Chapter 21
J ade looked at Lydia but didn’t move closer to her bed.
She barely recognized the frail, sallow-complected woman, her face and abdomen swollen.
Her former blazing red hair that had always been chemically enhanced from a drugstore box was a dull, yellowy orange.
Her eyes were closed, and Jade didn’t know if she was sleeping or. ..
The lump in her throat grew. During her childhood, she’d witnessed Lydia in various states of health, mostly bad ones. But even when she was using and drinking herself to oblivion, she hadn’t looked as bad as she did now. Reality slammed into her. Mom is dying.
Lydia’s eyes opened, and as if she sensed someone in the room, she turned her head. “Who’s there?”
Jade clasped her shaking hands. She could still leave. Lydia didn’t know she was here, and she’d tell Logan not to say anything to her. He and Tameka had taken their coffees and gone to the waiting area. Jade appreciated their respect of her privacy, but it might be for nothing.
“I know someone’s there,” she said weakly. “Come on in.”
She stepped from the shadows and neared the bed.
Lydia’s eyes widened. “Jade? Is that you?”
All she could do was nod.
Her mother smiled. Jade noticed she was missing some teeth— sone on the top and two on the bottom. From drugs? Liver failure? It just added to her pitiful appearance. She took a couple steps forward, still keeping her distance.
“I can’t believe you’re here.” She kept her gaze on Jade’s as if she had never seen her before. “Did Logan talk to you?”
“Yes.”
“He’s a great kid. It’s so fortunate we met.” Her eyes shifted to the seat by her bed. “Do you want to sit down?”
No. She wanted to leave, but not because she was angry. Not anymore. It was hard to be mad at someone who was suffering. All she felt was compassion, and she didn’t want that feeling. Not where Lydia was concerned.
“Or you can stand.” Lydia managed a faint smile. “I’m just glad to see you. I wish it was under better circumstances.” Her voice was breathy too, as if she were struggling to fill her lungs with air.
Jade looked at the wires coming from different places on her body, hooked up to several machines. She had no idea what they were for—just that they were probably keeping her alive somehow.
“I guess Logan told you about my liver. I pickled it, Jade. All this”—she lifted her hand slightly, revealing the white cords attached—“is my doing.”
That was the first time she’d heard her mother take responsibility for anything without blaming someone else.
“There’s still some hope,” Lydia continued. “I’m first on the list now, according to the nurse who was in here a few minutes ago.” She stopped speaking and licked her lips. “Never thought I’d have to wait for someone to die so I could live.”
Jade’s hand went to her aching heart. She sat down on the chair, fighting tears.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to make you cry.” Lydia sighed. “I’ve done enough of that. And I don’t want our visit to be sad.”
Was she serious? “You’re dying, Mom. How is that not sad?”
“I’m still here. And I want to get to know you again. Tell me what you’ve been doing in Atlanta. How’s your job? Are you married?”
“No,” she said, shifting in her chair. “I’m not married.”
“Well, I’m sure a pretty woman like you will find a nice man soon enough.”
She already had. And because of her decisions, she lost him... twice.
Jade answered her questions, and Lydia told her about how she’d landed in rehab after falling off the wagon. “I’d been sober for six years,” she said.
Jade’s mouth dropped open. “What?”
“I got clean in ’98—”
“And you didn’t tell me?” All this time she’d been sure Lydia was still using. Still bouncing from man to man, jail cell to jail cell, living life on her own terrible, selfish terms.
“I wanted to. But the last time we spoke, you said you never wanted to see me again.”
That was true. Lydia had called her, begging for money.
Jade didn’t have it to give, since she was still bailing Logan out and paying legal bills.
The last straw was Lydia not bothering with even the most surface pleasantries.
No “Hello. How are you doing? I miss you.” Just a demand for cash, as if she were entitled to it.
“Logan told me that you said the same thing to him.”
She looked at her lap. “I had to.”
“I know. And you did the right thing, for both of us. When I got clean, I was able to see what I’d done to you.
I was ashamed, and still am. I thought more about what I wanted than what my own child needed.
By some miracle you were able to live a normal life and be successful on your own. You didn’t need or want me.”
“Mom—”
“You had every right not to. The reason I stayed away was I knew you were better off without me. Simple as that. I ended up drinking again, but I got myself in rehab real quick. I didn’t want to lose my spot on the transplant list.” Her eyes started to close. “Sorry, honey. I get tired easily.”
“It’s okay. You can sleep if you need to.”
Lydia nodded off for a couple of minutes, then woke up again. She turned to Jade. “I hope someday you can forgive me. I do love you. I was terrible at showing it, and if the Lord gives me a little more time, I want to...”
Jade wiped her eyes as Lydia dozed again. Her emotions tumbled all over each other as she tried to process everything. For the first time, she actually believed her mother. She loves me. She reached for her hand, something she hadn’t done in years. Decades.
And she wasn’t letting go.
* * *
Two weeks after Kalista had tried to pay Tyler back—he was still refusing to acknowledge her existence—her life had settled into somewhat of a rhythm.
She helped Viv and Bo with the morning chores and had been very excited to find out one of Bo’s sows was pregnant and would give birth in a month.
She was excited that she would get to see the piglets.
She was also pleased to help Viv with the wedding plans— particularly addressing envelopes in calligraphy once she felt brave enough to learn.
She was surprised how much she enjoyed penning the fancy script, and when Viv decided she wanted calligraphy on the thank-you notes too, Kalista eagerly offered to do them all.
She was also learning to cook... a little.
That wasn’t as much fun as calligraphy, but she could make a good baked potato and some passable spaghetti and meatballs.
Daddy still hadn’t called her, and Kalista still didn’t have access to her phone.
She didn’t care as much anymore, now that she was diligent in checking her gas tank and had read almost all of the Jane Austen novels on Viv’s bookcase.
She didn’t bother with the TV anymore, or the radio.
It was more fun to sit on the front porch and read.
She did wish she would hear from Daddy. Didn’t he miss her, even a little? She kept that to herself, though, and she refused to call him. She shouldn’t have to chase down her own father.
Her paper delivery job was going well too. She could hurl a newspaper with almost flawless accuracy, and she had started taking treats to little Pepé, at Viv’s suggestion. He literally ate them out of her hand. How sweet.
But nothing between her and Tyler had changed.
Not on his end anyway. Unfortunately she had suddenly and without warning been obsessing over him—covertly watching him when he was working with the other carriers or talking to Cletus and Paul.
She’d even taken to lingering after coming back from her deliveries so she could catch a glimpse of him.
Since he was oblivious to her, she didn’t have to worry about getting caught, and she could admire him from afar.
The more she was around him, the cuter he was.
Not just cute. Le cute. Cute infinity. And when he took off his glasses to wipe them on the edge of his T-shirt. .. le sigh .
“Kalista?”
She glanced up from the envelope she’d been addressing and looked at Viv. “Yes?”
“Everything okay?”
“Sure.” It wasn’t. However, everything wasn’t bad either. “Why?”
“You were sighing.”
She was?
“Have you heard from Raymond at all?”
“No.” She applied the fountain pen tip and made a black swirling O .
“Hmm. Maybe I’ll give him a call.”
Kalista’s head popped up. “Why? Did I do something wrong?”
Viv gave her a sweet smile, one that made Kalista warm inside. Like she was loved. “Not at all. I think you’ve acclimated faster to Clementine than I did. I was just wondering if you were feeling homesick.”
She thought about it. “Not really.” She went back to writing.
“You don’t miss home? Your friends?”
“A little. I miss the beach.” But even as she said that, it wasn’t the beach parties or being seen at them. She missed the sound of the waves, the sand in her toes, the salt in the air.
“I like the beach too.” Viv picked up her pen. “But I’m glad everything is going well for you.”
Kalista was about to nod, then stopped. “There is, um, one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Do you know Tyler Hernandez?”
“April and José’s boy? Yes, he’s a very nice young man.”
If she had to hear one more time how nice Tyler was... “I think... I think I kinda like him.”
“Ooh.” Viv put down her pen and rested her hand on her chin, curiosity sparking in her eyes. “Do tell.”
Now this was the Viv she remembered—the one who liked a little bit of drama. She told Viv about how she was rude to him at the hoedown, and ever since then he wouldn’t talk to her. “I even tried to pay him back for the funnel cake. Twice. He wouldn’t accept my money.”
“That sounds like Tyler.”
“But he acts like I don’t exist.” Her mood was deflating. It was hard to admit she wasn’t appealing to him. “He even said it’s hard to be around me.”
“He said that?”
“Uh-huh.”
She sat back up. “That doesn’t sound like him. Are you sure he said those exact words?”
“Yes.” Why was she pushing this point? “He doesn’t want to be around me. Ryan didn’t either. Daddy definitely doesn’t—”
“Your father loves you.”