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And how did she repay me?
By running away.
By letting me grieve.
By letting the pain of loss fester until it consumed me.
Anger prickles my skin and I turn away before I do something silly. Confronting Lucy when it’s her mother I want to see will be foolhardy. I need to bide my time and plan what I’m going to say when I see Ava.
I cross the street and enter a cafe, order a coffee with cream, and take a seat by the window. It gives me an unimpeded view of the library so I can see when Lucy leaves. It’s almost five and I don’t have to wait long. Twenty minutes later, Lucy exits the library. Only then do I realize I haven’t touched my coffee, I’ve been so focused on not missing her.
I stand so abruptly coffee sloshes on the table, but I don’t wait. I bolt out the door in time to see her turn a corner. I break into a jog. She’s half a block ahead of me and I slow to a walk as passersby cast me concerned glances.
Adrenaline courses through me, making my heart pound despite my sedate pace now and my fingers tingle. I follow her for six blocks before she slows in front of a modest brownstone. It’s tiny but well kept, with a terracotta pot filled with petunias beside the front door.
Lucy’s rummaging in her bag, probably in search of keys, when the front door opens. Only a smidgeon, but it’s enough.
I see my daughter for the first time in over two decades.
I’m behind a tree so she has no hope of seeing me and I lean against it, grateful for the support. The bark scratches my cheek, my face is pressed so hard against it. I close my eyes against the burn of tears and when I reopen them, the door is closed.
The urge to run across the road and confront Ava is strong, but I can’t think right now, let alone formulate words.
What can I say? That I love her despite what she put me through? That I hate her for abandoning me and depriving me of a granddaughter? That she’s as selfish as her father for hurting me, the one person on her side?
That’s when the tears start to fall. Not a trickle, but a torrent, and I’m sobbing so hard I can’t breathe.
No, she can’t see me like this. I need to regroup. Calm down. Figure out what I’m going to say. I’ll check into a hotel for the night and come back tomorrow.
Time enough to confront my daughter then and get what she owed me.
Answers.
Chapter37
Lucy
Istare at Spencer in disbelief. Is everything and everyone in this place possessed?
“What are you talking about? My mother got hit by a bus.”
His gaze is pitying. “And I suspect Cora pushed her in front of it.”
“You’re out of your mind.” I take a step back from him, another. The man is unhinged. He’s right about one thing. No matter how tempting Cora’s offer is, I need to follow my gut and get the hell out of here.
“Just hear me out.” He holds out his hands, palms up, like he’s got nothing to hide. He’d be one of the few around here. “What I’m about to tell you may sound unbelievable, but I want you to keep an open mind, okay?”
I won’t make a promise I can’t keep, but I manage a terse nod for him to continue.
“I recognized you the moment you arrived.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and takes a few deep breaths, as if he’s having trouble continuing.
“I don’t know you, so you mean I remind you of someone?”
“You’re the spitting image of Ava,” he murmurs, sadness clouding his eyes. “You had to be her daughter.”
“So you weren’t just messing with me when you said I was just like her and you actually knew my mother?”
His nod is brief as he glances away, his gaze fixed on the ocean while a myriad of emotions play across his face: pain, loss, regret, sadness. I can’t fathom it, but it gives me hope that this man is telling the truth and he can provide me with insight into her time here.
