Chapter

15

Mitch’s dad had passed away when Mitch was only eleven, and Margaret had raised Mitch and his younger brother, Charlie, all on her own. She never remarried, said she didn’t need to when she already had two of the most handsome men on the earth. She had been a wonderful mother-in-law, not the crazy, controlling type that I’d always heard stories about. My relationship with my own mother was always strained, and in Margaret I found a listening ear, a comforting touch, and a refusal to judge. She was the reason that Mitch was such an amazing husband and father.

When Mallory was four and I was expecting Jenna, Margaret decided to shovel her walks. Charlie was living out of state, and it seemed she didn’t want to take Mitch away from his family to come and take care of her, so she put on her boots and her gloves and crunched out into the snow. We got the call at eight the next morning. She’d collapsed in her driveway and wasn’t found until Mr. Caspar, the neighbor across the street, left for work the next morning. It had been a fairly mild heart attack, and she probably would not have died had it not been for the cold and the length of time she’d lain there.

Mitch was devastated. We both were, but he felt it was his fault. For the rest of his life he carried the burden of guilt for not shoveling her walks that morning so she wouldn’t have tried to do it herself.

Now, as I sat here in Corrie’s car with Sam in the driver’s seat staring at me, I could see Margaret’s silhouette behind the curtains as she moved about the living room. The lights were on inside against the gloom of the rainy morning, and Margaret moved from one end of the room to the other. It looked like she might be dusting.

“Are you going to go to the door?” Sam asked after about five minutes.

I nodded, but my hand didn’t reach for the door handle. Now that I was there I wondered what on earth I was possibly going to say. All of my attention had been focused on getting here. What now? Did I think I could really waltz up to his door and ask him to the dance?

“Do you want me to go with you?” Sam asked.

That got my attention. I turned to look at him, suddenly registering the fact that it was Sam who was sitting here with me.

“Sam, what on earth are you doing here? Why did you want to come, anyway?” I asked.

“You first,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“You first. Why did you come here?” he prodded. “To sit in the car and stare at that house? What’s your plan?”

“I wish I knew,” I sighed, hopefully too quietly for him to hear me, then I grasped the door handle and made a dash for it before I could think too long and talk myself out of it. The rain was really coming down, and I was drenched by the time I got to the cover of the front porch. I wondered if it was possible for a sixteen-year-old to have a heart attack. My chest felt too tight to breathe, but I raised my hand and rang the bell.

“One minute,” I heard Margaret’s muffled voice from inside and then footsteps. The door opened, and she was there. Her blue eyes, just like Mitch’s, were wrinkled at the corners with her smile, and she was so real, so alive, it took my breath away. Tears sprang to my eyes as it all came rushing in at me. I realized that she was speaking, and I suddenly snapped back to focus.

“I’m so sorry, what was that?” I asked.

“What can I do for you, dear?” she repeated in her kind voice. There was that hint of an Irish accent that I had so loved from our first meeting.

“Yes, um. Is Mitch here?” I asked, recalling my purpose for coming. I wanted to stare at her for hours, but I was here for something even more important. Someone even more precious to me.

“I’m sorry. He just left with his brother. They should be home later this evening. Is there something I can help you with, dear?” I could see the curiosity in her face, and I wondered what she must be thinking about a teenage girl looking for her twenty-three-year-old son. I saw it all, but disappointment was ripping through me with such power it threatened to buckle my legs underneath me. I took a long, slow breath in, telling myself that I would just have to try again. Margaret must have seen something in my look because she threw me a lifeline.

“Would you like to leave a message for him?” she asked. I nodded in relief.

“Yes, that would be perfect,” I said.

She excused herself to get a pen and paper. I glanced inside with longing, missing the elegant and old-fashioned living room with her collections of thimbles and spoons displayed in cases along the wall. The smell of her freshly baked cinnamon rolls poured out of the front door. Of course, with Mitch home after another year of absence, Margaret would be baking up a storm in celebration, the way she celebrated everything.

She returned and handed me a pen and notepad. I thought briefly about writing an explanation of who I was but immediately thought better of it. Instead I simply scrawled my parents’ phone number, my name, and the words “Please call tonight. It’s very important.” I folded the paper and wrote Mitch’s name on the front, and then handed everything back to Margaret. She took the items and placed them on the entryway table before turning back to me.

“I’ll make sure Mitch gets the note as soon as he and Charlie return.”

She waited for me to say something, but I just nodded. I knew I needed to walk away now, but I couldn’t turn my back on her yet. Without a word, I leaned forward and gave her a quick hug, breathing in her lavender scent. She slowly raised her arms and patted my back. To my horror, those stupid teenage emotions hit again, and a sob welled up and bubbled over. Margaret’s arms tightened around me, and she smoothed my hair. She was so familiar and comforting, and I couldn’t help myself. I clung to her for another long moment, allowing myself to share my pain with the one woman in the world who could possibly understand it. I knew she didn’t right now, but somewhere in the future, in heaven or whatever afterlife there was, Margaret would be the one who could really understand. She had lost her husband while her children were young, and she loved Mitch just as much as I did. I knew that much, and I shared it with her, then I forced myself to pull away and smile in embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry, Mar . . . I mean Mrs. Kelly. I don’t know what got into me.” I wiped at my face. Margaret was studying me.

“It’s no problem, dear. Being young is hard sometimes,” she said. I smiled.

“You can say that again,” I said, sniffing. “Please make sure Mitch gets that?” She nodded, and I waved and ran back toward the car. The rain was turning positively torrential, and I ducked inside the car gratefully. Sam was waiting for me. I had forgotten about him.

“Not there?” he asked.

“Nope. He left with Charlie just a few . . . wait! That blue truck!” I shouted.

“What blue truck?” Sam asked in surprise.

“The one you almost hit. That’s Charlie’s truck. I totally forgot about that thing. I think he got rid of it right after . . . never mind. I missed him.” My throat constricted as tears bubbled up behind my eyes.

“He was right there, and I didn’t see him because you were distracting me. If you had just left me alone, I would have gotten here in time, and I wouldn’t be sitting here with you.” My voice broke. I had been so close. “If it weren’t for you, I would be with him. RIGHT! NOW!” I yelled and cried at the same time. It was too much. All of the pain and the anticipation and the frustration came pouring out of me, and I collapsed in tears that left me unable to speak.