“Good afternoon, Evie. I’m here to order a book, if possible. My favorite author only releases one book a year and I always ordered it from Penny.”
“Of course.” I turned to the store’s laptop and pulled up the distribution database. “What’s the name and title?”
She told me and I found the book and processed the order.
“Shall I just pay when it comes in?”
“Yeah.” I looked up from the screen. “I haven’t heard of her. What kind of books does she write?”
Maggie smiled. “Mystery. She’s like a modern Agatha Christie.”
“Cool. Are you a big reader?”
“The gallery can get quiet, so it’s nice to have a book under the counter.” She gestured around the room. “You have your pick of them.”
“I do. I’m kind of living my dream right now.”
“You love books like I love art.” She leaned against the counter. “Where does it come from, Evie? That passion?”
No one had asked me that. Not even Roane. The answer was a deep pang in my chest. “I . . . uh . . . my dad died when I was eight . . .”
Maggie’s face fell. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“Thank you. It was difficult and, um, my mom fell apart, and books were my solace. My escape.” Suddenly realizing the correlation between my relationship with my mother and Annie’s, I wondered how much I should reveal. Not a lot of people knew about my relationship with my mother, but Maggie and my mom had something in common. They’d both let down their daughters in a big way. But they also weren’t bad people. Not at all.
“My mom’s a recovering alcoholic. In and out of rehab for most of my life. She’s not a bad person,” I hurried to explain. “The very opposite, in fact. But she’s disappointed and hurt me a lot over the years.”
Tears shimmered in Maggie’s eyes as she pressed away from the counter, and I knew those tears weren’t for me. They were for her and Annie.
“Despite all that she’s done to me, how many times she’s broken my heart, I can’t stop loving her.” It was the truth. I loved my mom. I always would. “But this time it’s been harder for me to forgive her. I didn’t think I even would but she . . . she left me a voice mail that surprised me. And I think . . . I mean, I know, that I do forgive her. I think I’ll always forgive her.” My eyes stung as I watched a tear roll down Maggie’s cheek. “She’s my mom, you know.” I walked around the counter and took hold of Maggie’s hand. “You’re her mom, Maggie.”
Her eyes widened and her mouth trembled. “But . . . but it’s different. I turned my back on her. How could she ever forgive me for that?”
“Did you turn your back on her because you stopped loving her?”
“No!” She wrenched her hand from mine and crossed her arms over her waist, huddling into herself. “No,” she whispered. “I . . . I let him make the choice for me.”
“Your husband.”
Maggie nodded. “I know no one should speak badly of the unwell, but my husband . . . it wasn’t a happy marriage. He’s very ill now. I have a full-time care worker who looks after him and he’s unable to communicate because of the stroke . . . and the sad thing is, it’s the most free I’ve ever felt since I was girl.” Her eyes rounded with horror. “I shouldn’t have—”
“Shush.” I gripped her elbows. “No judgment here. Nothing you say to me will ever leave this room.”
She swallowed hard. “I’ve wanted to make amends with Annie for years, but I was afraid of him, and then when he got ill, I realized I was more afraid that Annie wouldn’t forgive me.”
I contemplated Maggie’s situation for a moment, trying to organize my thoughts. Finally, I said, “I assume Annie is well aware of the state of your marriage?”
“Aye. Before she came out to us, when she was still a part of our lives, she defended me a lot to him. I need her forgiveness for that too. She was my protector when I was never hers.”
“But understanding what you were dealing with, perhaps Annie will be more willing to forgive you than you expect. It’s your silence that hurts. I can’t tell you if Annie will forgive you, but I can tell you that if you don’t try and ask her for that forgiveness, she can’t give it to you. Be brave and at least you’ll know, one way or the other. Don’t let yourself regret not doing anything.” I squeezed her arms.
Maggie sighed wearily and gave me a sad but affectionate smile. “You’re a sweet, sweet girl. But I just don’t know if I have that in me.” She pulled away and left the shop before I could reply.
I stared after her, slightly shocked she’d confided in me. Neither of us had expected such an intense moment in our short encounter. I felt melancholy for Maggie and Annie, and I really hoped Maggie found the strength to do what was right.
Yet I also felt a weight lifting off my shoulders.
When I returned to the States, the first thing I would do was meet with my mom and tell her that although she’d hurt me over the years, I knew she was a good person, that I would always love her, and I would always forgive her.
She was my mom.
* * *
• • •
Although I kept to my promise and didn’t tell anyone about the words Maggie and I exchanged, I did tell Roane that she’d confided in me. He, unlike me, was unsurprised.
“How does it not surprise you? The woman opened up to me: a passing acquaintance. I mean, I told her a little about Mom, but I hadn’t expected the reaction I got,” I’d said as I relayed the encounter to him hours later.
“People sense your kindness and they trust you for it, Evie. They tell you things.” He’d cuddled me close on the sofa. “And I’m glad you feel better about your mum.”
“Thanks.” I snuggled deeper into him. “There’s a lot to forgive, though.”
“She can’t help her addiction,” he reminded me gently.
“True. But it’s how it made her act. Selfish and deceitful. I can’t abide liars because of her. She used to hide her drinking from me and lie about it. She even stole money out of my wallet to buy gin and lied about that too. And then there was how she missed important moments in my life because she was passed out on a bathroom floor somewhere.” I’d sighed, frustrated with myself for getting upset all over again. “I have to let it go. I’m starting fresh with her. It’s a risk I’m willing to take again.”
Roane had been extremely quiet after that, and I realized as we went to bed that I’d spoken of returning to Chicago to have the conversation with my mother. However, I hadn’t specified whether the trip would be one-way or not.