Chapter 18
[Trinity]
It’s a beautiful day, and Mirabelle and I could use some fresh air. I decide to take a walk around downtown Rogue River.
The historic commercial district is best described as T-shaped, with the main road, Dock Street, dead-ending into an old, covered dock, freshly restored about ten years ago.
The landing was once used by ferrymen who ferried people and products from one side of the wide river to the other.
A bridge over the water has since been built outside of town, a few miles away.
Parallel to the river is River Street, where a large grassy strip runs the length of the road and river combination. It’s a public space with a white gazebo near a small boat launch and marina. The area is used for celebrations, such as the upcoming RiverFest.
The main area of town is full of fun restaurants, quaint boutiques, and one coffee-slash-romance bookshop.
My first destination is The Babbling Bean.
The interior is a rich emerald green with one wall full of bookshelves.
Mom only stocks romance novels. The front window is a boxy bay and has a long, cushioned bench with three small café tables and wrought-iron chairs, like something from a patisserie in Paris.
A rectangular wooden table fills the center, allowing a party of eight or individuals to share the space.
The coffee counter, as well as a countertop display case, frame the back wall.
A chalkboard menu behind the counter displays the daily specials.
Mom is the only one working today, and her only customer is presently sitting on the outdoor patio in the late May sunshine.
“Hi, honey,” she greets me, but beelines for Mirabelle in the stroller, leaning in to pepper her cheeks with kisses.
“How are my girls?” she says, standing upright and wrapping her arm around me.
“We’re doing okay,” I admit. Mom and I have already talked about how hard, yet rewarding, motherhood can be. She knows I’m tired. I don’t need to tell her. But something else weighs heavier on me this week.
Or rather, someone.
“Just okay?” she asks, arching a brow before stepping behind the counter and setting to work on a coffee concoction.
“I kissed Dart.” I didn’t plan for that nugget of information to blurt out of me. I definitely didn’t foresee telling my mother. But I needed to tell someone.
She spins to face me. “Really?” Her brow arches higher along with the tone of her voice. “And how did that happen?”
My face heats. I’m not about to tell my mother how I practically forced myself on Dart, climbing into his lap and pulling him to me.
“It just happened.” I shrug.
Mom chuckles like she knows better. She finishes making a very red drink and hands it to me.
“What’s this?” I haven’t even ordered.
“I like to call it after-the-kiss glow.” She smiles.
I laugh. “Somehow I don’t think that’s really the name.”
She waves toward the rectangular table, and I adjust the stroller to take a seat. Mom sits opposite me.
“Does this mean you’re back together?” Her eyes are warm, encouraging. She’ll listen to whatever I want to share. She’ll accept any decision I make.
“We’re . . . talking.”
Mom leans forward, stretching her hands across the table to pat one of mine. “That’s good, honey. That’s so good.”
I hum and lift my drink, taking a sip of something lemony and sweet, refreshing even. “Hibiscus?”
“My secret.” She winks, neither confirming nor denying her ingredients. Then she sits up straighter, “You know, honey. Having reservations is totally understandable. You’ve had a lot happen in just a few short weeks. Mirabelle arriving. Dart returning. Finding out you are still married.”
She pauses and glances at my hands around the clear plastic cup.
“It would also be understandable to have walls up. To protect yourself.” She makes a soft fist and taps at her chest. “But don’t let those walls be so thick that someone can’t get in.
See how beautiful you are. How much love you have to offer. ”
I nod, glancing down at the plastic straw standing out of my cup.
“Dart and you . . . you remind me so much of your father and me.”
My eyes burn at the mention of my dad. Dart was close to him. Dad always had a soft spot for Dart.
“A little bit of the bad boy trying to be good,” she says.
I chuckle, never having that impression of my parents.
“And we both knew Dart loves you. He needed someone like you to love him back.” She catches my gaze. “Strong. Stable. Driven.”
“But did I drive too hard?” I lower my voice, fidgeting with the straw. “I think I might have pushed him away.”
Mom sighs. “I think what might matter more is that he’s back. Is he planning to stay?”
That word probably comes back to me. His racing career is probably over. I still didn’t know what that meant.
“I don’t know.”
She smiles in her motherly way. I wonder if I’ll wear the same expression with Mirabelle one day. If I’ll impart wisdom and offer advice to her with patience like Mom.
“Only way to know is to ask. Or maybe what you need to do is keep enjoying one another as you are. Kiss the toad again, see how much of a prince he can be.”
“Mom.” I laugh.
“Keep talking to each other. But don’t forget to step back and allow a little fun in between.” She wiggles her brows before pressing up from the table and rounding it for the bookshelves at my back.
She’s become quite the expert on romantic affairs, or so she thinks, with her collection of novels for sale. She dispenses the books like dating advice. Or couples’ therapy, apparently.
“Here. Take this one.” She hands me a book with a pretty cover. A couple in a mountain setting.
“What’s it about?” I hesitate, although I almost always take my mother’s suggestions for romance reads.
“Second chances. Reunited lovers.” She wiggles her brows. “And falling in love again.”
“Mom,” I groan.
“Stranger things have happened. But there is nothing better than love.” She squeezes my shoulder.
The bell over her door tings, and our discussion is cut short as she steps behind the counter, while the customer steps forward.
“Love you, Mom,” I call out, holding up my drink. I lift the book next. “Thanks for the book.” I stand and situate the stroller. Mirabelle is awake but staring at the toy dangling from the handle.
“Love you, too, baby. Both my baby girls.”