I whirl around to see my mom glaring at me and tapping her foot angrily. Gingerly rubbing my shoulder from where I just got smacked, I give her a little pout. "What'd you do that for, Momma?" Calling her what I did as a boy usually softens her up. Doesn't work this time.
The Looksettles over her face. "Amos Mitchell Shay..."
Ducking my head, I feel a little sheepish. A man's never too old to be reprimanded by his mother. I bend down and press a kiss to her soft cheek. "Now, Mo—."
"Don't youMommame. That poor girl's been crying and heaven only knows what you've done to her."
I pick her up and swing her around in a hug as she reluctantly laughs and slaps at my back. Taking the hint, I stand still, her feet hovering as I hold her off the ground. "I love you, Momma," I murmur against her hairline. "Do you still love me?"
Exasperated, she leans back and cups my face. "You know I do. But you've got to be gentle with her—so gentle. She's such a sweet woman with fragile emotions, and if you've steamrolled her like your father did me, you may be doing more harm than good."
"I swear I've been as gentle as I can with her." Mom doesn't understand just how patient I've already been. And she's not going to know the details because that's between me and Mercy. "Suppergonnabe ready soon? I'mgonnago wake her up so she doesn't get grumpy from sleeping too much."
"Amos..." she warns. "If you weren't my son and I didn't know you Shay men do these things with the oddly twisted but sweetest of intentions, you'd better believe I'd have sent her back to her home whether you liked it or not."
And I'd have taken her again. Because she's mine."Don't worry, Momma. I'll be sweet, I promise." Another peck to her cheek and I put her down. "Dad told me you stopped for fast food. Don't know if she mentioned it to you or not, but she's diabetic. Can you make something safe for us to eat?"
Dad used to cook for us all the time, but Mom butted him out of the kitchen when the supper menu got too repetitious.You stick to making breakfast, Mitchell,she'd said with a raised eyebrow. A person can eat the same thing only so many times before getting sick of it.
"Amos, oh son of mine," Mom sighs. "Do you know if it's type one or two?"
Come to think of it..."Not sure."
"How old is she?"
"Thirty-three."
"And a grown woman?"
In all the right places."Yes," I drawl.
"Then don't you think she's old enough to know what she can and can't eat, no matter which type?"
Her words are like a cold bucket of water to the face. "Of courseshe is! I just want to take care of her, that's all."
"I know you do, baby, I know you do. But be careful your concern doesn't cross the line and turn into dictating. Besides, Dad and I have been eating a little lighter lately ourselves, so that won't be a problem."
Uh-oh."Why?" I demand. "Did the doctor say something at his last checkup?"
"No, but you know he's not one to eat his vegetables, and the doctor just gave him a general warning about making his meals more colorful. I already told him mint chocolate chip ice cream doesn't count."
Relief settles in my chest. "You'll be sure and tell me if anything changes, won't you?" It's not often I reverse the roles and play the parenting card on her. They're still in the prime of their lives at sixty-five and fifty-eight, but it's a jolting feeling to wake up and realize that time stops for no one. Though I know my biological mom's passing was completely unpreventable, it's made me extra wary when it comes to their health. No matter how old a person is, they still need their parents.
"Oh, sweetheart." Mom gently squeezes my shoulders, knowing where my uneasiness stems from. "You've got to realize some things are out of your control and learn to be okay with that. Enjoy life, Amos. We only live once."
I know.
Time is short and life is fleeting.
That's why we've got to make it count and chase after what really matters.
Chapter nineteen
Amos
HereIamagain,leaning against the doorframe and watching my Mercy escape from her emotions by sleeping. My heart twists at knowing I'm the source of her distress, but it's not easy for me, either. When a Shay loves a woman, he loveshard.
Pulling my boots off on the way to the bed, I climb in, gently dragging her into my arms. I'll wake her in a minute, but first I need to hold her again and know she's mine. Reaching to brush the hair away from her face so I can see her better, I almost wish I hadn't.
