“I’d love some.” I tapped the snow off my boots and toed them off by the door as I unzipped my jacket.
My mother was filling two mugs with coffee at the counter when I entered the kitchen. “Sit,” she said, gesturing toward the round table by the windows.
The view here was lovely. This little piece of property sat on one side of Stolen Hearts Valley. The Blue Ridge Mountains stretched in the distance, and the valley spilled out beyond the edge of the yard. The famed blue haze was shades of gray and silver today. Looking at the mountains also brought Alex to mind.
The stark, magnificent mountains in Alaska were just as beautiful as the Blue Ridge Mountains, yet they felt so different. Here, it felt as if you were cradled in the embrace of the rolling hills. In Alaska, the mountains stood tall and dark against the sky. As an almost otherworldly and massive presence, they were breathtaking in their ability to make you feel so utterly small and human.
I kicked thoughts of Alex to the curb in my mind. He wasn’t making it easy to forget him, though. He texted me every single day and also called every single night. I loved it and hated how much I loved it.
My mother sat down across from me, brushing her dark hair streaked with silver away from her eyes. We shared the same coloring. Her clear green eyes were as bright as ever. “How are things?” she asked as she passed over my mug of plain black coffee.
“Fine. Busy.” I took a sip, appreciating the rich flavor. “Good coffee,” I added as I lowered my mug to the table.
“You’ve been melancholy ever since you got back from Alaska,” she commented.
“I have?” I hedged.
My mother was too perceptive for my sanity. After a childhood of her being somewhat flighty and far too easy to cave to my father’s careless whims, my mother had settled down, and we were slowly trying to build something of a relationship.
She cocked her head to the side, tapping her index finger on the table lightly. “Yes, you have. What happened?”
“Really, Mom? Nothing. I had a good trip, and now it’s back to the grind. It was nice to have a break from work and school for two weeks. That’s all.” I was feeling defensive, and I knew it, but I didn’t feel like dwelling on what I couldn’t have. “Is Dad up?” I asked, knowing my mother wouldn’t appreciate the change of subject.
My mother shook her head. “No. And I’m sure you already thought so.”
I felt a pinch of guilt in my chest, a little burn right above my heart. Because I did know that. “Mom, why do you stay?” I whispered.
She took a swallow of her coffee and let out an almost imperceptible sigh when she set her mug back on the table. “I know your father hasn’t made your life easy. I regret many of the things that happened when you were a little girl.” She held my gaze with a level look across the table. “He’s sick now. Although maybe he doesn’t deserve it, I find I can’t simply abandon him now.”
My stomach felt hollow. “What do you mean, he’s sick?”
“We found out before your trip, but I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you not to go. I haven’t seen you for more than a few minutes since you got back. He has cancer, colon cancer. It’s pretty far along. Lord knows, your father was never one to go to the doctor. I wish I’d been able to give you more stability, but I was young and not so strong. I’m sorry.”
“Mom, you don’t need—” I began.
She shook her head sharply, and I went silent.
“I do need to apologize. You’re an amazing woman, and I am so proud of you. You’re taking care of yourself, you’re a hard worker, you’re putting yourself through nursing school on your own, but more than that, you’re a kind and generous person. Don’t think for a second I’m not incredibly proud of you. I also know you beat the odds. If it weren’t for my mother, your grandmother, things might not have turned out the way they did for you. Here we are now, and I do believe in doing the right thing. I pray every night about what to do. I find that I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t ease the last few months your father has.”
This was probably the single most honest conversation I’d ever had with my mother about what our life had been when I was growing up. I’d always loved my mother. I also loved my father, despite his tendency toward chronic alcoholism and careless words. Fortunately, he was mostly a harmless drunk.
The hollow feeling in my stomach intensified, and my pulse was running along at a shallow, unsteady beat. “Months?”
My mother nodded. “Yes. They gave him four to six months. It’s far enough along that they don’t recommend chemo. He doesn’t want chemo anyway. These days, he sleeps in because he’s tired and he feels sick, not because he’s hungover.”
My mother delivered that information, her eyes resigned and steely. I curled my hands around my coffee mug as if the warmth of it could anchor me somehow. I’d resented my father for years, and suddenly, my resentment went up in smoke.
“You’re doing the right thing,” I said, and I meant it.
I knew she was. My mother was such a loyal person, and she stood by her commitments. There were many times I wished she wasn’t, but her loyalty was an integral part of her personality.
“I know. I just hope you understand.”
“Of course I do.”
Reaching for her hand, I gave it a quick squeeze. Her lips curled in a weary smile. “He’s usually up for a few hours in the evenings. If you’d like to come by, that would be a good time to see him.”
“I have to work tonight, but I have Sunday night off.”
My mother nodded and took another swallow of her coffee, the sound loud in the quiet kitchen. I could hear the ticking of the clock above the stove and a crow calling outside in the trees, its call piercing in the cold winter day.
“Now let’s talk about something else,” my mother began. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned since I found out about your father’s diagnosis, it’s that it doesn’t help at all to dwell on it.”
“I met someone,” I said impulsively. I suppose my mother’s blunt honesty had inspired me although I surprised myself by offering that up.
A small smile teased at the corners of my mother’s lips. “Really?”
“His name is Alex, and he lives in Alaska. It’s kind of crazy, but you remember that summer I went to camp in Colorado?”
“Of course I do. You loved it. You were so upset we didn’t have a forwarding address for the mail. What does this have to do with Alex in Alaska?”
“If you can believe it, I met him at that camp. I figured I’d never see him again. I had a fit about not having a forwarding address because I gave him our address for a letter. If you’re wondering, he says he wrote one. Anyway, I got stuck in the snow, and he happened to be the person who stopped to help me.”
My mother’s brows hitched up. “And? Tell me more.”
So I told her about everything—except for the hot sex. I ended with, “And that’s that. I’m here, and he’s there, and that’s too far for any kind of reasonable long-distance relationship.”
My mother narrowed her eyes, and she leveled me with a look. “Don’t be ridiculous. Why don’t you go to Alaska? There’s nothing holding you here.”