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“There’s no point in discussing something you can’t accept and I won’t turn away from.” She tilted her head when she saw her mother glance over to the connecting house.
“Worried what the neighbors think?”
“They’re away for the weekend, but I’m not going to have this conversation standing out here.” She started to step back, and Breen flicked out power, shut the door.
“You will, but it won’t take long.”
“I won’t have this, Breen. I made that clear.”
Her voice shook, Breen thought, and that was temper as much as fear.
“You did, and perfectly clear. You won’t have this—who I am. You’ll only have that—who I’m not, who you worked so hard to makeme become. I’ve become something else, and I’m happy. I wanted to tell you, I’m happy. My life isn’t perfect. It’s never going to be, but it’s mine.”
“It’s not! It’s what they’ve put into you, and into your head. I’m the one who raised you, the one who gave you a home, and stability, and a direction, a purpose.”
“All of that was yours, your home, your version of stability, your direction, and the purpose you chose. Now I’ve chosen. My book comes out soon. I’m going to New York tomorrow, and I may sell another. Writing makes me happy. It’s work, and it can be hard, but it makes me happy. My gifts make me happy. They’re work, and can be hard, but they give me joy. I have my own direction, my own purpose.”
“It’s a fantasy, and a dangerous one.”
“You’re not altogether wrong, but it’s still mine. But I know you worked hard to give me a life, a home. I’ve thought a lot of things about you, and us, over this past year. I realize you did your best, and that has to be enough.”
“Open this damn door and come in the house. I won’t air out this nonsense in public.”
“I’ll open the door for you in a minute, but I won’t come in.” Now, Breen thought, or ever again.
“You lied to me, all those years, and with the lies took something so precious from me. You made me feel, constantly, lacking and less and inadequate. And so unhappy. You had to know how unhappy, Mom.”
“You were safe, healthy, with a good education and a perfectly good career.”
“And miserable struggling to push myself into the mold you made for me out of your own prejudices and fears. I never fit. I broke that mold. It wasn’t easy, but I did. And now I fit. I can’t make you fit into the mold I might wish for, and I won’t try. You did your best, I accept that, and I’m grateful. You lied, and you were wrong to lie to me, wrong to dismiss my happiness until I believed I just wasn’t entitled to it.
“I won’t come back again, but I needed to tell you that. You were wrong, and you hurt me. And I forgive you.”
“You— I’ve done nothing but—”
“I forgive you,” Breen repeated. “And hope, sincerely, you have the life you really want.” She turned and walked away. “Door’s open.”
It had been a weight, so heavy, and now it simply spilled off her shoulders. Lighter, so much lighter, she walked and walked on a cool April afternoon.
She walked, light and somehow free, passed the tattoo parlor, glanced down at her wrist.
And, again on impulse, went in. She had it done in the same script as the first, just below the shoulder of her sword arm.
When she stepped out, Sedric waited.
“I should’ve known you’d check on me.”
“You needed the walk, then in you went. I thought to wait, and now I see no sad in your eyes.”
“No.” She stepped to him and into his arms. “I went to Marco’s mother, and I did what I needed to do. I said what I needed to say. And realized, when I faced my own mother, how alike they are in this way. This immovable way.
“So I did what I needed to do, said what I needed to say to my mother. Then I forgave her.”
“Ah.” Smiling, he brushed a hand over her hair. “And so the burden’s gone.”
“I did it for me, not for her.”
“Forgiveness is forgiveness.” He cupped her face, gently kissed her cheeks. “Now your heart holds more light. Your nan will be pleased, and proud as well. Now, what did you have put on yourself this time?”
