Page 54 of 40 and (No Longer) Fighting It
But the moment was here, and it didn’t feel anything like Claire had imagined.
“Claire.”
Emotion she wished she could ignore had Claire’s heart speeding up. “What can I do for you, Mama?”
“I need to order a cake.”
It took a moment to pick her jaw up off the floor. “You need to what?”
The soft flutter of her mother’s laughter held no edge, though Claire searched for it. “I need to order a cake. My weekly ladies’ group is having a Labor Day celebration in a few weeks, and I want something special.”
“From me?”
“Of course from you.”
There was noof courseabout it. Those two little words broke through Claire’s shock. “Mama, you haven’t bought anything from me since the door to Gimme Sugar opened. Why now?”
The arch of Lanelle’s brow, as if she was surprised at Claire’s frankness, reminded Claire of the look she saw every day in the mirror. At least, for the past ten years or so, the years she’d spent examining herself, challenging herself, remaking herself. Becoming a woman who could finally speak her truth instead of fighting it.
She liked that woman, and wished her mother did as well. But we didn’t always get what we wanted, did we?
Lanelle glanced around and spotted the two barstools at the consulting table. She nodded toward them. “Can we have a seat?”
“I guess so.” While her mother moved away, Claire retreated into the kitchen and asked Layla, who’d been working on a new cupcake order, to cover the store. By the time she joined her mother, Lanelle was poring over a book of cake offerings.
“These are so creative, Claire.”
Claire nodded, but she couldn’t take the stiffness out of her shoulders as she waited for her mother’s next words.
Lanelle closed the book, turned to Claire, and cleared her throat. “I came here to tell you I realized something very important on Sunday.”
So they had been there. The tightness in Claire’s spine grew even more.
“I realized that I had been doing a disservice to an intelligent, courageous woman that I was still treating like a child.”
Surprise jolted the starch straight out of Claire’s spine, leaving her sagging. “What?”
“It’s true.” Her mother took her hand, seeming to consider her next words. “I helped raise a smart little girl, but she wasn’t a little girl anymore, and I was refusing to see it. I was treating you like someone who couldn’t—or maybeshouldn’tis the correct word—make their own decisions. Like a rebellious teenager, not…” Lanelle dropped her gaze, focusing on their joined hands, but Claire swore she saw the glistening of tears. “Sometimes we get so stuck in the vision we had for our lives that, when it changes, we become stubborn. And we end up hurting the people we love most. You’re right; I didn’t stand by you when I should have. What Jared did was wrong, and though I still firmly believe we are called to forgive, that doesn’t mean that we forget.” She squared her shoulders and met Claire’s eyes. “I did. I forgot that you are more important than anything, including a vision of your life that simply wasn’t possible.
“I blamed you for not having children. For divorcing. And I was wrong. I’ve been wrong for years. I was trying to force my own will on you, and maybe on God, wanting him to correct all the ways your life didn’t go asI’dplanned. But it’s not my life, and some things are out of our control.” She squeezed Claire’s hand. “I started to see that truth when you pushed me away last week, but it took seeing you Sunday, up on that stage, standing up for yourself and your life, to truly open my eyes.” A single tear trickled down her cheek. “I don’t want to lose my wonderful daughter over my own willfulness. I’m sorry, love. Is there any way you can forgive me?”
Tears gathered in Claire’s eyes then too. Her mother saw the world through a framework Claire could no longer share, but now that perspective seemed to be softening, allowing for things no one could control or make sense of. There might still be things they could not agree on, but her mother was trying. And that, Claire could accept.
“I do forgive you, Mama.”
A relieved smile and sagging shoulders told her exactly how much her mother had hoped for those words. Reaching over, she did the one thing she’d longed for in the years since her divorce—she hugged her mother.
“Claire! Claire!”
Maria’s urgent call broke the moment. “Well whatever could that be about?” Lanelle asked, drawing away.
Claire wondered the same thing. Standing up, she saw Maria in the doorway between Gimme Sugar and Wildwoods Brew. “What is it, Maria?”
“Come here! You’ve got to see this.”
“See what?”
“Just come,” Maria said, waving her hand impatiently.
