Page 108 of All We Thought We Knew
In a matter of minutes, we were flying across the land.
• • •
I didn’t speak to Nash for three days.
Each time he entered the house, I ignored him and left the room. Dad noticed the tension between us but wisely didn’t get involved. I busied myself with putting up Christmas decorations and spending time with Mama, who mostly slept. When she did wake for brief periods, she was incoherent. I’d simply hold her hand and carry on a one-sided conversation about the farm, the horses, the weather, always avoiding topics that could send me to the floor.
Two days before Christmas, however, she slipped into a coma. Dr. Monahan was notified and immediately came out to the farm. After he examined Mama, he called Dad, me, and Nash into the living room. With a somber voice, he told us she most likely wouldn’t come out of the coma.
“Ava isn’t long for this world, I’m afraid.”
I stared at the floor, my jaw clenched, while Dad thanked the doctor for everything he’d done for Mama. After they walkedoutside, Nash and I sat in silence. Floorboards above us creaked as the nurse moved around upstairs. Sunshine streamed through the curtain. Life carried on, no matter that Mama’s was ebbing away.
“I’m sorry, Mattie,” Nash said softly. “I love your mom. She’s always treated me like a son.”
The crack in his voice was my undoing.
My vision blurred, and my annoyance with him fell away. “What will I do without her?” Sobs overtook me.
He stood, pulled me to my feet, and let me weep into his chest. His shoulders shook, and I knew he wept too.
Dad returned, and the three of us sat in the living room, stunned and heartbroken.
“I’ll go into town tomorrow morning and make the arrangements,” he said, his face ashen. “Pastor Arnold offered to help.”
I knew planning Mama’s funeral would be a heart-wrenching task. “Do you want me to go with you?”
He shook his head. “One of us should be here.” He heaved a sigh and stood. “I think I’ll go sit with her a while.”
I watched as he left the room, his face drawn and his shoulders bent under the weight of grief. The nurse came downstairs, book in hand, and sat at the kitchen table to read. Nash suggested we put on our coats and move to the porch swing.
After we settled, he sent the bench into motion with his foot, the same way Mark used to do when we sat beside each other. My feet didn’t quite reach the porch floor, so I’d let him do all the work.
“I should have told you about Paula,” Nash said. When I turned to him, he held my gaze. “I’m not interested in her, Mattie. It was just nice to talk to someone who’d loved Mark as much as I did.”
I couldn’t find fault with that. “I shouldn’t have gotten so angry. It isn’t any of my business who you date.”
He reached to caress my cheek. “I want it to be your business.”
I captured his hand and held it to my face. “I can’t make any promises, Nash,” I whispered. “Things are so...” Tears flooded my eyes.
He nodded. “I know. I’m not asking for any promises... yet.”
He kissed me then. His lips on mine, warm and gentle. When he pulled away, there were tears in his eyes too.
“Stay here,” he said as he stood. “I have an early Christmas present for you.”
He walked across the yard to the cottage. When he returned, he carried a large, flat parcel, wrapped in plain brown paper.
“I know Christmas presents aren’t important this year, but I already had this ready for you.”
He held it while I tore off the paper.
I gasped. “The painting.”
His head tilted. “Did you go snooping in the cottage and see this already?”
I gave a slight chuckle. “I wasn’t snooping. Mama sent me to find a photo album that belonged to Granny. I saw this in the corner, but you hadn’t finished it yet.” I studied the image of a horse and a little dark-headed girl, their noses touching. “This is amazing, Nash.”
