Heaven to Betsy (Emily #1) by Pamela Fagan Hutchins

Author:Pamela Fagan Hutchins [Hutchins, Pamela Fagan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781939889249
Publisher: SkipJack Publishing
Published: 2015-04-01T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Two Tylenol PMs and a few large glasses of Mother’s boxed white zinfandel had silenced the voices in my head last night, but I’d awoken three times, screaming. Each time, it was Valentina’s face I saw. Once, the girl was calling my name. She was dressed in an odd skirt with white markings on her face and a funny hat that stuck up around her head like the rays from the sun—the way a child would draw them. Once, she was bloody and lifeless. The last time, around six a.m., she lay in a coffin.

I knew further sleep was futile. The scent of coffee already filled the house, so I rose.

I padded on bare feet to the kitchen. “Mother?”

She looked like a ghost in her long white gown, standing at the sink. She turned to me. “You should be in bed.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” I poured myself coffee into an extra-large, blue ceramic mug and added some powdered hazelnut creamer. Stirring, I said, “Nightmares. No cramping or bleeding, though. I think the worst has passed.”

She turned back to the sink, and I saw that she was staring out the window into the predawn darkness. Her coffee cup sat full beside her on the counter.

“I’m sorry, you know,” she said.

“About what?” I asked.

“Being rough on you. Pushing you about Rich.”

I absorbed her apology. My response didn’t come easily to my lips. “Thank you,” I said, finally. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I’m sorry that you won’t be having a grandbaby yet.”

At my words, her shoulders heaved. I went to her, put my hand on her shoulder as she sobbed, “I’ve been so lonely for so long.”

I pulled her into a hug and rubbed between her shoulder blades, hushing her. “Shhh. It’s going to be okay.”

“After you, I had miscarriages, you know. Tubal pregnancies.”

My stomach twisted, hurting for us both. “I didn’t know.”

“Finally, I just gave up. And your father . . .” She took a few deep breaths and pulled back until she held my eyes with her own, wounded. “I don’t want to drive you away, too, Emily.”

I stood frozen in her gaze, immobilized in the minefield of our shattered memories, losses, and fears. When I spoke, I tiptoed through them, half-expecting an explosion with every syllable. “You are my mother, and I am your daughter. That’s forever.”

She tightened her hold on me, her hug fierce and desperate, and I hugged her back just as hard. Behind me, the kitchen clock tick-tocked its witness to my promise. Then she released me.

She didn’t bother to wipe her tears, just grabbed her coffee and asked, “Toast?”

“That would be perfect.”

We ate together in silence, taking turns with the sections of the newspaper. My hands shook as I held the sports section, and I laid it on the table to read.

After breakfast I showered and retreated to my room. I closed the door and leaned back against it, exhaling slowly. Long minutes passed while I just breathed. When my shaking stopped, I stood and tried to figure out what to do with myself.

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