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I opened my e-mail and was embarrassed to find five from my agent, Reena. I hadn’t checked my account in two weeks, and I knew she must be confused, since I always answered messages right away. I replied and apologized for my delay, assuring her that I would be turning in a manuscript soon. Even though I’d told her about the divorce and my mother’s illness, it was not an excuse to be lazy. Writing was my job. It’s what I got paid to do. Reena told me to channel all of my pain into my next book. There was certainly an ample supply.
As I scoured the cupboards for food, I realized they were quite bare. It was uncharacteristic of my mother to have empty cupboards, and I chalked it up to her being sick. Deciding that grocery shopping was one of the many things I had come home to help her with, I grabbed my keys and purse and drove to Maxwell’s Grocery.
Pulling into the nearly empty parking lot, I noticed that Maxwell’s hadn’t changed at all since I’d last been there. It seemed nothing in Woodridge had. I wandered inside, feeling like a teenager again as I perused the aisles. I didn’t know what groceries my mother normally purchased, so I decided to wing it and buy the things I liked to cook. More than likely I would be the one preparing meals once she started treatment.
Placing fresh spinach and asparagus into the cart, I looked up and saw Will Maxwell, the owner of the store, heading in my direction. Tall, well-built, broad shouldered, and strong, he didn’t look a day older than the last time I’d seen him. He was a handsome man in his late forties with dark blond hair and eyes that always held a trace of laughter. He was one of the kindest men I’d ever known.
“Hope, is that you?” Will squinted as if he couldn’t quite believe he was seeing me.
“Yes, Will, it’s me. I just got back into town yesterday.” I smiled at him as he pulled me into a warm hug.
“Look at you! You look just like a refined lady now. No more skittish little girl left in you, is there?” He patted me on the shoulder, and his easy personality immediately set me at ease. Everyone in town loved him.
“Well, looks can be deceiving.” I wondered what he would think if he knew the basket case I really was on the inside.
“How long are you in town? What are you up to these days?” He maintained eye contact as he asked each question.
“I’m in town... indefinitely....” I trailed off, certainly not in a hurry to delve into my pathetic personal life in the produce section of Maxwell’s.
“I’m happy you’re back, for however long that ends up being. I’ll bet your mom is glad too. How is she doing? I heard a nasty rumor that she’s sick, but you know how folks around here talk. I hope it’s not true.” Will’s face showed genuine concern.
“Unfortunately the rumors are true. She is sick, and I’ve come back to help her. Honestly, I just arrived yesterday, so I don’t know what’s ahead of us.” I shrugged, feeling again like I was on the verge of tears.
“Oh no, I hate to hear that Maggie is sick.” I’d never heard anyone call my mother that name, including Will, until that moment. The two of them had grown up in Woodridge, so maybe that’s what people used to call her. Somehow, it seemed too sweet and innocent a name for my rigid mother. “Please let me know if you need help with anything.”
“Thanks. I’ll be sure to do that.” I smiled and told him I would see him around as I pushed my cart away to finish shopping.
It was so good to see him. Ever since I was a small child he had been my friend, but then again, Will was everyone’s friend. I’d never heard anyone say a bad word about him. He’d taken an interest in my life from the time I was a little girl, never failing to ask how my mother was doing, and never talking down to me as people so often do to children. I’d always liked that about him.
Once when I was around thirteen, I asked my mom if she knew him. She told me they’d graduated together, but didn’t elaborate. She also snapped at me that I shouldn’t bother him because he was a busy man. I never brought him up again. She didn’t like me talking to anyone in town about her, and discouraged relationships in general. The only friend she had was Helen, and sometimes I wondered how she put up with my mother, but they had been close friends since they were kids.
I loaded my groceries into the car and drove back home. Mom’s car was parked in the driveway, so I mentally prepared for whatever confrontation awaited me inside. I toted grocery bags into the kitchen and placed them on the counter. My mom, who stood at the kitchen sink drinking a glass of water, just stared at me as I went back outside to get the rest. I smiled as I came into the kitchen with more bags.
“I noticed there weren’t many groceries in the pantry, so I decided to do some shopping. I’m making dinner, too. You can just go and relax.” My words left little room for argument.
“What do you think—” Mom’s voice was tinged with anger, but I cut her off midsentence.
“It’s not up for discussion. You need to rest.” I set the last grocery bag on the counter and met her icy blue eyes.
She looked at me as if she had no idea how to respond. She wasn’t used to me taking charge of a situation. But I’d made a decision that morning at the beach: this was the way I had to handle things. I couldn’t cower any longer. I wasn’t a child, and I wouldn’t allow her to treat me like one. I was normally the girl who would run around the block twice to avoid confrontation, so running headfirst at it made me nervous. Nevertheless, I knew it was the only way to handle my mother.
It was time to stand up for myself. It was past time to stop allowing her to bulldoze right over my feelings. My heart pounded rapidly in my chest and my palms were sweaty. I wiped them on my jeans. Mom wasn’t going to go down without a fight, and I knew I was horrible at standing my ground. But I willed myself to stand there, almost daring her to yell at me for buying the groceries and bringing them into her house without her permission. This time I was ready for it.
A full minute passed and neither of us spoke. As I stood in the kitchen trying not to lose my nerve, I felt like this could be a turning point in our relationship. I watched in silence as an array of emotions played in her eyes, and for a second, I felt sorry for her. The tables had turned and I was no longer the spineless little girl she’d always known. I forced myself to look stronger than I felt. She needed to understand that in order for this arrangement to work, things had to change. She had to respect me.
“It was... kind of you to get groceries. I’ll go rest now.” Mom’s lip quivered and I wondered for a minute if she might cry. Her shoulders hunched and she shuffled slowly down the hall to her bedroom and closed the door.
When she was gone, I expelled the breath I’d apparently been holding. That hadn’t gone at all as I’d expected. I’d anticipated an argument; I’d planned for one. I expected her to tell me this was her house and I had no right to barge in and tell her what to do. Instead, she retreated.
It was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. I knew it would take work, but if we had any chance of cohabitating, she had to understand that I was an adult, a woman, not a little girl she could push around. I grabbed a glass of ice water to quench my parched throat, and began to put away the groceries while I contemplated what to make for dinner.
