Page 107 of Season of Gifts

Fuck.

Alice had done the same to Henry.She’d thought giving him space, not distracting him, would help.Maybe it would have, if his mother’s heart attack was the only factor.But the now-time events were the tip of an ancient iceberg.If she and Jay had been here to see Henry cracking under the strain, things wouldn’t have gotten so bad.

“No, Robert buried himself in work.Henry’s brother refused to go; he was twelve, and being away from his friends all summer seemed a punishment for a crime that wasn’t his.”Mother sighed deeply, closing her eyes as she did.“I took Henry with me, and Lina, and I wept my neediness and sorrow into the ocean, and I refilled myself from their love.I let go of what I could never have and held fast to what I did have.”

She’d done the thing Dad couldn’t, or wouldn’t.He was killing himself too, just more slowly.And slicing his family to ribbons in his fury and desperation.“You found yourself again.”

Mother’s lilting hum of agreement matched Henry’s, only an octave higher.“But our choices always have echoes.”She clutched Alice, her fingers tightening, the tendons stark lines down the back of her hand.“I kept Henry close for months.Years.Sending him to boarding school was excruciating for me.His father and I fought about it.Henry called me every night.Eleven years old, and he was taking care of me.”

Will had told that story from the other side.How self-possessed and certain Henry had been despite the teasing from the older boys.Because Henry couldn’t compromise on the things his loved ones needed, even if he suffered for it.

“And now…” Her thirty-nine-year-old husband had slept in a chair night after night because a seven-year-old boy was terrified.All the times he’d declined Alice and Jay’s help with his mother hadn’t been about them.“He’s afraid of what might happen every time he leaves you alone.”

“Yes.”Mother sagged, her head bowed, silver hair gliding forward and shielding her face.“He fears I’m dying, but not only that.He’s afraid I will lose hope and try to leave him again.He’s afraid that he’ll be here to see it.And he’s afraid that he won’t.”

That knotted tangle demanded more than brute-force logic to shake loose.Henry needed their love and understanding.He needed to learn he could depend on them as they depended on him.

“But you never—” Trust her brain to zero in on the most awkward question.But she couldn’t assume the answer.Henry would blame himself if anything happened to his mother.“You never, um, felt…”

Mother lifted her head.Henry’s wisdom and compassion flowed from her eyes.The two of them had earned it together.

Alice swallowed hard.“That things were that bad again?You don’t feel hopeless now?”

“Never again.”Eyes level, voice firm, Mother regained some of her grand presence.“That summer changed me.Henry changed me.It was that summer I knew he had my artistic talent—that he would surpass me.And he has.He has.”A choked-off sob shattered her put-together posture.“But his sketches weren’t all of boats and tidepools.He drew me slumped on the floor….”

Renewed tears raced down Mother’s face.Alice wrapped her tight in her arms and tried to smooth the shudders coursing through Mother’s back.She crooned nonsense syllables, instinctive noises from watching Mom soothe Ollie when she was a baby.Her memories did that, followed patterns and structural lines.But Henry lived his life in images, in vibrant colors and emotions.The memory of his mother on the floor might be as vivid to him now as it had been all those years ago, regardless of whatever therapy he’d done in between.

Mother’s cleansing breath washed across Alice’s neck before she restored herself, her back straight and her gaze clear.“I choose to live all the days I’m given and to pack as much living into them as I am able, Alice.”A smile creased her face, scattering joy lines around her lips and eyes.“I want to see both of my sons happy, with children of their own.”With one pointed finger, Mother poked Alice’s collarbone—not entirely gently.“And that is on a timeline ofyourchoosing, darling girl, and not a decision to make lightly, so please don’t take the weight of my expectations upon your shoulders.”

Henry wanted children, maybe more than she’d realized, but he’d never pressured her.And Jay, Jay who was an amazing uncle, would be a fantastic father.But they all had shit to work through first, even Henry.“We’ve talked about it.Someday.”

“Someday.”Mother kissed her cheek.“What I don’t want…” Mother rubbed her thumb across the spot she’d kissed, even though she had no lip gloss on to leave behind.“Don’t let Henry go through this alone.Make him talk to you, even if it hurts him.Not facing it is hurting him more.Hurting all of us, I suspect.”

“Because the longer we wait, the worse the infection gets.”Henry had been wound like a spring for two weeks.Pretty soon that tension would snap—and she’d left Jay alone to help him relax.Without knowing anything about the causes.“I’m so sorry.”She leapt from the bed.How long had she—fifteen minutes.Twenty?“I think I need to—” She snatched up the handset for the monitor.“Jay is—”

“Go, go.”Mother shooed her out.“Good luck, darling.”

Tugging the door shut behind her, Alice stepped into the hall.

At the far end, Henry stormed toward her.Relaxeddidn’t remotely describe him.

Shit.

Chapter fifty-eight

Henry

Skincold,breathheaving,heartbeat frantic, Henry rushed down the hall.Mother could be breathing her last.Alice could be performing CPR.Anything might be occurring behind the closed doors so far off, so many strides yet—

The door cracked open, and Alice slipped out, sharply shutting it behind her.Eyes wide, she stared at him.Her mouth parted.

He should’ve been faster.Shouldn’t have wasted so much time, shouldn’t have waited at all.

Alice rushed toward him and pressed her hands to his chest.“Henry.Henry, stop, breathe, please.”

He stopped only to avoid running her down.“I must check—”

“She’s fine, I promise.She’s resting.If you go in like this, you’ll make her worry about you.”

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