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22
Mary and Mommawere sitting around the kitchen table, finishing up their breakfast.
“Your food is on the stove,” Mary said.
“Thank you.”Katie grabbed a plate and dished out scrambled eggs from the frying pan and a heaping serving of creamy grits from the saucepan, adding extra pats of butter on top.She poured a full cup of coffee.Hands full, she carried it all to the table and sat down.
She didn’t realize how famished she was until she took the first bite of eggs.
“This is delicious,” she mumbled with her mouth full.
Mary laughed.“You don’t know what you’ve been missing.”
It didn’t take long for Katie to scarf the food down.She finally put her fork down and pushed the plate away.She reached for the coffee cup and sat back in her chair, taking a long sip.
Momma had been quiet, watching Katie eat.
“You got in late last night.”Her lips were pressed together.
“Yes, I let myself in.”
“I waited for you for hours.”
Katie felt like a kid again—a teenager being interrogated for missing curfew.Her dad had been strict when she was living at home.He had his rules and made sure she knew it.But Katie had a rebellious streak and ran past curfew more than a few times.He punished her for it and left her crying.Her momma had consoled her, wrapping Katie in her arms until the tears subsided.
She had disappointed her mother, and it was not a good feeling.
“I’m sorry.I didn’t know you were waiting.Did I wake you up?”
“No, I went to bed.You know, I was worried.”
“I’m a big girl now.”
“So what happened?”Mary asked, leaning forward across the table.
Katie twisted her napkin, folded it, and unfolded it.
“Chase was going to take me straight home after the wedding, but I asked him to take a drive, and we made a couple of stops along the way.”
“Must have been a long drive.You were gone for hours,” Momma said.
“He took me to the new diner.Well, I know it’s been there a few years, but it was new to me.We had homemade custard pie.So yummy.”
Momma cracked a smile.
“I remember how you taught us to cook.Remember the year we went apple picking and came back with bags full?”Katie asked.
She nodded.
“You took out pie pans while we washed the apples.I don’t know how many apples we peeled and cut, but my hands were sore by the time we were done.”Katie glanced at Mary, eyebrow raised.
“We had so much fun.And you let us roll the pastry.I made a mess and splattered flour all over,” Mary said, a glint in her eye.“And you know what was the best part?When you opened the oven door, and I saw the beautiful pies—the first pies we made together.”
Katie scanned the kitchen, the countertops, the stove, the oven.It was smaller than she’d remembered.But it held many memories—this kitchen and this small, humble house where she grew up.The chair where Dad had sat was now empty.She missed him.Momma was heartbroken when he died.He was the love of her life and her only one.Her grief was inconsolable.But Katie hadn’t been here for her mom then, nor for her dad when he died.She’d put her career above everything and everyone else and paid a price for it.Mary had been here, and she’d shared what Momma had gone through—during the day when she stayed in the house, wanting to be left alone, and during the nights when she cried in bed, longing for her husband in the privacy of her bedroom.In the mornings, her eyes would be red and swollen.
Mary’s voice broke in.“Momma has an eye appointment tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll take her,” Katie offered.
