23. Jamie
I stared into her eyes.They were as familiar to me as my own. My mother. She hadn’t always been the hermit she was now, and I missed the old her. I missed the old us, the us we were before my dad died. I missed my dad. Some days, I could pretend. I could go to school and pretend he was just at work or on a business trip. That never lasted long. And her crying jag the other night was one of the reasonswhy—that and the fact that he was never coming back.
“I miss him, too.” I hadn’t meant to say it, but I was glad it was out there once I did.
Mom frowned, probably confused about how we’d gone from discussing Bailey to a confession about missing my dad.
“I know you do, honey.” Her fingers brushed the hair off my forehead.
“I probably don’t miss him as much as you, but I still do.”
“Baby,” she pulled me into her arms. I was too big for her to cradle like she used to, but she was giving it her best shot. “Of course, you miss your dad. We both do.” She held me for a few seconds, then pulled back, framing my face with her hands. “I don’t miss him more than you do. It’s just...different.”
She was right. I’d figured that out on my own. It was the whole reason I pushed down my feelings for Bailey. Mom was more broken than me. And that’s what I told her.
Her face crumpled as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. “Oh, Jamie.” She hugged me close again.
“I don’t want to ever feel like that, Mom,” I told her, my voice rough with emotion.
She cried harder, her tears soaking my shirt on my shoulder. Oh, boy. I let her cry until it seemed like she wasn’t ever going to stop.
“I’m sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.” Making her cry was the last thing I wanted to do. I hadn’t known any other way to explain my feelings about Bailey.
“No.” She lifted her head. Her eyes were red and puffyand the tears kept coming. How could one tiny lady have so many tears? “Jamie, no. You don’t understand.”
“Mom, you never leave the house. You cry almost every night.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “You threw your honeymoon picture at the wall last weekend.” I dropped my hands into my lap. “I never want to feel like that. Missing Dad is bad enough. What if I loved Bailey and something happened to her?” Like it wasn’t already too late for that. Like I didn’t already love her. “I couldn’t take it, Mom. I’m not strong enough.”
Her eyes closed, forcing more tears out as she tried to calm herself with a deep breath. When her gaze met mine again, there was a determination there I hadn’t seen in a long time.
“Baby, I’m sorry. We should have talked about this a long time ago. Go get it. Go get that picture.” She pushed at me when I hesitated. There had been enough tears already, and I had no idea how she would react to seeing that photo again. “Just do it.” She pushed me again.
I got up and went into her room, opening the drawer where I’d placed the picture. It was there where I’d left it. I picked it up and took it back to the table.
Mom’s lips curved into a sad smile when I handed it to her. “This was our honeymoon.”
I knew that, but I nodded anyway.
“When I had my accident, I went to a terrible place in my head.” Her gaze shifted from the picture to me. “I began thinking you and your dad would be better off without me.” She paused, her gaze holding mine.
I let her words sink in, and when they did, there was no stopping the sting of tears in my eyes. They spilled over to roll down my cheeks. “Mom—” I shook my head. I couldn’t say any more.
She took my hand. “I know. I guess I got past it, but it wasn’t easy. Coming home to you and your dad and having to sit in this stupid chair—” she smacked her hands down on the offending chair. “I didn’t think I could be a good mom anymore—a good wife. And I was sad. So. Terribly. Sad.”
Sobs wracked my shoulders as I processed what she was telling me. I’d never known, never really thought too much about how her injury affected her relationship with me, her relationship with my dad, from her perspective.
“I felt prettyworthless for a while, unable to do all the things I’d always done so easily. But it got better. And your dad loved me. And we both loved you.” She stopped again, her hand coming up to cup my cheek. I could hardly meet her sad gaze. It was too painful. “It took some time and patience, but I realized I was lucky. Blessed.”
I cleared my throat and tried to speak several times, but no words came.
Mom sighed. “You were little. I never wanted you to know all that. But I can see you need to understand. First, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you’ve had to be the one to hold me up when I’m falling apart—”
“No, Mom, I love you—” I said, shaking my head against her words. Of course, I wanted to be there for her.
“Shh.” She placed her finger over my mouth. “I know, Jamie. And I love you, too—more than you know. But the last thing I want is for you to worry about me. You need to go off to college and live your life.” She picked up the picture again of her and my dad. “We had our chance, baby, your dad and me. I don’t want you missing out.”
I thought about what she said. “I’m scared.”
Her smile was more serene than I’d seen in more than a year. “I know, son. I understand more than you know. Now, I want to tell you something that maybe I shouldn’t, but I need you to understand where I’ve been coming from.” She paused and took a deep breath. “Your dad went climbing alone. He fell, and he was by himself. That’s how he died.”
Wha—
I shook my head. Dad would never do that. After what happened to Mom. Knowing how hard she took it every time he left. Why? Why would he do that?
“Why?” I finally asked.
“I wish I knew. I’ve just been so—so mad at him.” I could see it on her face as she spoke. She was angry. I thought about that night I found her crying in her room after tossing the picture frame against the wall. It was the same expression on her face that night that she wore now. She was mad.
“I miss your dad. Sometimes I feel like it will kill me. I loved him so much. And other times, I feel so betrayed. I feel like he made a choice. He didn’t have to go climbing with the guys, and he didn’t have to climb by himself a day before the others even showed up.”
Oh, man. What had he been thinking? I felt the anger she was talking about.
Mom grabbed my hand. “Now, look. I don’t want you to be angry with him. I don’t know what he was thinking. And the reason I’m telling you all this isn’t for you to get mad at him. I need you to know that even though he was an idiotand he left me, and I’ve been so mad, I’d do it all again. If we could only be together for a year, a month, a day? I’d go through all the pain of this last year, all the anger—I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
“Mom—” I let my lungs deflate. It was a lot to think about, to process. We sat at the table for a long minute, each of us with our thoughts. Finally, Mom smiled sadly and took both of my hands in hers.
“I need you to promise me. If you love Bailey, and I think you do, you won’t break that girl’s heart because you’re afraid of breaking your own. Because, Jamie, nothing in this life can compare to the love I believe you could have together. Those are the risks worth taking, the kind you must take, or you’ll end up alone and bitter, and I can’t have you doing that. You can’t live life afraid.” She sat back. “I haven’t been a good example lately. But it’s not because I don’t believe in love. It’s because I do. And I’ll figure this out, this life without your dad. It’s just taking me some time, that’s all.”
I nodded, listening. I heard everything she was saying, and I couldn’t help but draw the parallel to the first thing we’d talked about that night—football. I’d just told her I couldn’t live in fear, and that’s why I would play even though she didn’t want me to. She told me the same thing was true about my feelings for Bailey. I couldn’t live in fear of losing her. The fear was causing the thing I dreaded most—losing Bailey.
Now, I just had to figure out how to fix it.
But first, I had to hug my mother.
She laughed a little and smacked my shoulder enough that it hurt. “I love you, Jamie, but no more using girls as a distraction. I’ve taught you better than that.”
“You got it.”