Love in Bloom

Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

G ood morning, handsome.” I planted a kiss on Dan’s bare back as he stood at the bathroom sink, shaving.

“Careful, love,” he whispered. “I almost lost an ear.” He lowered his razor and turned to wrap his arms around me and kiss me.

“You’d still be handsome.”

“I’d rather be handsome with both of my ears, if it’s all the same to you,” he growled, planting kisses on my neck and tickling me. “Are you excited about your first planning meeting today?”

“Yes… no.” I bit my lip and twisted the hem of his T-shirt, which looked like less of a T-shirt and more of a dress when I wore it. “I’m kinda nervous. I mean, I’m definitely prepared.”

I’d spent hours every day poring over anything I could find about past festivals. I’d even found some pictures of my mother from her days as a teenage beauty queen. Those moments were bittersweet. A mother and daughter with a healthy relationship would relish moments like these, but we didn’t have one of those. Sometimes, in my most desperate fantasies, I pictured my mother helping me plan the festival, but I hadn’t had a real conversation with her in at least a month. It wasn’t for a lack of trying. My conversations with Daddy had become more terse and more distant, instantly transporting me back to my childhood growing up in my parents’ house, tiptoeing around sensitive subjects, constantly feeling like my chest was being squeezed.

“All right, Emma?” Dan asked. I hadn’t realized that I’d tensed up until he placed his palms on my shoulders and they lowered a few inches as I exhaled a deep breath.

“I’m fine. It’s gonna be fine.” I exhaled another deep breath. “Everything is going to be fine.”

“Yes, it is.” He smiled and patted me on the ass as I exited his bathroom.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come to the meeting?”

“Me?” He tilted his chin up and resumed shaving his neck. “No men allowed. We just do the heavy lifting. We don’t plan.”

“That’s a little old-fashioned. Don’t you think?”

“Emma, look where you are.”

“Good point.”

“Lunch at Erica’s?”

“I wouldn’t miss it, love.” He winked at me in the bathroom mirror before I turned and skipped down the steps.

The planning committee wasn’t at all what I was expecting. To be honest—and I felt terrible for thinking this way—I was surprised how organized and sophisticated it was. It made me think back to Erica’s initial assessment of me and wonder if she was right. I’d never considered myself stuck-up or bougie, but between my upper-class upbringing, Jack and Jill, debutante balls, an undergrad degree from an elite HBCU, membership to one of the most coveted sororities, an advanced degree from an Ivy League school… Okay, I definitely wasn’t helping my case.

The committee was also bigger than I was expecting. The meeting was so large, in fact, that it had to be held in the conference room of the church. The Harvest Festival didn’t just celebrate the town, it celebrated almost the entire county. There would be performances, food stands, prestigious contests, pageants, and rides. I almost wondered why the mayor’s wife wanted me involved in the first place.

It wasn’t long before I had my answer.

“—joined by Emmaline Walters.” I snapped to attention when I heard Belinda call my name. “As you all know, she is the granddaughter of our beloved, departed George and Harriet King, and now the owner of their farm. We sincerely hope that she will continue the legacy of her grandparents, and also the good work of Dan, Ernesto, and everyone who makes that farm so special.” She gave me a warm but very pointed and not-so-subtle glance.

It had been over a month since I’d stumbled on the grow room and learned my grandparents’—and the entire town’s—dirty (pun intended) little secret. However, it never stopped striking me as odd how everyone discussed the farm. Everyone knew that I knew, but no one ever plainly discussed what the farm’s true purpose was.

“Emmaline,” Belinda continued, “is also a very gifted public relations representative and event planner in Atlanta. She’s worked with—” To my shock and awe, Belinda began to rattle off the names of some of my most high-profile clients and even name-dropped some of the bigger events I’d had a hand in coordinating. Again, I admonished myself for being so surprised. This town was small, but they did have Google. “—am so excited to hear all of her ideas for this year’s festival, which I’m sure will be the best one yet.” The room chorused in appreciative oohs, ahhs, murmurs, and a smattering of applause before it fell into an eerie silence. There were dozens of pairs of eyes on me when I looked around the room. Apparently, the committee was expecting me to speak.

“Well.” I stood and cleared my throat. “Thank you, Belinda, for that wonderful introduction.” I smiled at the mayor’s wife, who nodded serenely. “First I want to thank each and every one of you for welcoming me the way you have. I’ve only been here for about a month, and every day it feels more and more like home.” My heart pounded as I tried not to let the weighty truth of that statement derail me into making a terrible first impression on the committee by delivering a rambling, incoherent speech. “I have spent almost every moment of the past week studying past festivals and learning so much about this town, the surrounding area, and my past.” I paused for effect. The sentiment landed. “Yes, as Belinda said, I have a lot of ideas for this year’s festival, but my main goal is to learn from all of you and do my best to preserve the traditions that made the past festivals so special. I am beyond grateful that you are giving me the opportunity to do that.” I finished with my well-practiced Little Miss Georgia Peach smile that helped me win a string of pageants in my childhood. It worked. My first big hurdle as a committee member had been cleared and I could relax… a bit.

The rest of the meeting was spent voting on the larger aspects of the festival that would involve the most planning and permitting. This was the big-picture, fun aspect of planning. I knew from experience that the more detailed parts of the festival were the ones that would cause the most delays and disagreements, so I enjoyed the calm while it lasted.

I had just finished a long, exhausting round of small talk and polite goodbyes when I was approached by an elderly woman wearing a large hat. She startled me by cupping my cheek in her palm.

“You grew up to be so beautiful, didn’t you?” she asked.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Decades of home training enabled me to suppress the urge to back away from her hold, which was surprisingly gentle. She was standing only inches away from my face, and, luckily for me, her breath smelled like peppermint candies, but she was doused in what I could only describe as old lady perfume—a mix of baby powder, soap, and White Diamonds by Elizabeth Taylor.

“It’s such a shame about your sister—” She shook her head and my heart pounded. I was about to open my mouth to speak before she continued: “—and the way it tore your family apart.” Her eyes bore into mine as if she were trying to read something from my expression. I worked overtime to keep my face placid, not wanting to give away my ignorance, but also not wanting her to stop talking. “But at least some good came out of all that pain and ugliness. George and Harriet weren’t able to help Annie, but they’ve been able to change the lives of so many others. Too bad your mama couldn’t see it, but maybe you’ll be different.” She patted my cheek. A nod and small smile were the only response I could muster before she turned and slowly shuffled away.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” I jumped when Belinda placed a hand on my shoulder, catching me very deep in thought.

“Yes.” I regained my composure and pasted on a smile as I finished shoving papers and folders into my tote bag. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“You did wonderfully today.” She clasped her hands together and beamed. “Everyone is really excited about what you’re going to bring to this year’s festival.”

“I’m excited, too,” I replied, hoping to sound more excited than I felt. My brain was whirring. The very last thing on my mind was the festival.

“Belinda,” I began, and she raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at me. “Who was the woman I was just speaking with?”

“That’s Loretta Gibbons. She’s from the next town over, but she was really good friends with your grandmother. She grew up in this town, and she’s over here so much, I tell her she might as well move back.” Belinda laughed at her own joke, and I forced a chuckle in response.

“Hmm…” I nodded.

“A few of us ladies are going to the tearoom for lunch. We would love for you to join us.”

“I’m sorry, I would love to.” Another lie. “But I have a few things to take care of back at the farm and I promised I’d meet Dan at Erica’s.”

“Oh!” Her face perked up. “Well, definitely don’t keep that man waiting.” She lowered her voice conspiratorially and leaned forward. “Can I tell you how happy I am that you two found each other? We were starting to worry about that one.”

“Worry?” I tilted my head in confusion.

“Yes. For the last two years, a bunch of us have been trying to set him up with every eligible woman—and man—in the county, but he was never interested. He spent so much time alone on that farm with no one for company his own age. People started to talk…” She pursed her lips and gave me a pointed look. That was a thread I had no intention of pulling. “But then you came along, and it’s like he’s a different person.” She sighed and pressed a palm to her heart. “It just makes my hopeless-romantic heart happy, is all.” She shook her head at me, wearing a dopey smile, before she turned and walked away, leaving me alone in the church’s conference room with nothing but my thoughts. It was the same room that had held the will reading; my heart pounded and my stomach lurched thinking about the last time I was in this room. It was the day my entire life had changed. Now, it was the same room I was standing in when the realization of the truth of my family’s rift hit me like a ton of bricks. For the last month or so, the puzzle pieces had been swirling around me, and with one sentence from Loretta Gibbons, the pieces were getting closer to falling into place.

My grandparents had been trying to save Annie. That was obvious from my grandfather’s journal. That’s why they started this farm. But something else happened. Something big.

It had to be the reason that my parents and grandparents hadn’t spoken in almost twenty-five years. It was clear that their work didn’t save Annie, but that didn’t stop them from helping other people.

There was still something missing. What was the exact reason for our family falling apart? I wish I’d had the courage to ask Loretta while she was standing in front of me, but I was still too much my mother’s daughter to even consider the idea of airing out my family’s dirty laundry with a stranger. My thoughts turned to my mother. Besides my father, she was the only living person who had the answer to every question that had been rolling through my head like headlines scrolling across the bottom of the television screen during a newscast. She was George and Harriet’s daughter. She was Annie’s mother. Hell, she was my mother.

Didn’t she at least owe me an explanation for taking away two people who I’ve only recently learned loved me?

Didn’t I have a right to know everything I could learn about the sister I still loved but could barely remember?

I needed to fill this gaping hole in my heart with the truth, and I was determined to get it from the only person who could give it to me.

I sat at the kitchen table, staring at the screen of my phone as if, at any moment, it could come alive and attack me. It had gone into sleep mode three times while I stared at it, unable to move or act.

C’mon, Emma. You can do this.

I’d negotiated multimillion-dollar deals. I’d coaxed hysterical starlets into cooperation. I’d begged, bullied, and bribed my way into award shows, A-list events, and boardrooms. But calling my mother while sitting in the house where she grew up, sitting at the kitchen table where my now-deceased grandparents served Annie and me pancakes while singing Marvin Gaye, was the most terrifying thing that I’d ever done.

Speaking to my mother was never a completely pleasant experience. Don’t get me wrong, I loved her. I’d idolized her and worked to live up to her exacting standards my entire life—until a month ago—but I’d also been living in fear and tiptoeing around the incredibly delicate subject that I was about to broach today.

Broach was somewhat of an understatement. I planned on using a battering ram to blast open the door to the room in my mother’s mind that held her deepest, darkest secrets. This conversation could infuriate my mother—or worse, hurt her deeply. Was I ready to inflict this kind of pain on her? Was I ready to inflict it on myself?

I took a deep breath and steeled myself. If living on this farm and with Dan had taught me anything, it was that there were times when I needed to put myself first. The mystery of Annie and my grandparents had been eating me alive for almost my entire life. My mother held the answers, and I needed to get them from her. I also needed to do it now, while Loretta Gibbons’s words were fresh in my head. Plus, I had to meet Dan at Greenie’s in ninety minutes, and I had a feeling that I would need him after this conversation.

I exhaled one final deep breath and tapped the green phone icon on my screen. The phone rang once, twice, then a third time. Before the mingled feeling of disappointment and relief could wash over me, my mother’s voice called over the line.

“Emma?” she called again, making me realize that I was so shocked to hear her voice that I hadn’t answered her the first time.

“Mama?” I replied, and it sounded like a question.

“I’m the person you intended to call, aren’t I?” she said without the slightest hint of mirth.

“Yes, of course, Mama.”

“Well…”

“How are you?” I rolled my eyes and my head drooped. I was gonna chicken out. I could feel it. What I was about to do was an insult to chickens. I was glad King Richard wasn’t there to witness this.

“I’m fine, but I think the better question is, how are you?” Was she serious? She would know how I was if she’d answered the phone any of the times I’d called in the last month, or responded to any of the messages I’d left with Daddy. For a split second, I wondered if my dad had even relayed those messages to my mother.

“Well, I’m doing okay.” I cleared my throat. “I’ve actually called a couple of times and left messages with Dad.” I worked hard to school my tone so as not to sound accusatory.

“Yeah, your father told me, but I’ve been so busy at the hospital and with all of my charities and committees…” She let out a sigh. “I’m actually running late for a meeting, so I can’t talk long.” I swallowed a lump in my throat and my eyes stung with tears. Being the daughter of two high-achieving surgeons was hard. My mother was busy my entire life; as an adult, I’d wondered if she kept herself that way as a way to avoid me. As I sat at this table, though, I wondered if she was using her career and extra activities to avoid something else.

She’d known exactly where I’d been for the last month and why I was here, but she didn’t ask about it. And after my years of being conditioned to avoid the subject of Annie and my grandparents, I didn’t bring it up. I only had a few minutes before she would rush me off the phone with an excuse, so I had to act fast. It was now or never.

“So I’ve been asked to join the planning committee for the Harvest Festival…”

“So I take it you plan to stay there for at least another two months?”

“Maybe. Maybe longer.”

She let out a sigh.

“Emma, your life is in Atlanta. Your father and I didn’t work our fingers to the bone, spending money on dance classes, pageants, traveling for chess tournaments, tutoring, and private schools, so you could use your Ivy League education to plan corn mazes and hayrides.”

She managed to work in a guilt trip and mention my Ivy League education in one sentence.

“Well, Mother, I like it here. I’m learning a lot about myself.”

My mother scoffed and let out a high-pitched laugh.

“I swear, your generation and this self-care, self-discovery nonsense. Emma, you can bury your head in the sand—or the dirt, I should say—and pretend your problems don’t exist. I heard that Nina Laramie is considering offering you your job back, and a man like Teddy isn’t gonna wait around for you to… find yourself or whatever it is you think you’re doing. There is nothing in that town for you. Believe me, I know. Come home. Stop acting like a child and put your life back together—”

I wasn’t aware of the tears rolling down my cheeks until one hit the back of my hand that was resting on the table as I listened to my mother’s tirade. The only plausible explanation for her new insight into the state of my personal affairs was Teddy’s mother. She’d given up trying to contact me, so my mother was her next move. They’d always been allies in the fight to get Teddy and me to the altar. Starting the year after we graduated from Spelman and Morehouse, our mothers had been planning our wedding. As her rambling faded into a distant buzzing in my ear, I realized that I wasn’t crying tears of sadness or shame. They were tears of anger.

For my entire life, I’d let my mother push and mold me into the daughter she’d always wanted. I forgave her strictness and overprotection because I knew that she’d already lost a daughter. I’d pushed down my curiosity and pain over missing my sister and grandparents, but in that moment, I realized that nothing I ever did would be good enough for her. She didn’t care about my feelings, or how any of the events of a month ago affected me.

When I told her that I inherited the farm, she told me that what I did with it was none of her business, but that I should sell it and never look back.

When I told her that I lost my job, she asked me what I did to get fired and then asked when I was going to find something else.

When I told her that Teddy and I broke up, she said that we were young and would work it out.

She’d never considered how any of those things would affect me emotionally. Other people had mothers who would hold them when they cried and tell them comforting things. I’d never had a mother like that, and I probably never would.

“Emma? Emma?” My mother sucked her teeth. “Are you listening to me?”

“Why did we stop coming to visit Grandma and Grandpa after Annie died?” I asked in a low, steady voice that oddly didn’t sound like mine.

“What?” my mother spluttered, and I repeated the question.

“That happened a long time ago, and it’s none of your business. You were a child. You wouldn’t have understood.”

“Well, I’m not a child anymore, Mother, and it is my business. It’s my family. It’s my life. I had to grow up without these people with no explanation, and every time I tried to talk about it, you shut me down. I want to know. Did it have something to do with Annie? The reason why she was sick?”

“Emma, I did not pick up this phone to pick at old wounds. I am your mother. My responsibility is to do what’s best for you. To make the right decisions. To keep you safe… to…” I detected the faintest break in her voice before she got quiet. My mother was crying. My heart clenched at the idea that I’d driven her to this point, but I couldn’t stop myself. I was too close to something resembling an answer.

“Mother, I just want the truth. I have so many questions and have gone so many years without answers. We hardly ever talked about Annie after she died. There were barely any pictures of her in the house. I don’t even know how she died. She was my sister. I have a right to know!” I was vaguely aware that I was shouting, something I hadn’t done when talking to my mother since I was a teenager, and even then, it had been a risky venture. Today, I couldn’t control myself. I was sick of her hypocrisy, sick of her condescending tone. She had the nerve to accuse me of burying my head in the sand and pretending my problems didn’t exist. She’d been pretending half of our family didn’t exist for almost twenty-five years, and I’d had enough. “Just tell me!” I shouted. “Talk to me. Did it have something to do with medical marijuana?”

“Don’t you dare raise your v—What did you just say?” Her voice dropped to the dangerously low tone that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up, even at age twenty-nine.

“Did—” My voice sounded like a croak. I cleared my throat and continued. “Did it have something to do with—”

“Emma, you are treading in dangerous territory, and I’m not going to listen to it anymore. You need to come back to Atlanta, fix your life, and stop trying to dig up the past to distract yourself from dealing with your problems. Goodbye.”

“Mother, I—” It was too late. She’d hung up.

I stared at my phone screen for a few moments before it felt too heavy, and I dropped it on the table with a loud clatter. My tears were next, followed by a low keening sound. It took me a few moments to realize that I was making that terrible sound before I dropped my head into my hands and sobbed at the kitchen table.

The mattress dipped before I could open my eyes, but I didn’t have to look to know who had crawled into my bed. He curved his body around mine, snaked his arm around my waist, and pulled me into him.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” he whispered and dropped a kiss on my ear.

“What are you doing here?” I said in a hoarse whisper. “I thought I was supposed to meet you at the diner for lunch.”

“I thought so, too.” Another kiss, this time on my neck. “But you didn’t show up.” I gasped and tried to sit up, but Dan tightened his grip on my waist until I stilled. “So I tried to call you but you didn’t answer—”

My phone was still on the kitchen counter.

“—so I came home to make sure everything was okay.”

“What time is it?” My watch was charging on the nightstand, and it didn’t look like Dan was letting me up anytime soon—not that I was complaining.

“It’s a little after three,” he responded.

“I’ve been asleep for four hours,” I moaned.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?” I said, still not facing him.

“About what happened at the committee meeting that made you come home and cry yourself to sleep fully clothed in the middle of the day.” He gently turned me to face him.

“The committee meeting was fine. It was great, actually, but this woman came up to me afterward and said some stuff about my grandparents and Annie—good stuff,” I assured him when his brow furrowed, “but it made me curious, and I called my mother and…” My voice cracked and my sentence died on my lips, which Dan promptly covered with his own.

“It’s okay, Emma.” He smoothed a large palm over my back. “We don’t have to talk about it now.”

“Thank you,” I whispered and tucked my head between his cheek and his shoulder as he held me.

“Are you hungry? Erica sent home some lunch for you.”

“No, I don’t think I could eat anything right now,” I mumbled into his sweater.

“It’s waffles with strawberry ice cream.”

“Give me five minutes.”

Two weeks had passed since my conversation with my mother, and I hadn’t had too much time to wallow in self-pity because, as I was delighted to discover, once you chip through Dan Pednekar’s grumpy exterior, it was nearly impossible to be sad when he was around. He would probably say the same thing about me. We’d never brought up the L-word again after our conversation in his apartment, but it was pretty obvious that we were in love. At least, I was. He’d literally met me at my worst, and almost two months later, he was still here.

I also had very little time to think about my mother because the Harvest Festival was a little over a month away, and planning had kicked into high gear. Vendor applications were piling up. Banners had to be designed and ordered. Structures had to be built.

Today’s meeting was being held in the school gymnasium instead of the church. I was surprised at how large the school was until I realized that it wasn’t just a high school, as I’d first thought, but for nursery school through high school. We’d finally decided on the order of the musicians for the closing day concert, which took way too long, when Belinda adjourned the meeting. I was tired, grumpy, and hungry. If I had known that this meeting was going to use so much of my energy, I would have skipped the morning shift at Erica’s because, despite being so hungry I could eat a bear, I had used up my people quota for the day.

“Whew, honey,” a female voice called from behind me. “You look exhausted.” I turned around to see Erica’s mother, Debbie, standing behind me, wearing the concerned-mom expression that I’d only seen in movies.

“Hey, Mrs. Lee. I’m extremely exhausted.”

“Well, you’re working around the clock on the festival, at the diner, on the farm…” She ticked off my growing list of responsibilities on her fingers. “You need to make time for rest.”

“I rest,” I replied a little too quickly. She chuckled and patted me on the shoulder.

“You remind me so much of your mother.” She sighed. My ears perked up as my hunger and exhaustion were forgotten.

“I do?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

“Well, besides the fact that you look exactly like her when she was your age”—she raised an eyebrow—“your mother was always busy doing something. There wasn’t a minute in the day that she couldn’t fill with some activity or project.” I couldn’t suppress the smile that spread across my lips because the person she was describing sounded exactly like my mother.

“She was smart and pretty and the kindest person you’d ever meet. So generous with her time. And she was a great listener. She always gave me the best advice when we were growing up. I didn’t think a problem existed that your mother couldn’t figure out how to solve.” My brow furrowed in confusion because kind and great listener definitely weren’t descriptors I would use when talking about my mother.

“I think that’s why she became a doctor. She talked about it all the time. One year for her birthday, your grandfather got her this toy doctor’s kit with a plastic stethoscope, and she was so disappointed because it wasn’t the real thing.” She let out a chuckle. “Well, your grandfather went right out and bought her a real one, and, baby, she wore that thing everywhere. I mean, everywhere. Even to church.”

My mind whirred as Mrs. Lee’s words triggered a memory.

“Was it red?” I interrupted her midsentence. “I’m sorry, but the stethoscope, was it red?”

“You know what?” she mused, and her smile widened. “It was red. I remember because it was the same color as her wagon. She would pull around baby animals, other kids, and even her stuffed animals. She called it her ambulance.” She chuckled and shook her head. “Why do you ask?”

“My mother has an old red stethoscope framed and hanging in her office. I never knew why it was there, and I never asked.”

“Well, I say that makes a whole lot of sense.” Her smile faded and we were silent for a few moments.

“Were you… close to my mother?” I asked. I’d always wondered about my mother’s childhood, but she never wanted to talk about it. The only thing she’d ever told me was that she’d always wanted to be a doctor and had worked as hard as she could to achieve that goal. That was never the answer I wanted. Since I couldn’t get it from the source, someone who grew up with her was the next best option.

“I was very close to your mother. We were like sisters.”

“Like sisters?”

“Mm-hmm.” She nodded and hooked her arm into mine, and we began to stroll down the deserted hall of the school. “We were both only children, and my father used to work on your grandparents’ farm. We were thick as thieves.”

“So what happened?”

“Well, Erica’s dad was my high school sweetheart, and after graduation we got married and started having babies. Your mom never had plans of staying in town. She’d worked her tail off in classes, applied for every grant and scholarship she could find. Then, as soon as summer was over, she was off to Spelman, then Northwestern. Along the way, she met your dad, had Annie, then you.”

“You never saw her again?”

“No, it wasn’t that dramatic.” She chuckled and patted my hand. “When people’s priorities change, they tend to grow apart. We kept in touch for years, and of course, she’d come home to visit every chance she got. She never missed a Harvest Festival, even if she was parked in a corner reading a book.”

“So what happened?”

“I suspect—well, I know it was all that ugliness around poor Annie’s illness. I’m not sure who suffered more.” She let out a sigh. “That little girl’s illness was something your mother couldn’t solve with logic or studying. I think it took a heavy toll on her. I wouldn’t know, though. After her falling-out with your grandparents, she stopped coming to town. Our phone calls slowed down, and when little Annie passed away, they stopped completely.”

“Do you know why they had a falling-out?”

“I have my suspicions, but that’s not my story to tell.” She gave me a sad smile and patted my arm.

“Are you the one person in this town who doesn’t gossip?” I asked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Oh, honey, I’m always in the mood for a giant, steaming cup of tea.” She chuckled. “But some things are meant to be shared. Some things are meant to be kept within families. Have you tried talking to your mother?”

I let out a mirthless chuckle, but I didn’t answer her. She smoothed a comforting palm along my back, telling me that she had her answer. We took a few steps in silence before she stopped in front of a giant display case.

“Here we are,” she whispered and gently turned me to face the case. I was greeted with a large photo of myself, but it wasn’t quite me. The girl in the picture had hair that was much shorter, but also bigger—and I would never wear blue eyeshadow. Next to the photo of my teenage mother was a plaque bearing the name of some award she’d won. There were also trophies, ribbons, and newspaper clippings. I spun around to face Mrs. Lee.

“Are all the awards in this case for my mother?” A feeling of awe, mixed suspiciously with pride, swelled in my chest as I turned back to the display to closely examine its contents.

“In this one, yes, they are.” She beamed. “And it’s the biggest one in the school.”

“I never knew.” I shook my head and blinked rapidly to try to dry up the tears that were springing to my eyes.

“I see so much of your mother in you. And if you are anything like the Celeste King I grew up with, you also have a mean, stubborn streak.” She raised an eyebrow at me with a small smirk. I smiled at her in the reflection of the mirrored back panel of the display case. “Be patient with your mother. Raising children is hard, and your job is never done. I still stay up nights worrying about my babies, and they’re all grown.” She chuckled. “But losing a child… I’d suspect that would be the hardest thing to live through.”

I focused on a photo of my mother sitting atop a horse, wearing a big grin, and holding a giant bouquet of flowers. Mrs. Lee’s words echoed through my head, leaving me more confused as the tears I’d given up trying to suppress streaked down my face.