Page 14 of The Summer We Mended
That didn’t make sense.This was April, the start of the tourist trickle that would become a summer flood.Her mother’s pottery studio always thrived in the spring and summer.She could see her shutting everything up in October or November, but April?That wasn’t right.People came in looking for handmade mugs, vases, and wind chimes.Lily loved this time of year, always said it made her feel like the island was waking up again.
She reread the message, her thumb hovering over the screen.
She didn’t say anything.She’s just… in bed.
She hasn’t been herself since your dad passed.You know that.But this?It feels different.Like she’s completely given up, I think it’s a Godsend that you and the kids are here right now.Keep an eye on her, okay?
Anna slipped the phone into her pocket and turned toward the kitchen counter, rolling up the sleeves of her pajama top.She needed to do something.Anything.
The coffee beans were still in the same ceramic jar they’d always been in—a chipped teal container her mom had made herself decades ago.Anna ground a scoopful by hand, the whirr of the grinder echoing in the still kitchen.She measured the water, loaded the machine, and set it to brew.
As the smell of dark roast filled the space, it did something to Anna’s chest.A tightness, a tension, released just slightly.She busied herself and pulled eggs from the fridge, finding the old skillet that had cooked hundreds of Sunday breakfasts.Bacon.Toast.Her movements became automatic, a rhythm carved by years of watching her mother do the same.
She moved around the kitchen like she hadn’t been gone for years.It was like an easy rhythm in her own kitchen back in Colorado.
The sound of soft feet on the stairs made her glance up.Nora appeared in the doorway, her curls a mess, still rubbing sleep from her eyes.
“Is Grandma making breakfast?”she asked.
Anna wiped her hands on a dish towel.“Not today, honey.She’s not feeling well.But I’m on it.You want to help?”
Nora nodded eagerly and climbed up onto the old wooden stool by the counter.Blaze trailed in a moment later, already humming some song from yesterday, his pajamas twisted around his tiny waist.
They cooked together, Nora cracking the eggs with careful concentration, Blaze stealing pieces of toast from the rack.Anna kept glancing toward the hallway that led to her mother’s room, hoping the coffee would coax Lily out of bed.But the door stayed shut.
After breakfast, she poured a mug for herself and another for her mother, setting it on a tray with a slice of buttered toast.She carried it upstairs and knocked again.
“Mom?”she called softly.No answer.
She eased the door open.Lily hadn’t moved.Her eyes were open, staring toward the window.
“I brought you coffee,” Anna said gently, setting the tray on the nightstand.
Lily nodded faintly, but didn’t sit up.
“Just leave it.I’ll drink it later.”
Anna stood there for a moment, unsure whether to say more.She thought about pressing, asking her why the studio was closed.She had a hundred questions for her mom, because the woman who was letting a migraine keep her in bed wasn’t the mother she knew and loved.
Anna let out a long breath and shook her head.She had to give her mother some grace.She knew how bad it had hurt her to lose her father—she couldn’t imagine losing Luke.She didn’t know the exact pain her mother was going through, and she had to remember that she needed softness, kindness right now and not someone judging and pushing her.
So, instead of saying all the things that were jumbling around in her brain, she just said, “Okay.Let me know if you need anything.”
Back downstairs, she cleaned the kitchen while the kids watched cartoons on the old loveseat.The house still smelled like breakfast, but that tightness was back in her chest.
Her mother had always been the strong one.The one who held everything together when Anna was little.The one who swept in with a hug and a cup of tea when things fell apart.But this morning, Lily looked fragile.Lost.
Anna stepped outside onto the back porch, her phone pressed to her ear as she waited for her brother to pick up.
“Yeah?”Cody’s voice came through, rough and tired.
“She wasn’t up this morning,” Anna said softly.“I mean, Mom wasn’t up.She’s usually down before six, but… nothing.No music, no coffee, no humming along to Bonnie Tyler while she flips pancakes.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line.“Is she okay?”
“I think so.She’s still asleep.But… it’s not normal.I can’t remember the last time she slept in.”
Cody exhaled through his nose.“I don’t know, Anna.”
