call me Mom?”
“Yeah. Is that okay? It’s what I’ve always called you.”
She sucks in a shaky breath. “I’m not sure I deserve that title.”
I understand her hesitation in accepting all of this. She’s hid from me my entire life. I could spend my time being angry about that, but what good would it do? Naw, I’m not going to do that to myself.
“What title have you been using for me?” I ask bluntly.
She blinks at me. “I call you my son,” she says hesitantly.
I know she thinks she’s wrong for being so presumptuous to refer to me as hers, but it’s everything I wanted … maybe even needed to hear.
I shrug my shoulders. “Sounds pretty simple to me. We’re mother and son, but I want to be more than that. I want to be friends.”
“I want that too.” She takes a deep breath and looks me in the eye. “I’m sorry I can’t come home with you right now, but I will work toward that goal if it means getting to spend time with you.”
The fact she’s willing to face her fears to build a relationship with me means more than anything. I know how hard it can be, but I do want her to be with me, so I’m going to hold her to that. She shouldn’t be up here all alone.
“Thank you. I have so much I want to share with you back home, but until you feel safe enough to leave, I will come to you.”
Her eyes fill with tears. “You remind me so much of Raffe.”
The way she whispers my father’s name makes me pause. There’s an ache in her voice. Her fingers roam over her throat, and I lose her to her memories.
She misses him.
I don’t know why this is such a revelation to me. I guess I’ve never really thought about the relationship between Jenny and my dad.
Is this what my mom was talking about in her letter when she said she had reasons she wasn’t proud of?
