Page 14 of In Her Fears
She understood his reluctance to break her mother’s confidence, yet appreciated his concern enough to call her anyway.Zeke had been the catalyst for her mother’s recovery, turning her away from the liquor store counter one night when she’d been at her lowest.
“I can’t sell you this,” he’d told her, his own history of addiction giving him the clarity to recognize rock bottom when he saw it.Instead of a bottle, he’d given her a meeting time and location.And after some hesitation, she’d finally gone.
“Margaret has missed two meetings now,” Zeke had told her on the phone.“I’ve called, but she keeps making excuses.Something’s not right.”
Two meetings, Jenna thought.And Mom had never said anything.Jenna wondered—had she missed seeing trouble that was right in front of her?
Jenna had realized that the fragile peace her mother had found in sobriety was still new, still might shatter if handled too roughly.But she’d also thought that things were going along quite well.
Jenna turned onto Sycamore Lane, the street where she’d grown up, where her mother still lived alone in the house that once held their whole family.The neighborhood hadn’t changed much—same mature trees, same well-kept lawns, same sense of solid middle-class stability.But everything else had.Jenna’s father, Greg Graves, had died five years ago.Piper had been gone for twenty years.And Jenna’s mom, Margaret Graves, had slowly put herself back together, one day of sobriety at a time.
As Jenna pulled into the driveway, the garden caught her eye immediately.Bright zinnias and marigolds nodded in the late summer breeze alongside carefully staked tomato plants heavy with fruit.It was still well tended with the same care her mother had once given to her family.
That was the thing about sobriety, Jenna thought as she turned off the engine.It gave you back your passions, your routines, your self-respect.The garden wasn’t just plants; it was a visual representation of her mother’s recovery.Which made Zeke’s news all the more concerning.
She took a deep breath and exited the car, the late August heat immediately pressing against her skin like a damp cloth.As she approached the front door, she found herself cataloging details with a sheriff’s eye—windows intact, porch swept clean, mail collected from the box.No external signs of trouble.
Jenna knocked and waited, listening for movement inside.After a moment, the door swung open, and Mom stood before her, surprise evident in her raised eyebrows.
“Jenna!I wasn’t expecting you.”Her mother wore gardening clothes—faded jeans and a loose cotton blouse—with soil still under her fingernails.Her hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail, touches of gray more prominent than they’d been even six months ago.But her eyes were clear, her movements steady.No obvious signs of drinking.
“I was in the neighborhood,” Jenna said.“Thought I’d stop by,” the half-truth was uncomfortable on her tongue.
Mom stepped back, gesturing for Jenna to enter.“Come in, then.I was just about to make some iced tea.”
The house smelled of lemon furniture polish and fresh herbs from the potted plants on the kitchen windowsill.Another good sign.The days when this house had reeked of stale alcohol and neglect seemed mercifully distant now.
They moved to the kitchen together, Mom filling two glasses with ice and tea while Jenna settled at the familiar table where she’d eaten countless childhood meals.The normalcy of it all made her doubt Zeke’s concerns for a moment.Her mother seemed fine—better than fine.
“So,” Mom said, setting a glass in front of Jenna and taking the seat opposite her.“What brings the sheriff to my door on a workday?I’m guessing this isn’t just a social call.”
Jenna took a sip of tea, buying herself a moment.Direct questions had always been her mother’s style.No point dancing around it now.
“Are you still going to your meetings, Mom?”
The change was subtle but immediate—a slight stiffening of Mom’s shoulders, a flicker of her gaze away from Jenna’s face.
“I’m not drinking, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she said, tracing a finger through the condensation on her glass.
“That’s not what I asked.”
Mom sighed, setting her tea down with deliberate care.“I suppose Zeke called you.”
“He’s concerned.So am I.”Jenna leaned forward.“Mom, those meetings have been your lifeline.What’s going on?”
“Zeke shouldn’t have involved you,” Mom said, but there was no real heat in her words.“He’s just worried over nothing.”
“Is it nothing, though?Because skipping two meetings after going so faithfully sounds like something to me.And don’t get angry with Zeke for telling me.”
A look of resignation crossed Mom’s face.“I’m not angry with him, Jenna.Zeke’s a good man.He was trying to help, in his way.”She paused, idly turning her glass.“That’s actually part of the problem.”
“What do you mean?”
Mom took a breath, then met Jenna’s eyes directly.“I’ve developed...feelings for Zeke.Feelings that complicate our relationship as sponsor and sponsee.”
“Oh.”The single syllable was all Jenna could manage at first.Of all the explanations she’d prepared herself for on the drive over, this wasn’t one of them.
“So instead of causing trouble for both of us, I decided to step back from meetings.Just until I get my head straight about it all.”Mom’s voice was matter-of-fact, but Jenna could see the strain beneath her composed exterior.
