Page 24 of The Two of Us

“You can’t carry all of this on your own, princessa. It’s too heavy a burden to bear, even for you. Your mom would come here if you just asked.”

“Dad, the last thing we need is that woman flitting around here spewing off her criticisms of the American ways of life as if she didn’t live here the majority of her life.”

He laughs and it turns into a dry cough, racking his fragile body. He knows I’m right. “Laura said you’ve been helping spruce up the place so it’ll be ready for the realtors. Thank you.”

“It hasn’t been too bad.” I shrug. “You can learn pretty much anything if you’re willing to spend a few hours on YouTube.” I smile. “But I refuse to fix the planks on the front porch. Too many splinters. You’ll have to find someone else for that.”

He opens his mouth and closes it as if he’s choosing his next words carefully. “Have you seen Ambrose yet?”

My eyes narrow. “Yes. In fact, I have. Thank you for preparing me for that. It was lovely running into him without warning.”

His sigh is soft and I roll my eyes because this man is using his precious energy to admonish me. “I know you and you know you. If I’d told you Ambrose didn’t move away with the rest of his family, you wouldn’t have come.”

Is he right? Would I have avoided this critical time with my dad if I’d known Ambrose still lived across the street? I want to feel insulted, to tell him he’s wrong, but I can’t. The Mara from seven years ago wouldn’t have hesitated in her loyalty to the people she loved. But fear has kept me distanced from my old self for a long time. If my dad doubts my loyalty now, it’s only because I’ve given him a reason to.

“You should catch up with him. He’s turned into a fine man over the years.”

“Dad,” I warn.

“Stubborn as ever,” he says, his laughter mixing with another cough. “But… he stayed. Mara, after what happened between you two that night, he stayed.”

His words suck up all the oxygen in the room, making it impossible for me to catch my breath. He takes pity on me and changes the subject to topics that won’t make me squirm. We talk about my job, and our suspicions of Laura being a saint reincarnate. I grill him on the fact that he got a dog after denying me one my entire childhood, and I promise to spend more time with him during his limited wake windows. It’s not long before he falls back into unconsciousness, and when Laura comes to tell me I can go back to whatever I was working on, I tell her I’m fine right where I am.

***

Laura’s an exceptional cook. Exceptional doesn’t fully encompass what this woman is capable of in a kitchen. When she eyed me warming up ramen noodles on the stove, she snickered and dumped it down the garbage disposal before rummaging through the fridge. We’re sitting around the breakfast nook as she ladles a generous helping of lemon ricotta pasta onto my plate. The smell alone is enough to elicit strange sounds from my mouth and I’m not even embarrassed about it.

“Teach me your ways, Master Laura,” I moan around a bite of pasta.

She laughs. “Honey, you already know how to cook noodles. You just need to get more creative with the rest of it.”

I inhale the contents of my plate along with two bread rolls drenched in garlic butter before helping myself to seconds. When I die, I hope they remember to bury me with carbs.

I take a swig of my water. “Have you always lived in Speck Lake?”

She shakes her head. “I made the move after nursing school. My parents wanted to retire here and they convinced me I wouldn’t have a hard time finding a job with the demographics. I’ve always wanted to work in geriatrics.” She smiles.

“Do you have any children?” I ask and her smile dips. I smack my palm to my forehead, groaning. “Please forget I just asked that. It’s none of my business.”

“No, that’s okay. I wanted children,” she says, looking off into the distance. “But life doesn’t always move in the direction we expect.”

I understand the sentiment more than I care to.

“I have a younger sister, but she’s always felt like my baby. My mother had a surprise pregnancy while I was in nursing school and when I moved here, she needed more help with Anya than I’d realized,” she says, pushing her food back and forth with her fork. “She passed away from a heart attack when Anya was five.”

“Laura… I’m so sorry.”

Her smile is sad when she says, “That’s life for you. But losing a mother at such a young age… it does a number on someone. I’m sure you can understand that. Anyway, let’s just say I’m still taking care of that girl. I may not be a real mother, but I have more than enough people to take care of these days.”

I make Laura leave the cleaning to me since she was generous enough to cook. She excuses herself to tend to my dad, graciously sparing me the details of his bathing routine. As I dry the same dish in my hand for five minutes, I think about everything she’s told me. I don’t have siblings, but there was a time when the two kids across the street made me feel like I did. Would I have put my dreams aside to take care of them if the situation called for it?

I would.

I would in a heartbeat.

The doorbell rings and I leave the kitchen, dish towel still in hand. When I open the door, a freckle-faced carrottop stares up at me.

“Hey, Matty.” I smile. “Something wrong with the tree house?”

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