Chapter 46
Will
As we pulled into the visitor parking lot at Northwind Place, the guilt began brewing in my chest. I’d left her here.
And when I’d returned from the Bahamas last night, I hadn’t raced to see her.
Brie had reminded me it was all right to be tired after the whirlwind we’d just been through, but maybe I’d been avoiding the inevitable.
I turned off the car and sat still for a moment, looking at the building where my mother now lived.
It reminded me of an upscale apartment building from the outside, with its elegant facade and manicured lawn.
Burning bushes near the entrance were all brilliant red, their leaves one stiff gust away from falling.
Evelyn had chosen well—not that it was a surprise, as Brie’s mother didn’t do anything halfway, especially when it came to people she cared about. The facility had none of the institutional feel I’d initially feared when Evelyn first called to say she’d found a place for Mum.
“You okay?” Brie asked, squeezing my hand.
“If she’s having a good day—”
“Stop with the ifs. We’ll handle whatever comes up.”
I stared at her, my fingers intertwined with hers, and thought back to the last time we’d been here.
My mother had thought we were our parents, and shared that she’d always thought we belonged together.
I’d been mortified, afraid she’d tell Brie—thinking it was her mother—about all the times I’d spoken about her while I was in London. About how much I’d missed her.
But Brie? She’d been perfectly pleasant, holding me together when I couldn’t do it myself.
“I love you,” I whispered.
“Same,” she whispered back.
We headed inside, where the receptionist pointed us toward a common area on the main floor.
As we rounded the corner, I stopped short, surprise momentarily freezing me in place.
My mother sat on a plush couch at a coffee table.
Next to her, Evelyn Reynolds sat, both of them laughing over what appeared to be a scrapbook.
“Your mother’s here?” I asked Brie unnecessarily, my voice low.
Brie nodded, looking equally surprised. “I didn’t know she was visiting today.”
We approached the sitting area, hand in hand.
Evelyn’s gaze fell to our joined hands, a knowing smile spreading across her face.
“Look at this,” she said to my mother, nodding toward us. “I told you twenty years ago, Diane, those two were perfect for each other.”
My mother looked up, her eyes bright and clear—a good day, then. She shook her head. “Oh, Evie, I’m the one who told you that.”
Brie and I glanced at each other. After all my anxiety about how to tell her, this was… anticlimactic, to say the least. She pushed the scrapbook to Evelyn’s lap and stood, arms wide for hugs, which we happily gave her.
“Will, darling, what happened to your forehead?” Mum sat as Brie and I took the sofa opposite them. “And Brie, sweetheart, your poor cheek.”
“We had a bit of an accident,” I said, keeping it vague.
“Nothing serious,” Brie added quickly.
Mum didn’t look entirely convinced. Her gaze dropped to our hands again, and she frowned slightly. “And tan lines on your ring fingers? Is there something else I should know?”
Shit. This was one of her really good days.
“We were down south for work and needed to blend in,” Brie explained, smoothly picking a cover story I hadn’t thought about. “The wedding bands helped avoid unwanted attention.”
My mother’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Are you sure there isn’t more to tell me?”
“One step at a time, Mum,” I said with a smile, interlacing my fingers with Brie’s.
Her face lit up. “Finally! How long do I have to wait for more grandchildren?”
“Mum!” I protested, even though I’d been thinking about the same thing only a couple of hours earlier.
A crimson blush climbed Brie’s throat. She pointed at the scrapbook. “What are you looking at?”
“Your Auntie Diane and I took a scrapbooking class together about ten years ago.” Evelyn placed the scrapbook on the coffee table between us. “We were talking about old times and how things change.”
On the open page were photos of Brie and me at twelve, chocolate cake smeared across both our faces at my birthday party. I turned a few more pages filled with our family photos until I found a picture of our high school graduation, with both of our families posed together.
Brie’s hand found mine. What was she thinking? Was she mentally placing her father in that photo? He was the only one missing.
Even if we’d obtained everything required to free him, we’d never be able to reproduce this again. My father was gone, leaving nothing but memories. And my mother?
Brie reached the last page of the scrapbook. It was all white and cream, with paper flowers. Two photos took up the left page. One of my parents at their wedding, and the other of Brie’s parents at theirs. I’d never met Joseph, but I looked forward to it.
“What’s this?” asked Brie, tapping the page on the right side. It bore one photo, of my sister and her husband on their wedding day. Four empty frames waited for more.
“The book’s not done yet.” Mum pointed at the top left frame. “Scarlett’s the oldest, so this one’s waiting for her. Evie tells me her wedding is happening soon?”
“She got engaged just over a month ago. Her fiancé’s a real charmer.” Brie flipped to the first page and smiled at baby pictures. “I doubt he’ll wait longer than spring. He’s pretty keen to lock her into marriage.”
Mum wrinkled her nose. “I hope he’s better than that other fellow she was engaged to. What was his name?”
“Noah.” Brie grimaced, but didn’t add any further commentary.
“Not to speak ill of the dead,” said Evelyn, as though reminding us Mum wasn’t privy to the fact that Noah was alive, “but he was such a tosser.”
Brie turned to a page showing eleven-year-old versions of us hunched over some project on my father’s workbench, Dad watching with a bewildered expression in the background.
He was a talented carpenter and spent hours teaching me how to build things and take pride in my craftsmanship.
But that was the day he started coming to me to fix the electronics.
Evelyn checked her watch and stood. “I should get to the office. Will I see you two at the team meeting this afternoon?”
“We’ll be there,” Brie confirmed.
After Evelyn left, we spent another hour with my mother, looking through the scrapbook and chatting. I watched Brie with my mother, taking in the ease with which they interacted and the tenderness between them.
For the past year, I’d shouldered the weight of my mother’s care alone, terrified of what each new day might bring, what memories might slip away forever. Now, watching Brie with her, I realized I hadn’t been alone at all. Physically, yes, but not in all the other ways that mattered.
The woman I’d loved for over half my life was finally, completely mine.
And we were going to fill one of those empty frames on the back page as soon as possible.