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Everything was already different.
She embraced her, laying her cheek on the soft curly hair and giving into tears, speaking between sobs. “I love you so much. I’m going to miss you.”
“Don’t cry, Mommy.” Abra’s voice quivered, and when she pulled away her own eyes brimmed. “Don’t cry.”
“I’m not. I won’t.” She sniffled fiercely. A large warm hand landed on her back, and she drew strength from Cash’s silent presence. “Have a good time. Use your journal so you can tell me everything when you get back.”
“I will.” Still, Abra didn’t move.
“What’s the hold up?” Mark appeared in the doorway. His frown of disapproval raked Penta’s already frayed nerves.
He was smart enough not to point out the sheen of tears in Abra’s eyes. “Let’s go, honey. Everyone’s waiting for you.” He held the door wide as she bumped her suitcase through, looking over her shoulder with trembling lips.
Penta followed, drawn by the irresistible magnet of motherhood. “You’re going to have a great time, baby.” She made a shooing gesture. “Go on now.”
Her daughter straggled down the sidewalk, handed her luggage to the van driver, and climbed in.
Penta gripped Mark’s arm. “You’ll take care of them, right? Make sure they message me as soon as you arrive.”
His stern expression softened. “I will. Thanks for letting them come, Penta.” He looked past her and she followed his gaze to Cash. The men nodded, and she had the distinct feeling the responsibility for her well-being had been officially transferred. She should have been insulted but didn’t have the energy.
Before she knew it, her driveway was as empty as her heart. Cyril and Felix drifted downstairs to snatch some more sleep before the day truly began. Cash took her limp hand and drew her to the large, upholstered chair Cyril had vacated. He sat down, tugged her onto his lap, and held her as she sobbed.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Penta was well-accustomed to the “absent child” phenomenon. When even just one of her children was away from home, their lack created an emptiness that outweighed all else. With both her daughters gone, half her life was sucked out. As for Felix and Cyril, they might as well have been ghosts, the first busy with his new job and the second with Elle.
Being with Cash helped. He introduced her to a few of his favourite authors and they had wonderful arguments about what they liked and didn’t like to read. Long sunny evenings gave them plenty of time to ride after he finished work. And when he confessed he loved her baking but did little himself, she spent a pleasant afternoon creating a recipe book filled with her favourites—for which he thanked her in delightful ways.
Still, she had far too many empty hours to fill. She should have used them to find a job. But her enthusiasm for that project had vanished.
Cash’s insightful comments had forced her to examine her reaction to Felix’s rejection of university. Yes, she was disappointed. Yes, she wished he’d made a different decision. But her anger and the way she’d lashed out came from an unexpected source.
Jealousy.
It was humiliating to admit, but there it was. Felix had been living the life she’d exchanged for motherhood, the life she’d never had but missed with an unexpected ache. While she’d never regret giving her children the attention they deserved, maybe she regretted not finding a better balance between her own needs and theirs.
Feeling as if prying eyes were boring into her back, she explored the local university’s website. She wondered if the credits she’d received almost two decades ago would still be valid. Not that she could go back to school at her age. It would be degrading, sitting in a classroom with fresh-faced teenagers. This was just a distraction, something to keep her mind off her girls.
Eight days after they left, she stood in the kitchen waiting for her morning coffee to perk. Her gaze fell on the calendar tacked to the bulletin board. In the past, the squares had been filled with the numerous activities and appointments a large family generated. This month, it was shockingly blank.
The British Columbia Day long weekend stretched ahead, and an impulsive idea seized her. She grabbed her phone and started to search. The chances of finding a cabin available at such short notice on the busiest weekend of the year were infinitesimal, but it didn’t hurt to try.
CASH PULLED INTO PENTA’S driveway, still chewing on the mysterious text she’d sent three hours ago.
I hope you don’t have plans for this weekend. Pack for three nights. Bring a swimsuit—or not. Can we take the bike?
Of course he didn’t have plans. Any that didn’t involve her, at least. And take the bike where? Not that it mattered. He’d go anywhere with Penta.
He was relieved she sounded like herself again. She’d taken the girls’ absence hard—far harder than he’d liked. But this message brimmed with sweet energy and teasing optimism. Maybe Penta Unleashed was back.
His feet had barely hit the concrete when she popped out of the front door, a backpack on her shoulders, two carrier bags dangling from one hand, and his spare helmet—her helmet—from the other. She kept it at her place now. It had seemed silly to continue packing it back and forth when she was the only one who used it.
“Hi.” She pecked him on the cheek, angling her head to avoid his helmet. “Ready?”
“Ready for what, exactly?”
Her cheeks were flushed, eyes bright, grin so wide her lids crinkled. “I booked us a cabin at Vivian Lake. I need to get out of the house. I never thought I’d find something so late, not for a long weekend, but they had a last-minute cancellation.”
