Page 81 of Sweet Escape
“Then you come back home to our family, and we move forward. For what it’s worth, she sounds like a woman who’s grieving.”
There's a far-off look in his eye, and I know he’s thinking about Jess. About loving her and losing her. That expression crushes me every time, not because I’m jealous of her, but because it hurts me to see him so tormented.
I can’t even begin to know the depths of his pain, but it’s etched in every line and feature of his face—in the crinkle of his brow and the frown lines around his eyes. This man knows real pain, and if I could take every stitch of it away, I would.
“Ok. I’ll go.”
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“No. I need to do this on my own.”
“Ok.” He pulls me against him and kisses my forehead, the move so familiar it no longer catches me by surprise. “If you need me, all you have to do is call and I’ll be there, ok?”
I nod. “Ok.”
I find my mom exactly where I knew she would be—in the garden, elbow deep in topsoil. “Hey, Mom.”
Her spine goes ramrod straight, and she pulls off her muddy gloves. “Hi, Livie.”
Not meeting my gaze, she gestures for me to follow her to the twin rocking chairs on the porch. She looks the same as always in her grass-stained overalls and her favorite straw hat, her grey hair pulled back in a ponytail at the nape of her neck. It’s a reminder of who she is and what she’s always been to me, and it gives me the courage to speak first.
“Why didn’t you support me?”
She sighs, her posture deflating. “I don’t know. Truly. I wasn’t the mom you needed that day, and I regret it more than you’ll ever know.”
“Then why didn’t you call sooner?” This is the longest we’ve ever gone without speaking, and not for lack of trying on my part. I’m not even mad about what happened anymore. I’m angry because I feel ignored and rejected by the family who’s supposed to love and support me.
“At first it was because I was hurt by what you said,” she says, her hands fidgeting nervously in her lap. “But then I realized how wrong I’d been, too, and I wasn’t ready to face you. As for your dad… well, I’ll let him speak for himself. I’m sorry, Livie. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
My jaw clenches, and I shake my head. “But you did, Mom. Did you ever even ask about me?”
She looks at me then, and her eyes are filled with anguish. “All the time, Liv. Grammy gave us updates about the pregnancy when she could. She tried to get us to reach out sooner. Please don’t blame her.”
“I would never. Grammy has always been there for me, which is more than I can say for you and Daddy right now.”
She nods jerkily. “You’re right. I deserve that.”
I twist the ring on my finger once, then twice. “Why don’t we ever talk about Ben?”
Her chin wobbles and her brows draw together, deepening the lines on her forehead. She looks more worn down than I’ve ever seen her, and it’s clear the last two months have taken a toll.
“It’s hard,” she murmurs, her voice filled with a quiet sorrow. “Grief is an ongoing journey. It doesn’t just disappear over time. Sure, it eases some, but it still manifests in different ways. It can often creep up on you when you least expect it. I think about him every day, but it’s easier to keep it all inside than to letit out and face the reality that he’s gone, and he was never really here.”
It’s the most she’s ever talked about what happened, and I feel like I’m able to connect with her on a deeper level as a daughter, but also as a mother. I long to know more, to learn everything I can from her experiences.
“Did you want to have more kids?” I ask.
“No. I loved you plenty, and I couldn’t stand the thought of something happening if we tried again.”
A solemn quiet settles between us as we stare out at the land I grew up on: the neat rows of flowers and the treehouse by the barn. So many fond memories live here, and I don’t want my child to miss out because I couldn’t make amends with my family.
Mom places her hand over mine, sensing my inner turmoil. “What’s on your mind, Liv?”
I consider her question, wondering how much I want to tell her. Mom’s always been my sounding board. “Wilder lost his wife. I see the misery in his eyes when he thinks I’m not looking, and I don’t know how to help him.”
“There isn’t anything I can tell you about loss that’ll make you fully understand what it does to a person. There aren’t really any words to describe what it’s like when a piece of your heart is just… gone. I wanted to scream and cry until he came back to me, and when I realized that wasn’t going to happen, I wanted to follow him.”
I suck in a sharp breath, her words settling like a stone in the pit of my stomach.
