I also imagined he would have liked Kit.
Mother I was less sure of. She rejoined us for meals but didn’t say much. Nothing to me. Her silence hurt. Father’s absence hurt. Merrick’s betrayal… hurt.
So, I buried myself in my responsibilities.
It might have been the most actual labor I’d done on the farm. Kit kept me on task, and by the end of each day, I was too exhausted to do much besides fill my belly then tumble into bed before the next morning started the process over again.
By the sixth day, Mother had remained steadfast in her avoidance, and I’d had enough. After breakfast, she fled to herbedroom while Sayla washed dishes, and Kit and the other men prepared to venture back out into the fields.
At the dining table, I caught Kit’s sleeve as he was pushing his chair in. His dark eyes met mine with a question I was all too ready to answer.
“I’m going to talk to her.” I tipped my head toward the hallway.
“Do you want me to come with you?” he asked.
“No.”
I would have liked to think it was because, if I was man enough to take responsibility for this property and my family’s wellbeing, I was man enough to confront my own mother. But really, I was more afraid of what she might say about Kit. Disparagement he was better off not hearing.
Kit nodded, then tugged me in for a chaste kiss. “I’ll be in the fields if you need me.”
I forced a smile and headed for my mother’s room before my conviction failed.
Walking to the back of the house, my footsteps echoed my heart’s stuttering rhythm. I arrived before Mother’s closed door and raised my fist to knock, then paused before I could.
Was I prepared for this? I’d considered all the worsts. She could disown me. Cast me out as a criminal and revoke my right to this farm and this family. She could report me or Kit. See us hanged for our transgressions. I could only hope that her choice to simply ignore us was its own offering of peace. She didn’t want to ruin me, just like I didn’t mean to ruin… everything.
The house was rarely quiet, but she had managed to make her absence loud. It hung heavily on me now, oppressive and dark.
I sucked a steeling breath and knocked.
“Mother?” My voice sounded faint, like it wanted to be as far from this as I did. “May I have a word with you?”
After a few moments, her response came muffled through the door. “I don’t think so, Penny. I’m not feeling well.”
My face twisted in a frown. I stared at the door, eyes tracing the grain of the wood where it swirled and stretched. I’d come this far. I’d given her days, and this was hard for me, too. So hard that I didn’t trust myself to return if I left now.
“If you’re too unwell to talk,” I began, “perhaps you can just listen?”
She gave no answer to that, so I puffed out a sigh and turned to put my back against the wall beside the door. I leaned heavily and watched the wood as if I could see her face in it. I watched the knob, too, hoping it would turn, while I struggled to express the things that had plagued my thoughts for days.
“It’s all right if you’re upset with me. Angry, even disappointed. Maybe you should be. I know I lied to you. And I left you so soon after Father died. You might have needed me.” Like I needed her now. I’d spent so many months in Ashpoint missing this place and the people in it. Having them apart from me even after I’d returned made my heart ache.
“I didn’t mean for it to happen this way. I didn’t mean to stay away and abandon you in your grief. I didn’t mean to fail at bringing Father home…” Clammy heat rushed my face. “I didn’t even mean to fall in love…”
My throat was thick, and I swallowed, drawing from wells of courage that were so near dry I was surprised there was anything left. I couldn’t be sure she was listening or that she cared. All my truths could have been dismissed as excuses. She might have thought it unforgivable. That her son had become a stranger, a wicked thing haunting her home.
Still pressed against the wall, I slid down to sitting with my knees up and my arms draped atop them.
“But I did.” The confession escaped as a murmur. “I did all those things. And I think… I think it’s going to be okay.”
The door creaked open and startled me. Mother must have been as close to her side as I was to mine, waiting for me to say the right thing. Or the wrong one.
Her caramel brown eyes shimmered with moisture. “How do you know that?” she asked, her voice faint.
I stood, afraid to reach for her but wanting her close. This moment of acknowledgment was the most I’d had in days, and I was desperate for more. A bit of hope that she wasn’t done with me. That I was still welcome and wanted here.
“Can we, um…” I dragged my sleeve over my face to catch the tears preparing to fall. “Can we go for a walk?”
