Page 120 of Passed Ball

"After Erica died all you wanted was to be with Tenley." She sniffles.

I know this hurts her but I can't hold back now that I've started. Years of frustration and pain bubble out. "That might be true, I never asked for what came after. Anytime I wasn't at school I was watching Tenley, Cade, the twins. Then Luca and Levi had their boys and any hope of breaking free was gone. It became expected. I'd walk in the door and a baby would be dropped in my arms."

"That's . . . It's not true."

"Remember when I wanted to join the school newspaper?" I ask.

She squints like she has to think about it.

"The club met after school. When I brought it up you frowned and made a comment about not having anyone to get the twins off the bus so you could open the tasting room. They weren't my kids. Maybe I'm being a brat, but I just wantedonething that was mine."

Her eyes widen, but I'm not done. "So I tried again a few months later. I wanted to go to the summer camp Harlowe went to every year. But Luca and Levi didn't have anyone to watch their boys for the week and you couldn't close the tasting room to watch them because it was tourist season."

Her mouth opens like she wants to say something but I drive forward. The feeling of getting it out is cathartic. "I missed my senior prom because the buds were breaking and the shoots needed thinning. Even if I'd been able to go, Harlowe was the only person I was close with because all of my time was spent running a daycare. The only identity I had when I left here was caregiver. I was a teenager and I just wanted a little bit of normalcy."

My mom hangs her head. When she lifts it again, her eyes are brimming with tears. I almost take it all back--tell her to forget it and go back to pretending I'm a well-adjusted adult, when that couldn't be further from the truth.

"You were so good with Tenley--and with the others. You were thoughtful and responsible." She breathes, the first tear falling. "It made everything so much easier. We thought you wanted to help."

"Ididwant to help. This is not about being to entitled to contribute. But I didn't feel like anyone saw me as a kid with needs of my own. I was a commodity. Whenever someone needed something, they just came to me, they did ask . . . And I kept letting it happen because I didn't want to let the family down. The thing is, I was hurting. She was gone and was tasked with filling the space she left behind, but she was like a sister to me and that wound never healed because I never stopped to let it."

Her warm hand covers mine, pulling it into her lap. "I didn't mean for it to be like that. You were so strong, and we leaned on you--too much."

"Yeah. You did. And now? I've spent my entire adult life scared of getting close to anyone because I'm terrified of disappearing into their needs the way I did then."

A pained exhale leaves my mom, her hand tightening around mine. "I didn't know. I wish I would have seen it--stopped it." She looks up, realization striking her teary eyes. "Is that why you picked Maryland for school?"

I nodded. "I needed space to figure out who I was without all ofthis."

"And did you figure it out?" she asks.

"Yeah, I think I did."

"Thank you for telling me this, for letting me in." She takes my face in her hands. "My eyes are open now, Stellina, and I hope it's not too late."

I sniffle, feeling lighter than I have in years. "It's not."

"Are you going to talk to your dad and brothers?"

I bite my lip. Having this conversation with my mom is one thing. Having it with Leo, who never moved on from losing Erica, is another thing entirely. "Do you think they would want to know?"

She brushes a piece of hair from my face, tenderly tucking it behind my ear and cupping my face. "Yes, they would.Allof them would want to know. You've been distant even when you're here. They miss their sister. Just like I miss my daughter."

I lay my head on her shoulder and we sit like that, watching the stars twinkle and sipping our wine in silence. It's healing.

Some time later, the door swings open and Harlowe steps out on the porch with a bottle of wine and an empty glass of her own. "Can I join you?"

My mom yawns, stretching out her legs before standing. "I actually need to get to bed. HarvestFest might be my favorite two days of the year, but boy does it tucker me out." She gives my hand a tight squeeze before she stands.

At the threshold she looks over her shoulder, grinning at how Harlowe's taken her spot and my head is in her lap as she plays with my hair.

"Goodnight, girls. Love you both."

"Night, Mrs. Cardoza," Harlowe says.

"Love you, Mom," I say, my voice carrying a tenderness I haven't felt in a while.

The door clicks shut behind her, leaving the rhythmic hum of the vineyard around us.

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