“I hadn’t thought about that in a long time.” She looked up at him, tears caught in her lashes. “All the important men in my life have let me down. Do you understand what that means?”
“I do, yeah.” But I’m not one of them. He wanted desperately to say that, to pull the ring out of his pocket and ask her right then and there. However, there was a part of him that knew this was not the time. This was his chance to open up to her. To show her a side of himself that he hadn’t yet. “My mom was similar to yours in that she did everything to make sure Roan and I had whatever we needed. It wasn’t easy to raise us by herself when the perfect Hayes family lived just on the other side of the family farm.”
“A family with a mother and father,” Mauve said. “With two parents.”
“That’s right. As much as I love my aunt and uncle, there was always a part of me that felt jealous. When my grandfather died, he’d set up the trust so that my mother and Walter shared equally in the maple syrup business. But my mother didn’t careabout syrup. She’d always wanted to be a teacher. So she and Uncle Walter worked out a deal between them. He would take on the farm duties so she could teach school, promising to make sure she got a little of the profit, if there ever was any, which some years was a stretch. In exchange, she promised to help on the farm during the summer months. She was really good at marketing and community outreach. They built the house where Roan and I were raised on the other side of the property. It was a good life. And then we lost her.” Jason stared into the fire for a moment, noticing the blue of the gas flames, the way the fake logs were perfectly laid to make it look real.I have to be real, he thought.That’s the way to show her who I am. Not a man who leaves. Not like my biological father, but a man like my Uncle Walter, who put his family first. Always.
“Have I told you she died a few days before our high school graduation?” Jason asked.
“Yes, you have. You boys must have been in total shock.”
“We were. I don’t remember much from those days after she died. I do remember we almost didn’t attend the ceremony. Roan didn’t want to go. He said he couldn’t face all those sympathetic eyes on him.” He rubbed his thumb absently against the mug of cocoa in his hand. “Talk about rage. Roan was furious at the world. At God. At everybody. I think I just went numb.”
“But you went to graduation?”
“Yes, I had to. For one thing, I was the class speaker. Also, Uncle Walter told us Mom would haunt us from the grave if we skipped it after everything she’d done to get us there.” A faint smile tugged at his mouth. “Which is exactly right. I’ve been thinking about her a lot since I’ve been home.” Jason leaned back against the couch cushions, grateful that he could remember his mother’s life now instead of just her death. That had taken a long time. “She was the life of the party. Quick-witted. Clever. A terrible cook. No matter how much Aunt Grace tried to teach her, most of her meals turned out a little on the dry or soggy side, depending.” He gave a quiet laugh. “But she was tough. As tough as they came. She taught second grade all day, then helped with marketing for the syrup business at night. During sugaring season she worked weekends too. But she never complained.” He paused. “Isn’t that something?”
Mauve placed her hand on his knee. “It is, yes. Just like my mom.”
“When you’re a kid, it never occurs to you how much our mothers do. All the sacrifices. All the small, every day choices they make to prioritize another human’s happiness and well-being over their own.” He set his mug aside so he could place his hand over Mauve’s still resting on his knee. “She was my biggest fan too. When I was in high school and the lead in all the plays, she never missed a performance. I’d say, ‘Mom, you don’t have to come every night.’ She’d just shake her head and laugh. ‘Oh, yes, I do.’ She’s the one who encouraged me to audition for BFA programs, even though it was a long shot. She knew I’d get in. Never had one doubt.”
“Did you give your speech at the ceremony?”
He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering walking up to the podium and scanning the audience for his mother before remembering she was not there. The person he’d written the speech for would never hear it. That awful hollow sickening feeling that became a daily occurrence for years. Every time he wanted to tell her something about his life—or ask a question—and the awful dawning that he could not. Ever again.
He glanced over at Mauve. Her lips were pressed together, almost like she was holding her breath, waiting for his answer.
“Yes, I made the speech. I’d written it for my mother, describing the sacrifices she’d made for Roan and me and how much she inspired me. Then I segued into how special it wasto have grown up in Sugarville Grove. How I suspected the rest of the world would not be as kind as the one we’d been lucky enough to grow up in. I challenged the rest of the graduates to be kind like my mother and the community that had raised her. I asked them to remember they were part of a community that would always be there, during good and bad times.”
“How did you get through it?”
“My delivery wasn’t great. I mostly read from my speech, without any emotion—just trying to get to the end. But when I looked up, I could see how my words had affected the other kids and the rest of the audience. Tissues dabbing at eyes and all that. But all I could think about was that my mother would never hear my words. My tribute to her.” He looked down at his hands. “It hasn’t gone away. Wanting to tell her about things in my life and knowing I can’t is hard. Still.”
Mauve reached up to stroke his cheek. “I wish she could have heard it.”
“That was the one moment of peace I got that night. Aunt Grace pulled me aside and said Mom had read the speech. I’d left it on my desk in the bedroom. She said it had touched her heart and made her so very proud. That made everything bearable.”
“I wish it were different for you,” Mauve said.
“I’d tell her about you. That would be first on my list.”
“What would you say?”
“That I finally found a woman I want to spend every moment with. That you make me laugh and think and want to be a better person. That you’re the one I want to build a future with.”
“Only you can’t.”
He shook his head, turning to smooth her hair behind one ear. “She would straighten us out about that, I’m pretty sure.”
“How so?” Mauve asked softly.
“She would tell us that love is rare and that, if you find it, you should hold onto it.”
“That’s what my mother said too. So did Reese.” She glanced down at her watch. “Oh my, we need to go now or we’ll be late.”
“Let’s talk some more, okay? I have some ideas. For us.”
“Yeah, okay.” She smiled at him, love in her eyes. He knew with complete certainty. He would do whatever it took to make her feel safe and wanted. Even if it meant changing some of his dreams. Because nothing could be as good as sitting with the woman he loved in front of a warm fire with snow falling gently outside the windows.
