Page 111 of Brides and Brothers
Camille pulled out the kitchen chair and sat down. Her head was swimming, and the last thing she wanted to do was start a second argument with her mother. They hadn’t even hit the five-minute mark of being together.
“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself, young lady?” her mother barked.
Camille looked at her with a blank expression. “Mom, I’m older than you were when you had both of your children. We live on a potato farm, so we’re clearly not starving. My husband makes enough to support me, and my income is surplus. Babies are born every day in Montana, and it’s shocking, but they actually have incredibly high survival rates. And, please, before we go another minute, that husband of mine, who you keep criticizing and whose name you keep messing up, deserves your respect. He is my spouse, your son-in-law, and the father of my child.”
She was proud that she’d kept her tone neutral, though her words had been backed with firmness. It made her feel like a good teacher. Unfortunately, her student was her mother, and her mother still thought of her as a disobedient child. It was very confusing, and Camille’s head hurt too much to sort it out.
Her mother sighed impatiently. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were that attached to him.” She turned and started opening and shutting cupboards.
Camille broke her neutral tone so her voice could be heard over the noise of the cupboards banging shut. “What is that supposed to mean? Of course I’m attached to him. I married him, didn’t I?”
Her mother shrugged and peered into her fridge. “I’ve been married. I know how marriage can be. You obviously got married because you were pregnant, which explains why you married Abel—”
“Aiden,” Camille clarified, “and I know you know his name, so please make an effort and get it right.”
“All right, Aiden. Anyway, it explains why you insisted on such a rushed wedding.”
“Mom! Have you been saving up all these hateful things to say to me? Why are you acting like this? You’re misconstruing everything. You have to know me better than that.”
Her mother pulled out some carrots and celery and an onion from the refrigerator and carried them to the counter. “I might have been saving some of these things up. My therapist has been urging me to express myself to you.”
“Your therapist told you to insult and accuse me?”
“I told him you’d argue with me!” her mother defended.
Camille put her heavy head on the table, and the dam she’d built up around her emotions finally burst. So much for proving to her mother that her lifestyle and choices were the route to happiness. Her tears turned into sniffles and from there to racking sobs. Could life get any more miserable? Her shoulders shook from the intense cry, and nothing and no one could comfort her now.
Several minutes passed, and Camille’s wails weren’t diminishing. She couldn’t help it. It had needed to be released since the night Aiden had left her. After forcing herself to bottle up the fear and pain for two weeks, not even the embarrassment of crying in front of her mother could stop her. Beyond that, Camille had spent the last ten years of her life being a wall of strength and power in order to impress her mother, but it was to no avail.
She felt a hand on her back. It was small and cold. Nothing like Aiden’s comforting touch. She ignored it and kept crying. A fleeting thought, between mountains of self-deprecation, reminded her to be grateful she wasn’t debasing herself in front of her brothers-in-law since they’d insisted she have some time with just her mom.
“Camille!” Her mother’s voice was sharp and made her jump. She lifted her head, confused, tears streaming down her cheeks. “That’s enough. You’ve had yourself a good long cry, and now you need to explain what’s going on.”
Her mother’s bossy demands snapped her out of her sinkhole and back to reality. Camille wiped at her eyes and hiccupped. “I’m sorry. I feel like a train wreck!”
Her mother put her hands on her hips. “It looks like you might actually need your mother’s help for once. All I can say is it’s about time!”
Camille used the sleeve of her sweater to wipe her eyes. “About time?”
“Nothing. Don’t try to analyze it. That’s what my shrink is for.”
Camille took several deep breaths and used her hand as a fan to try to dry her eyes. “I could probably use a therapist these days myself. Perhaps that’s why you’re here,” she joked.
Her mother started chopping vegetables. “Amy kept pushing it and canceling my reservations. She can be very persuasive when she wants to be. It’s as plain as day that she knew about the baby and the condition you’re in. She sent me to take care of you.”
“I’m perfectly capable—”
“I know, I know,” her mother interrupted. “You can take care of yourself. But you don’t have to be a martyr. There were many times I wished my mother would come take care of me, and she never did. After I had my own kid, my mom threw in the towel. In her book, her own motherhood was over. I promised myself I’d never be that way. If I’m going to be a grandma, then I’m going to be the best grandma there ever was.”
Camille’s eyes dried up at her mother’s words. “You mean you’re happy with the idea of being a grandma? Even if it’s not Amy’s child?”
“Amy’s child? What’re you saying?”
“I was under the impression you didn’t want anything to do with me.”
Her mother stood there for a moment, knife poised above the vegetables. “It’s not that I didn’t want anything to do with you. It’s simply that you didn’t need me. But your grandkids will need me, regardless of how capable their mother is.”
Camille looked down at the grain of the table. What she wanted to say was that shedidneed her mom. She’d always needed her—her approval, her acceptance, her affirmation. “I’ve heard it takes more than parents to raise a child,” she said instead. God knew her limits, but Camille hadn’t expected her mother to be the answer to her prayers. “Wait, did you come because Amy told you to? Or is there another reason?”
