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She didn't really look like my mother, at least not the woman I remembered. Her once long, brown hair was streaked with gray and cut short to her shoulders. A wide bandage wrapped around her head. Her face was very pale, and her breath barely a whisper. Her eyes were closed so I couldn't see if they were the deep-blue violet I remembered. But as I stared at her for a long minute, her features resonated deep within me. I knew her face. I knew her nose and her mouth. I knew the freckle under her left eye that matched mine.
The truth hit me like a punch to the gut.
This woman was my mother.
The woman in this bed had once loved me and sang to me and laughed with me. She'd told me she'd always be there for me, but that had been a lie. She'd left me. She'd left Dani. We'd thought she was dead. My father had told us she had died.
Had he lied? Was he in on the secret? Or did he think she'd died, too?
I suddenly felt dizzy, overwhelmed with shock and emotion. I didn't know what to think. It was difficult to process the fact that my mother was alive…but barely.
That realization created another wave of conflicted feelings. My mother might not have died twenty years ago, but she might die before I had a chance to ask her why she'd left and why she'd stayed away.
I put a steadying hand on the bed rail. Looking at the face of a woman who was my mother but also a stranger made me shaky. I didn't know where to look. I couldn't focus. Her face was blurring in front of me.
"Are you all right?" Nurse Miller asked, her sharp voice snapping me back to reality. "Ms. Landry?"
"I don't know," I murmured helplessly.
"Why don't you sit down? I'll get you some water."
I nodded, then stumbled toward a nearby chair, taking the weight off my weak legs. The nurse poured me a cup of water, and I drank it down, needing something to take the edge off, even if it was just water.
"Do you need anything else?" the nurse asked, compassion in her eyes.
She was an older woman with a kind but weary gaze. She must be used to people falling apart in front of her.
"Is my mother's doctor around?"
"Dr. Ryker has gone home for the day, but she didn't expect any change in your mother's condition this evening. She'll be in to check on her tomorrow morning."
"Do you know where my mother was shot?"
"I believe it was on the sidewalk outside her home. There was a detective here earlier. I told him I had notified you. I'm sure he'll be in touch."
"He left me a message. I haven't had a chance to call him back yet." I paused. "You said you had my mom's phone and her wallet?"
"I did, but I turned everything over to the police. You'll have to get whatever you want from them."
"All right. You also said that my mother asked you to tell me and my sister that she was sorry, that she loved us. Did she say what she was sorry about?"
"No, she didn't, but she was in terrible shape. She wasn't able to speak more than a few sentences."
A knot grew in my throat. "I guess she didn't completely forget about us." I drew in a shaky breath. "I was told my mother died twenty years ago. We had a funeral for her. That's why I was so shocked to get your call."
Surprise ran through her gaze. "I had no idea. I hope you'll get the chance to speak to your mother directly."
"I hope so, too. Can I sit with her for a few minutes?"
"As long as you like. I'll be going off shift at eleven. But I put your number on the chart. If there's any change, someone will notify you. I'll also leave a note to have Dr. Ryker call you in the morning."
"Thank you." As she left, I got to my feet and gave my mother another long look. I was shocked she was alive but also scared she might die. There were too many emotions running through me. I felt overwhelmed, and I needed to think. I turned away from her and walked out of the room.
When I left the hospital, the cold, damp air hit my face, and I drew in a breath of relief. It felt better just to be outside, away from the woman who was my mother and the machines that were keeping her alive. I got into my car and debated my next move.
Clearly, I had some calls to make. I just didn't know who to call first. The more information I could get, the easier it would be to talk to my sister and my father.
I punched in Inspector Greenman's number, relieved when he answered. "This is Brynn Landry. You called me earlier."
