Page 81 of Little Shattered Dreams

“Before you were born, your mother owned a flower shop, and she went by a different name. Brynn. What do you know about that?”

“Not much. I doubt she would have mentioned it to me except I found an old driver’s license of hers inside a zippered compartment of a suitcase she hadn’t used in years. I asked her about it, and all she said was she never liked the name Brynn, so when she married my dad, she changed it.”

“Did it ever come up again?”

“Not with her, but while I was living with my dad, I asked him.”

“What did he say?”

“He told me some things are better left in the past. I’ve always known something happened to my mom before I was born, something bad. Her bouts of depression were hard, and even though my dad tried to be patient with her, it upset him that she didn’t try harder to move on. Maybe if she had, they would have stayed married.”

I thought about telling her what I had learned about her mother’s car accident and about the boy. She deserved to know. But maybe tonight wasn’t the right time.

“The night your mother died, she was thinking of leaving the retreat and heading home,” I said. “She’d even called a friend to come pick her up, but in the end, she decided to stay. Do you know what changed her mind?”

There was another pause, a pause that lasted so long, it made me question whether she was still on the line, even though I had no reason to believe she’d disconnected.

“Faith, you still there?” I asked.

More sniffling sounds and then, “Yeah, I know why she wanted to leave. It was all my fault.”

“What was your fault?”

“It was my fault she wanted to leave. She came to talk to me that night, and I know that I should have listened to what she had to say, but I was so drained already from our first couple of days together, I didn't know how much more of her emotions I could take. I shut her down before she could get much out. I felt awful about it. I’d promised to be there for her, to help her through it all, and I wasn’t. I didn’t know she was going to be so hard to handle—or that confronting the past would consume her like it did. I didn't know how to deal with it.”

“I’m sure you tried your best.”

“I wish I could take it back, could have listened to her, and been there when she needed me.”

I wanted to reach through the phone and hug her. It was clear she needed it.

“Your mother wouldn’t want you to feel this way,” I said.

“It’s just hard, you know? You never think when you lash out at someone that it’s going to be the last time you ever see them. That morning when I knocked at her door, ready to go on our morning walk, I was in a better headspace. I wanted to make everything right. I had no idea I’d never get the chance.”

She began to weep.

She was no killer.

She just wasn’t.

I gave her a moment and tried to think about what I could say to bring her comfort. “Your mother would want you to be happy, Faith. She’d want you to live your best life and find the happiness that she never could. If there’s one thing you can do for her now, it would be to remember the good things, the fond memories you have that you can pass on to your child. I believe she’d want that for you both.”

“I'll try. It’s just sad, you know? She drove me crazy at times, but I miss her. I miss her so much.”

I thought of my relationship with my own mother. If I could describe the dynamic between us, I guess it was like a rubber band. Even when I distanced myself a little bit, I always felt myself snapping back, wanting her approval and her affection, even though it was hard to admit. If there was a lesson for me to learn from all this, it was to appreciate the role my mother played in my life, and to be grateful she was here. Not everyone had that.

“I’d better run, Faith,” I said. “I’m so glad you called.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Before I go, I was wondering what you could tell me about Jane. What kind of friend was she to your mother? When did they meet?”

“Jane’s a good friend, someone my mom could lean on. She’s always been there for her. Why do you ask?”

“I’d like to speak with Jane,” I said. “Do you have her phone number?”

“I do, just a second.” There was a pause and then she returned to the line giving me Jane’s details. We said our goodbyes, and as soon as I ended the call, I looked up and saw Calvin heading my way. His arms were crossed, eyes inquisitive, like he wondered what I was doing on his doorstep.

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