Page 17 of Back for More
I run my finger across the framed photo of me with my mother. I love this picture of us in the garden. I took another print of it with me. My father captured it on Mother’s Day. I was seven, and it had never occurred to me that there would ever be a day when my mother wouldn’t be around to laugh and smile at me and understand me in ways that no one else ever would.
I make a mental note to visit her grave before work tomorrow.
One of the things I felt most guilty about, over the past five years, was that I wasn’t here to bring flowers to her grave on a regular basis. I’m quite certain my father doesn’t do it. Not because he doesn’t miss her but because he misses her too much.
Vicky tells me that my dad will be home and dinner will be served in less than half an hour. I go down to the backyard to check out what’s in bloom. I’d forgotten that it gets dark later up here. After three years in LA, it’s a luxury to see so much grass and so much green.
The azaleas and rhododendrons are in full bloom. So are the dogwoods, but I missed the crabapple and cherry and magnolias. The roses are coming out, but it’s too early for some of the lilies. Everything looks vibrant and neat but not manicured. Just the way my mother always liked it. Just the way Toby Carver has always kept it. It’s not as lush as I remember it, though. It seems…emptier.
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite Lily.”
I spin around to see a friendly face. He’s got a baseball cap on, as always, but his big dark eyes always somehow sparkle in a way that his son’s never do.
“Hi, Toby.” I instinctively step toward him for a hug. “It’s good to see you.”
He rubs my back in the paternal, reassuring way that my father never could. “Hey, little lady. I heard a rumor you’d be back.”
I nod and tuck my hair behind one ear. “Back for now, anyway. The garden looks good.”
He shrugs. “Keeping it in decent shape, anyway.”
“I, uh… I stopped by the Barnes Group earlier. You must be very proud of your son.”
He smiles, the skin around his eyes crinkling so beautifully, I could cry. “Proud as can be. So, you saw him?”
“Yeah, yeah, quickly. We just had a little chat… Did he tell you that I’ll be…”
He nods. “Interesting times. You okay with it?”
“Oh sure, yeah. Job’s a job, right?”
“Sure,” he says, but just like his son, he sees right through me. “Yeah.”
I look around. “Things have changed around here, huh?”
“Not as much as you’d think. We’ve all missed you.”
“That’s nice of you to say.”
“It’s true. Your dad, he’s just had me doing maintenance since you left. Upkeep. I’ve taken a few jobs with other residences around the neighborhood.”
“Good,” I say. “I’m glad you’re keeping busy.”
He gives me a side glance as he hikes up his jeans. “Every now and then, if there’s something big to do, something involving construction, Wes helps me out.”
“He does? Still?”
“The bigger projects, sure.”
Interesting.
“You know, I’ve always thought there should be a gazebo.” I point to an area near the lily garden. “Right there. That would be nice, don’t you think?”
“Oh yeah.” He nods and grins. “That’d be real nice. Great thing to have up by summer. A permanent structure, you mean?”
“Oh yes. I’ll talk to my dad about it.”
“You do that. Lemme know.”
