CHAPTER 58
Phoebe
Mama pokes her head into the doorway. Sasha and Rosie go running to greet her. Lula barely looks up from her nap, as is typical.
“Am I disturbing you?”
“No, of course not. Come on in and sit down.”
She closes the door behind her and glances down at the large paper on the table before me. She brings a hand to her chest and her eyes go wide.
“Oh! That’s… you’ve captured Evander quite well.”
“Thanks.”
“He’s a very beautiful man.”
Okay. I didn’t expect that from my mother. She lifts her gaze from the portrait to me, and I see hesitation in her eyes.
“Is Dad all right?”
“Yes. He’s good. I just wondered if I might talk with you for a minute. I… I wanted to share something with you.”
“Of course, Mama.”
She grabs the small straight-back chair by the window and pulls it closer to the art table. She smiles softly at me. A lump of dread lands in my gut.
Oh, no. Please let this be about anything other than the virginity I let get away. Anything but my missing virginity.
“I see how much you love Evander, and I see how much he loves you. Maybe that’s the reason your little shack burnt to the ground.”
I drop my oil pastel to the table.
“I want you to fight for him, Phoebe. Don’t let Jake or anyone else—anything else—stand between you and happiness. That’s what I wanted to tell you.”
I feel my lips part in shock.
She reaches down to absently scratch behind Rosie’s ear, which is the Border Collie’s favorite thing in the world. Sasha, my Husky mix, needs to get his fair share of attention too, and shoves his head into my mom’s lap. She laughs.
Then she looks up at me again. “Please don’t be uncomfortable with what I’m about to tell you. I hope it’s okay. It’s about me, when I was a few years younger than you are now.”
“Mama, of course. I’d love to hear it. Is this when you started teaching?”
She smiles sadly. “It was before I came to teach at Sweetbriar. I should probably just come out with it.” She sighs and steadies herself.
“I met a man in college, and I felt myself come alive in his presence. I loved the way his mind worked, and how he kissed me, and the passion he had for his craft. He was a glassblower, of all things. Incredibly talented. His creative enthusiasm was contagious, and I loved him deeply.”
Dad didn’t go to college. He worked the ranch.
Dad isn’t a glassblower and has never valued creativity. He’s all about hard, physical work.
“That’s right, honey. I’m not talking about your father.”
I try to hide my shock, but I don’t think I’m doing all that well.
“Now, I want you to understand that I’ve had a very happy, fulfilling life. I’ve been satisfied and challenged. I’ve loved creating this big, loud, family and I love your dad. I have no regrets. Being a wife and mother has been the most profound honor of my life.”
“But…?”
She produces a half smile. “I let my father make the decision for me, and because of that, I’ve always wondered what my life would have been like if I’d been brave enough to live it as I saw fit.”
I blink in disbelief.
“So I’m asking you, my dearest Phoebe, to grab what you want and fight for who you love. I don’t want you to reach my age and still be wondering what might have been.”
She starts to stand up, but I grab her wrist. “I had no idea.”
“Of course you didn’t. Because I never told you. And I wouldn’t have even brought it up unless I believed you needed to hear it.”
“Why, Mama? Why is Jake so stubborn? And why does he think he needs to protect me from Evander?”
She nods slowly. I can tell she’s trying to find the right way to answer my question. “It’s complicated, honey, but I think that when you were little, your daddy gave your brothers a job to do, especially Jake. And it included keeping you away from the MacLaines.”
“But why?”
“You’re his only daughter.”
“So? Why that particular job? Why not tell my brothers to teach me to skateboard or show me how to tie knots or take me birdwatching? Why didn’t he tell them to keep me away from doctors or dentists or housepainters? Why focus on the MacLaines?”
My hand still grips her wrist, and she places her own hand on top of it.
“Sometimes people get an idea lodged in their minds like a splinter under the skin, and they never even try to remove it. They get used to it. It hurts every now and again, but they don’t remember what it felt like to live without it.
And if you point out how ridiculous it is that they’ve never dealt with the splinter, they refuse to discuss it. ”
I squint at my mother. “So the MacLaines are a splinter under Dad’s skin? Jake’s skin, too?”
“Yes.”
“And does Dad know about me and Evander?”
“He knew you had a crush on him when you were a kid. He was never happy about it, but thought you’d grow out of it.”
“And how about now? Has he guessed that I love him?”
“I’m not sure, honey. Now, please come downstairs and help me with dinner.”
I make sure the caps are on my paints and follow my mother out into the upstairs hallway.
“Your brothers have already set the table and split firewood. I just sent them out to the bunkhouses to deliver presents and food to the ranch hands. They’ll be gone for about an hour.”
“Okay.”
“This is going to be a beautiful, special Christmas Eve, my sweet Phoebe. Because you’re safe and all of us are together.”
We reach the downstairs and head into the kitchen.
“Oh and one other thing,” my mother says. “I was very proud of the way you handled yourself in that hospital room, with Rick and with Jake. I could have done without all the ‘F’ bombs, however.”
“So what did you think about Rick?”
She is opening the refrigerator door when I ask her this. She closes it without retrieving what she wanted and spins around.
“It would have been nice to have a doctor in the family.”
My mouth falls open.
Then she laughs. “Do you think Evander might consider med school?”
Just then, the doorbell rings.
“Why don’t you start the salad, honey? I’ll get the door. It’s probably just Mrs. Liddy from church.”
“Okay.”
From the kitchen, I hear my mother’s soft voice say, “I’m so happy you’re here. Let me take you upstairs. I told him you were stopping by.”
Did my mother really just tell me to go for it with Evander?
Is she really proud of me?
My head is spinning so fast that when I ask myself why Mrs. Liddy is going upstairs to talk to Dad, I never get around to answering my own question.