Page 53 of Meet Me in the Valley
“I was thinking I could move back home? Just to help you and Dad. I can cook, I can clean, I can run errands. I’ll be available any time you need me. I can?—”
“No. I won’t allow it,sayang. I’m still me,” she points at her chest with vigor. “I’m not gone yet. I don’t want you to stop your life because of me.” Her voice wavers, then in true Connie Young fashion, she steels herself, grabbing her plate and walking over to the dining table where my dad looks on with a tiredness in his eyes.
My mom sits in her chair, staring down at her food like she wants to chuck it across the kitchen. I take it as a signal to bringthe rest of dinner to the table, choosing to shut my mouth before I make things worse.
Once everything is in its place, I join my parents and make my plate in silence.
“So, sweetheart, are you taking some time off of work? I was surprised to know you were still in town. I thought you and Logan were leaving back to Austin together,” my dad asks as I refill his water glass in front of him, then my mom’s. I sit across from her, my eyes locking on the fourth empty chair at the table.
I had already thought about what I was going to tell them, since I’m keeping my bring-home-long-lost-sister mission a secret. Dad said that with Alzheimer’s patients, bringing forth new and overwhelming information can cause a whole load of stress.
I should’ve remembered that before I sprung on my mom that I wanted to move back home to help her.
Routine and familiarity are what my mom needs right now. I had a harrowing thought that bringing Nora back could actually do more damage than good, but you don’t need a doctor to diagnose a mother’s broken heart. If there’s anyone who can stop the bleeding, it’s Nora.
“I’ve been doing some administrative work from home this week, but I’ll be flying out to Vegas this weekend for a design convention. Roy is sending me to put out feelers, gain inspo, that sort of thing,” I share, crossing my index and middle finger behind my back to forgive the lie that easily slips from my tongue.
“That’s great, Nora,” Mom says.
I nearly choke on a piece of beef, coughing into my napkin as my eyes flick to Dad, silently pleading for backup. He clears his throat and gently squeezes her hand. Calm and steady, the way he always is with her.
There’s so much love in his eyes. I admire him more with each second that passes, watching how confident he is in caring for the woman who raised me.
“That’s Tia, honey,” he says softly. No drama, no sting. Just a gentle correction. Cool as ever.
The burn behind my eyes fades as quickly as it came, and I smile—bright and brave at my beautiful mother. Despite everything, she still remembers how to make my favorite meal, like I’m ten years old again.
“Of course. Sorry, Tia,sayang,” she says with a small laugh. “A common slip.”
“It’s okay, Mama,” I whisper, placing my hand over hers and giving it a tender pat. I smile wide enough to hide the ache sitting behind it.
The evening unfolds gently. We eat, we laugh, we reminisce. Mom shares parts about her week, like when she had a conversation with a neighbor about their rosebush on a recent walk, or how she and Dad ran into one of my old high school teachers at the diner one morning and gushed about how proud they were of me.
Listening to her recall things with such clarity brings me comfort tonight. If anything, it’s a gentle reminder for me to live and stay rooted in the moment. I can enjoy a meal with my family without letting the thoughts of everything that’s eating at me interfere and ruin the mood.
Now and then, my eyes drift to the empty chair beside me, the one that Nora
should be in.
In my mind, she’s there—present and glowing, adding her laughter to ours.
I trace Mama’s face with quiet reverence, committing every line to memory. The soft folds around her smile, the gentlethinning of her lips, her big chocolatey eyes still rich with life and overflowing with love.
It’s all the motivation I need.
One day soon, Nora will sit in that chair again.Her chair.We’ll eat, drink and laugh, and finally feel whole around this table once more.
One day soon, my family will heal.
Drive west past the Austin city limits and the stars become unreal. Untouched by light pollution, just bright burning flecks scattered across the sky.
But the stars in Oakwood Valley are unmatched. No contest.
The night is clear as I sit on the balcony of the Violet Inn. A tiny escape for me before I dive headfirst into a new adventure tomorrow. I’m calling it an adventure because I’m tired of feeling sorry for myself. I’m tired of all the crying and confusion.
Since having dinner with my parents earlier, all I care about is finding Nora and bringing her home.
I wrap the fleece blanket tighter around my shoulders, breathing in the cool, midnight air and the earthiness of packed soil. I love the smells here. I swear I can smell the fermentation of the grapes, but when you grow up in wine country, you’re convinced you smell wine everywhere you go. It’s like a muscle memory almost, something I find myself flexing when I come back home.
