Page 97 of The Calendar of New Beginnings
Ellen stared at him and then slid her glasses down her nose. “You know. I think you’re as half-cocked as she is.”
That did it. “Then you don’t know your daughter for who she really is. If you could see her the way I do, you’d know she is one of the most amazing, powerful, loving women on the planet. I thought medicine was tough, but Lucy makes that look like baking a cake. And if you knew how hard this calendar is for her and everything she’s gone through to make it happen…”
He broke off, horrified. Ellen grabbed him by the forearm, and for an older lady, she had the grip of wrestling champion.
“What in the world do you mean by that?” she barked out.
He was dead meat. “Nothing. Trying to compromise her vision to work with you has been hard on her.”
“Bullshit!” Ellen cried, tightening her grip. “You know the whole story about why she’s back, don’t you? Of course you do! You were always thick as thieves and now you’re doing the horizontal mambo.”
So that was where Lucy had gotten the term. “I do love your daughter. Maybe she’s right about you two not being able to see eye to eye. I’m going to go. I did what I came to do. What you decide to do is up to you. All I know is that you have a wonderful daughter who’s back in Dare Valley. It would be sad if you miss your chance to get to know the woman she’s become.”
She started to sputter, and so he left.
Then he heard the footsteps running behindhim. Dear God, was Mrs. O’Brien chasing him through her house in a kimono? He increased his pace.
When he reached the sidewalk, he didn’t slow down.
“You’re wrong, Andy Hale!” she shouted behind him. “Ilovemy daughter.”
As he locked himself in his car, he shook his head. Funny. He’d never mentioned her not loving Lucy.
Only not knowing her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Lucy was still a little shaken when she finished class. Today, she and her students had ventured to the planetarium to take photos under pressure. Each had taken a turn, but she’d stood in the theater the whole time, her arms crossed over her chest to help quell the inner anxiety she felt from the blaring sounds of battle from the film footage. This was another wound she’d suffered in that village—another hurt that didn’t show.
A couple students had dropped their phones. A few more promising students had stayed calm in the face of all the noise and gore, pointing and shooting with efficiency. Lucy had been impressed with their composure. She couldn’t wait to grade this next round of photos once they touched them up.
When she pulled into her driveway, she frowned. Her mother was sitting on a worn bench in what used to be a garden before Mrs. Weidman got too old to tend to it.
She’d expected there to be another face-off, but she hadn’t expected one this soon. Frankly, she wasn’t up for it.
Exiting the car as her mother stood and started walkingtoward her, Lucy said, “I just got home from class. Can we chat another time?”
“No,” her mother said in a harsh tone. “We cannot. Not when I have Andy Hale taking me to task for not knowing or loving my daughter. Not when he knows the real reason you’re home, and I don’t.”
Her breathing shattered. Andy had visited her mother?
Crap. Of course he had. He was a fixer. Fiery rage flashed through her. Heknewshe didn’t want him to interfere in her life. Well, she would deal with him later. Right now she had to figure out a way to appease her mother.
“Look. I didn’t know he was going to see you. If I’d known, I would have talked him out of it.”
Her mother’s face was pinched tight with tension. “Do you have any idea how hard I try to understand you?”
That stopped her in her tracks. “How hard you try?”
“Don’t belittle me,” her mother scolded. “Since you were little, you were different than any other kid I knew. Do you have any idea how hard it was to be a mother to a child like that?”
Her words were a hard slap to the face. “So it’s my fault for being different?”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” her mother said, clutching her hands together. “I’m trying to tell you that I didn’t know how to be a mother to a girl like you. You never liked the same things I did. When you were in high school, all you wanted to do was go to school, hang out with Arthur Hale, or rail about human rights issues in places I didn’t know anything about. Not once did you ever want to go shopping or get your nails done. Not like other girls.”
Lucy set her leather briefcase purse on the ground. This was going to take a while, and she didn’t want to have this confrontation while confinedin her small house. “You’re right, Mother. I’m not like other girls. I didn’t want the things most girls want. But you make me feel like I’m bad. For being me.”
Her mother’s eyes narrowed. “Well, you make me feel like a bad mother. You think I’m shallow for wanting to do a funny and risqué calendar to honor people who’ve died of cancer. And then you shame me in front of my friends.”
