Page 62 of Moonlit Kisses

She lifts one shoulder and allows it to drop, shaking her head from side to side with a half-grin. “I dunno.”

“I had a brother, Ethan. He was thirteen.” My throat tightens as a lump forms, my heart beating double time, like it has to beat for him too. I work hard to keep my tears at bay. Beth must sense my battle and moves closer, wrapping her arm around my shoulder and I can’t fight the sadness any longer. “I miss them so much,” I sob.

“Oh, sweet girl. I can’t imagine what it’s been like for you.” She wraps her other arm around me and squeezes me in close.

I let go.

In this stranger’s arms. I break down.

All the pent-up tears and emotions.

The heartache and the loss.

It all comes pouring out of me like a tsunami. She comforts me like a mother would as her hand cups the back of my head while the other one rubs up and down my back.

I burrow into her, deep into her shoulder, and release my misery.

My utter devastation.

When I eventually regain my control, I pull my head away from Beth, noting the large wet patch on her shirt. I want to hide away, embarrassment swamping me.

She cups my face, tucking the loose strands of sweaty hair behind my ears. Her face is full of compassion. “You know, I’ve been thinking about you coming back here. How you and Martin found each other. It feels as though you were brought to us, Molly.” She smiles sadly. “Perhaps Nicole guided you home so you could be with us.”

I nod. I’ve thought the same thing. Perhaps I was supposed to come here and find my family. Everything fell apart so spectacularly after the accident that I had no choice but to make a major life-changing decision. Maybe Mom wanted me here. Wiping my tears, I try to give Beth a smile of reassurance. “Perhaps.”

She scrunches her eyebrows together and glances down at her lap, then draws in a deep breath before raising her eyes back to mine. “I know I’m not your mom and I could never fill her shoes. But I want you to know that I’m here for you. Whenever or whatever you need.”

I lick my lips as a couple more tears escape. “Thank you, Beth.”

“Maybe one day, we could be friends,” she hedges.

I nod slowly. “Maybe.”

The silence in the room has become stifling. “I’d better get home. The troops are probably wondering where I am.”

We both stand and Beth collects her purse. “Thanks for stopping by.” And I mean it. When I first saw her sitting on my steps, I didn’t want to speak with her, and I was close to brushing her off. I’m glad I didn’t.

She gives me a gentle smile. “Thanks for not sending me away. I hope we can chat again soon.”

“I’d like that.”

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