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Tall and lean, Gibson’s mother tucked her ankles to one side as she leaned forward to visit, her spine arrow straight. She’d always had that noble bearing about her, making Lark want to improve her own posture. Yet there was nothing else remotely intimidating about her. She was warm and chatty, the kind of person content to carry on a one-sided conversation if her companion felt quiet, and that worked for Lark just fine.
Given how her job necessitated drawing people out conversationally, it had often felt like a relief with her former mother-in-law to just listen. And it had been ages since they’d spent time together. Gibson had been away so much during the last six months of their marriage that Lark had few opportunities to see his mom.
“I am all situated, thank you.” Stephanie smoothed a manicured hand over a blue throw pillow. “Gibson moved my furniture so I’d feel at home,” she mused as she stroked the soft pile of the fabric. Then, she lifted her gaze to look at Lark. “But it won’t really feel like home until we all sit down for a meal together.”
Surprised at the invitation, Lark hesitated. Things were uncomfortable enough for her since she needed to speak to Gibson privately and tell him about the secret she’d kept from him. But to suspend that task in order to sit through a tense meal with him?
Before she could answer, Stephanie hastened to add, “But it’s your house, dear. I don’t mean to invite myself over before you’re ready. I just think it will be nice for us all to catch up as a family.” Reaching across the couch cushion to Lark’s side of the sofa, she squeezed her hand. “Gibson, you should bring your wife that water after all. She looks a little pale.”
Realization swept over her. Hard.
Stephanie thought they were still married.
Lark’s gaze shot to Gibson’s face. She read the apology in his eyes this time. His helplessness in the face of his mother’s merciless illness.
When had Stephanie gotten so much worse? She was only in her early sixties.
“I will get her some, Mom,” Gibson assured her, coming to Lark’s rescue. “Why don’t you show her where we set up the doll collection?”
Stephanie’s blue eyes brightened as she nodded. “Of course.” Rising from the couch, she gestured for Lark to follow her toward the bedroom. “I’m preserving the dolls for my granddaughter one day. I hope it won’t be much longer, you two!”
Lark’s step faltered, the lighthearted remark smacking her like a two-by-four to her midsection. Her hand went to her mouth to stifle a gasp.
How much crueler could this day get?
Pretending she was married for the sake of Gibson’s mom. Smiling through prompts to make a baby with the man she’d once loved and now loved all over again without him knowing. All while carrying this awful secret that weighed on her like lead shoes.
It hurt that Gibson hadn’t bothered to tell her about his mom’s deterioration when he’d invited Lark to visit. He must have known even then how tough it would be for Lark to smile through the pretense that they were still a couple.
Or what if she’d unwittingly revealed the divorce to Stephanie?
Still, she had zero right to be indignant about his secrets considering her own, but that didn’t stop her from feeling frustrated. Hurt. And battling the urge to flee.
“You okay?” Gibson’s voice sounded low beside her as he caught up to her in the corridor. He passed her a glass of water, his fingers brushing hers while his mother led them into one of the bedrooms.
“Not even close,” Lark fired at him, edgy and overwhelmed. “We need to talk.”
“And we will. She tires more quickly these days, and her caregiver will return in an hour.” The sadness in his voice at the mention of his mom’s health reminded her how much he’d been dealing with on his own. “We’ll speak then.”
Heart softening, she nodded. “Fair enough.”
Until then, she would visit with her former mother-in-law and look at the dolls for the baby Lark wasn’t meant to have.
He should have warned her about his mom.
Gibson had recognized it the second Lark’s panicked eyes had sought his when his mother referred to her as his wife. He’d had years to watch the slide of his mom’s mental health, but the last time Lark had seen her, she’d been merely forgetful.
Not overtly confused and disoriented.
Now, as his mother’s caregiver ushered him and Lark from the annex he’d built for them, Gibson prepared himself for whatever Lark wanted to discuss with him. Sure, he recognized that she was probably frustrated that he hadn’t prepared her for this visit. But she’d made the trip to his place even before she knew his mom would be there, so clearly there was more on Lark’s mind than just what had happened today.
He knew better than to hope that she wanted a repeat of their night together. Her silence for days on end had assured him she viewed that as a one-time event. And yes, that still stung.
“Do you have any tea?” Lark asked him now as they moved into his kitchen.
Her voice sounded weary. And of course, tea was her comfort drink, so he knew she felt stressed.
“Chamomile or orange spice?” he flipped the switch on the countertop kettle before pulling two mugs from an overhead cabinet.
