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10
Laying on the bed in the room that used to be Mia’s, once upon a time, she held the handful of Post-it notes from her daughter in her hand as if it were the Holy Grail of mother and daughter relationships.
Funny the things that scared people most. Or at least, gave them pause.
When she left Wayward, for the second time, she was sure she had lost everything and everyone, but to her surprise, Lucas had shown up.
Here, at what used to be her home, turned into a garish movie set, by people who killed Marshall and tried to hurt Angus and Mia.
But he came. To help her.
Other than Marshall, and even he had his own reasons, she tried to recall a time when anyone bothered to show up to help her.
The paper crinkled in her palm. It might not be all bad. Lucas had told her Mia missed her terribly, right before thrusting the notes into her hand.
They had made a pact of sorts. That she would lean on others and trust them to help her out of this mess. Lean on him.
Reason warred with desire.
Say things did escalate, and she was faced with the decision to either walk away or to leverage the opportunity to make it all go away. At least for everyone else. It was difficult to forget her daughter was an easy target, despite being thousands of miles away.
The thought of Mia coming to harm due to her missteps weighed heavily on her mind.
She had often wondered how Marshall managed it all.
He wasn’t young when she married him over a decade ago. And up until he became sick, or poisoned with whatever Dr. Hillsboro had running through is I.V., he had been strong in body and spirit. At the same time, his basic goodness shined through.
Whatever the reason for him keeping secrets from her, they had to be good ones as he had been indefatigable when isolating her from all the issues and problems that might deter her from her responsibilities.
She got a hint of his singular process when a problem cropped up with her company, and he would run through the details with NASCAR speeds, weighing potential solutions and then, together, settling on the best course of action. Always handling it with as little discussion or fanfare as possible.
Having been a loner for the greater part of her life, his process resonated with her. And she soon began to resolve her own problems, discreetly taking matters in her own hands while involving the fewest number of people.
He used to say, “There are no absolutes. No right or wrong decisions. Just those you make based on the information at hand while maintaining a clean conscience.”
Such a good man.
Who loved Pearl.
Birdie had gone to the facility to visit with the petite woman earlier in the day, after her exchange with Lucas. She hadn’t recognized her and that hurt, terribly. Jeanette assured her Pearl’s body needed time to detox from all the medications the other facility, or poor excuse of an institution, had given her.
Her palms grew sweaty so she threw caution to the wind, grew a pair, and sat up.
If Marshall could protect his family with an ironclad resolve while at the same time showering them with love, then so could she.
There were three Post-it notes. Opening them, she set them side by side as if sacred tomes. Just three Post-it notes, each with one line of handwriting.
Mom, (and I mean that in every sense of the word)
I miss you. Please come home.
Your asshole of a daughter,
Mia
Birdie smiled.
Just like that, her shoulders dropped into place and her spine relaxed. There were still things they needed to hash out. For starters, the details of her life she had surgically cut out and kept quiet.
