Chapter Two
My mom works much longer hours than I do, so I often find myself at the house alone. When I moved to Wheaton two months ago, my mom had just moved into this house after living in an apartment when she first arrived in town.
The house is over a hundred years old and much bigger than needed for two people, but my mom got a great deal on it—probably because it’s directly next to the town cemetery. I plan to fix up what I can and leave it better than when I found it.
“Hey, Birdie,” my mom calls from downstairs. “Are you up?”
“I’ve been up for hours,” I call back. I pull my shirt over my head and go down the creaky, winding stairs to find my mom standing in the entryway.
“You’re back earlier than I expected.” I glance at my watch, and it’s only one in the afternoon. Usually, on Saturdays, my mom doesn’t walk through the door until at least dinnertime.
My mom’s face lights up when she sees me. “You look nice. Are you going somewhere?”
It’s been rare since living in Wheaton to wear anything besides scrubs. But today, I put on actual clothes.
“You know Sunny and Sis’s granddaughter, Camilla?”
My mom nods.
“Well, she invited me to her son’s birthday party. He’s turning two.”
Her smile grows even wider. “That’s so great, Birdie. I want you to meet people. You’re too young to be cooped up in this house hanging out with me.”
“You could try to meet people too,” I say. “You’re also too young to have no life whatsoever.”
My mom laughs and walks into the kitchen, and I follow her.
“I need to get the nursing home stabilized before I can pull back on some of the hours.”
She’s been my only constant my entire life.
My mom had me when she was eighteen. She and my dad were high school sweethearts, and she gave birth to me the summer after their senior year. They got married the month before I was born and lived on my grandparents’ farm in South Dakota. My dad left us for good when I was one. He stayed in the same small town throughout my life, so he was always around but never in the role of a dad. I was raised by my mom and grandparents, and my relationship with my sperm donor, as I sometimes call him, has been complicated my entire life.
“Where’s the birthday party?” My mom turns to me as she pulls takeout from the fridge and sticks her fork in the stir fry.
“It’s at her and Jake’s place on the lake.”
“Oh, fun,” my mom says. “You haven’t gotten out to the lake yet. It’s beautiful—probably the best part of this town.”
“I figured I should at least try to get to know people while I’m here.” I grab my mom’s fork and wrap a noodle around it.
The best thing about being a traveling nurse is that I never had to invest in any relationships. I’d come for a three-to-nine-month assignment and then be on to the next town or city. My mom and I have that in common. She usually only sticks around until a nursing home is healthy enough to run itself. She likes fixing things, much like me. But sticking around hasn’t been our strong point.
“I agree.” My mom puts the lid back on the takeout. “And I really like it here. Who knows? Maybe I’ll stay.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it.”
“Oh, Birdie girl.” My mom comes around the island, puts her hands on my shoulders, and inspects my outfit. “I can’t remember the last time I bought a house when I moved to a new town to run a nursing home. I’m getting too old to keep moving from one place to another. Wheaton is showing real promise.”
I check the time again, not wanting to be one of the first to arrive. “The party only goes until four. Do you want to go out tonight and grab a pizza?”
“Oh, honey,” my mom says. “As much as I’d love that, after I go for a run, I’m headed back to the nursing home. We had two folks call in sick today, and we’re short-staffed. I’ll be back late.”
“I won’t wait up.” I grab my car keys and phone and kiss her cheek. “Love you, Mom.”
“Love you, Birdie girl.”