Page 101 of Going Deep
“Hmmm.” Geraldine sat at the round table tucked under the window. “How’s the packing going?”
“Good. I’ve got a lot of stuff I’m not taking, so I thought I’d give Georgie and Ginny first pick of anything they want before I haul it to Goodwill.”
Geraldine sipped her coffee. “I’m sure they’ll find something to fight over.”
Ginger laughed. Her sisters, ages seventeen and fourteen, were at each other’s throats more often than not. “Sorry.”
Geraldine waved a hand. “Oh, I’m used to it. You and Grace were the same at that age.”
Ginger snorted. “That’s because she was a brat.”
Geraldine’s eyes laughed over her coffee cup. “I’m sure she’d say the same thing about you.”
Ginger moved to the peg by the door and took down her purse. “I was hoping I’d have time to see her before I head back. She’s got to be getting pretty big by now.”
“To hear her tell it, she’s as big as a house and couldn’t possibly get any bigger. I didn’t have the heart to tell her she was wrong.”
Ginger shook her head. “She’s only seven months along. You don’t think she knows there’s more coming?”
“I think she’s convinced herself there isn’t.” Geraldine’s lips quirked into a smile. “Denial is an essential skill of motherhood.”
Ginger snorted out a laugh. “Do you want anything while I’m out?”
“I want you to tell me what’s made you sad, Ginger-bread.”
The childhood nickname made Ginger’s throat thicken with unexpected tears. “I’m fine, Mama. Nothing to worry about.”
“Worry is another essential skill of motherhood,” Geraldine said and rose to her feet. She crossed the small kitchen to wrap her arms around her daughter. “Baby. I know your heart is broken.”
Ginger closed her eyes and breathed in her mother’s scent. Lemon balm and rosemary. “How do you know?”
“Essential skills of motherhood.” Geraldine rubbed her cheek against Ginger’s in a familiar gesture of comfort. “Did he hurt you?”
Ginger had to work to speak around the lump in her throat. “Yeah, he did.”
“Well.” Geraldine squeezed hard. “Fuck him.”
Ginger sputtered, laughter spilling out along with the tears. “Thanks, Mama.”
“You’re welcome.” Geraldine pulled back to brush at Ginger’s wet cheeks, then dropped her hands. “Well, I better finish my breakfast if I don’t want to be late for work.”
Ginger stepped back as her mother resumed her seat at the table. “And I better get going if I’m going to get my latte and scone before Jake gets here to help me take down the bed.”
She stepped to the back door, then paused, glancing over her shoulder. “Mama?”
Geraldine paused, fork in hand, brow quirked in question.
“I love you.” Ginger flushed at the surprise on her mother’s face. “I don’t say that to you enough.”
Pleasure pinked Geraldine’s cheeks and sparkled in her eyes. “I’m always happy to hear it. But don’t think I’m forgiving you for leaving me.”
Ginger laughed at the teasing tone. “I wouldn’t dream of it. If you have to leave before I get back, I’ve got my key.”
She let the screen door slam behind her and headed down the sidewalk for the three-block walk to the local coffeehouse. She ordered her latte, nibbled on the scone while she waited for it, and checked her phone. She responded to a text message from her sister Grace and sent another off to Anna and Lola. She’d promised her friends she’d text them at least once a day to let them know how she was doing. Their return texts were cheerful and innocuous, the three of them avoiding the elephant in the room by mutual agreement.
Not that she needed reminders to think of Michael. The damn man was in her dreams every night, and she woke up missing him.
She wondered how long it would take for that to stop.
