Page 49 of Before the Storm

Josie laughed. “I was, what? Thirty-seven? Thirty-eight? And Joe was in his late forties. Maybe he thought he wanted more children. But when more and more drama came to light with Violet and Leah, Joe looked at me and said, ‘I just can’t do it again.’ He looked exhausted. I understood. I told myself my relationships with my stepdaughters would be enough.”

Tara looked down at her hands. “I’m so sorry that happened.”

“It’s okay. It’s life.” Josie pressed her lips together. “I was never meant to be a mother.”

“You were a mother to Winnie,” Tara reminded her.

Josie closed her eyes and pictured little Winnie—running down the beach as her hair whipped out behind her, screaming with the seagulls.

“We had some good years,” Josie admitted.

Tara raised her shoulders. “You should reach out to her if you want to. I’m sure she’d be happy to hear from you.”

“You’re the one she’s been reaching out to,” Josie reminded her. “Not me.”

“But you said it yourself. It’s a time of forgiveness. Of honesty,” Tara said.

Josie sat in silence for a moment, thinking about the incredible release at the end of this horrific cancer journey. She imagined it like a dark and foggy field. She imagined it like perfect silence.

But then a horrible fear sliced through that imagined silence.I’ll never see Winnie again.

Josie’s love for Winnie still echoed in her heart.

Back in 2016, she should have called Winnie back. She should have convinced her not to move in with her father. She should have reminded her of how much Tara loved her.

Maybe she could have said,Your father is a loser. He’s just trying to get back at your mother for kicking him out.

Maybe it wasn’t even true. Perhaps Donnie really was “healed.” Maybe he was a fine, upstanding member of society.

But Josie hadn’t had the strength to help Winnie or Tara or anyone else but Joe, Violet, and Leah. She’d felt so spread out and stretched thin.

Tara took another haggard breath. “We have a lot of stuff to work out.”

Josie laughed gently. “One thing at a time, I guess?”

“Seattle first,” Tara agreed.

“What are we going to say to Mom?” Josie breathed.

“I don’t know,” Tara said. “This could go so many different directions.”

“Maybe she’ll throw us out of the wake.”

Tara cackled, and tears ran down her cheeks. “Sometimes I don’t know how to carry the weight of all these stories.”

Josie squeezed her arm. “I’m here to carry them with you.”

Tara’s eyes echoed with fatigue and fear. They seemed to ask Josie,But how much longer will you be here?

The plane dinged, and the pilot announced there would be food and more drinks available, that they were thousands and thousands of feet into the air. Josie had read once that it was far easier to cry in airplanes. People did it all the time. She reckoned it had something to do with your body’s fear. You had no control this far up. You had to give it all over to the pilot and the plane's construction.

It suddenly felt obscene that people flew all over the world like this.

“We need food,” Tara insisted, sniffing and going through the menu. “You’re eating something, Josie.” She said it with authority, as a mother might.

Josie laughed and wiped tears from her cheeks. “Anything greasy and cheesy.”

Tara shot her a look. “Plus vegetables.”

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