Page 38 of Moonlit Thorns

The change in his expression tells me all I need to know. “She’s upstairs in bed.”

Disappointment threatens to crush me. “She had a bad week?”

He nods. “Yeah, hasn’t been out of bed since Monday.”

My shoulders sag. “What happened? What changed?” That little sprig of hope that had begun to grow inside me has just been plucked out of the ground.

He shrugs then brings his beer to his lips and takes a pull. “Don’t know. Nothing as far as I can tell.”

“I’m going to go see her.” I turn to leave the kitchen.

“She won’t even know you’re there, Belle. Save yourself the grief.”

I look at him over my shoulder. “I have to at least try.”

He doesn’t say anything.

Making my way through the house, I head upstairs to her bedroom and knock gently on the closed door. When there’s no answer, I push it open slowly, and I’m greeted by a dark room. I walk in and turn on a couple of the lamps so at least I’ll be able to see her face when I speak to her.

Everything in here is the same as it was months ago when my father died. His expensive watch that he’d wear to social events sits on the highboy dresser, the faint scent of his cologne still in the air. His robe hangs on a hook by the closet, and their wedding picture, taken so many years ago, still adorns his bedside table.

“Mom?”

Her back is to me, so I can’t tell if she’s asleep, but she doesn’t react to me saying her name. When I round the end of the bed so I can see her face, I realize she’s not asleep. She’s just curled up on her side, staring aimlessly out the window.

“Mom, it’s Anabelle.” I sit on the edge of the bed and take her hand.

She doesn’t react.

With a sigh, I use my free hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. “Mom, you have to get out of bed. You can’t spend all your time here.”

I need my mom, I want to cry out! She always gives such good advice, and it’s been a shit week. I could use her support tonight. Unshed tears sting my eyes as I look at the woman who is a shell of her former self. Her hair is dull and lifeless, she’s lost weight, and she’s almost catatonic at times.

I squeeze her hand. “Mom, we need you. Please…” My voice breaks.

She doesn’t move her head. Her gaze flicks in my direction, but there’s no recognition.

Still, it’s something. I have to try again. “We love you, and we need you. There’s so much going on with me, with the estate. I need my mother. Please.”

I feel like a little girl again. I’m desperate for her comfort, for anyone’s comfort. I’ve never felt so alone in all my life.

She just stares at me, unseeing almost, with no reaction to my words.

“We’re all grieving the loss of Dad, and I know you miss him terribly, but he wouldn’t want to see you this way.”

At the mention of my father, she rolls over, giving me her back. My chest tightens, and a sob racks through my body before I can pull it back in. It feels like the ultimate betrayal, as though she’s turning her back on her own daughter, and it takes me a moment to control my reaction. I breathe slowly in through my nose and out through my mouth until I have myself together enough to leave the room.

“I’ll see you next weekend, Momma. Love you.”

She doesn’t say anything, not that I expected her to. I turn off all the lights I turned on and leave the room, closing the door behind me.

Luke’s on the porch, working on another beer.

“Has the doctor been by to see her?” I sit next to him.

“He was here a couple of days ago. Said there’s not much more he can do for her. Suggested that we might want to think about sending her somewhere for more specialized help.”

I whip my head in his direction, my mouth hanging open. “Are you serious?”

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