Page 13 of Fall for Me

“No. Jude’s right,” I said. “I don’t need your protective shit, Eli. You’re not Mom.”

For a moment, only silence reigned. Then Eli said, “I’m sorry, Chels. It’s just… a bit of a shock.”

“Yeah, well, get used to it.” I turned then, not needing any of them to see the hot swell of tears in my eyes.

There, on the other side of this yard, I could see open air beyond the thin layer of trees, as if there was a precipice there. I needed somewhere to breathe.

Not one of them had negated what I said about being hideous.

Not one.

Humiliation burned through the tears, both because it was true—I looked like shit. But also because I was a grown woman, and all I wanted was my mom.

My dead mom.

As I strode away, I saw movement from the corner of my eye: Jude moving to follow me, but Eli putting a hand up to stop him. Eli, at least, was wise enough to know when I wanted to be alone. Once he was able to set his emotions aside, he was surprisingly intuitive. He was the person who’d come to my side at Mom’s funeral. He’d lost her too, but he saw the void I was teetering on the edge of.

I think he was the only one who knew how dependent I’d been on mom. He’d come to visit me once, in Martha’s Vineyard, with his ex-wife, back when they were married. I’d moved there because I knew if I didn’t, I’d live at home forever, never trying anything new; never starting my own life. The two of them had stayed for a whole week, renting a B&B at a nearby winery on my recommendation. But Mom had called while we’d been at dinner, and I had to tell her I’d catch up with her at our normal time.

“Wait, you talk to Mom regularly?” Eli had asked. “We only talk every couple of months.”

I’d shrugged. “Yeah, well, you’re married. You have your own life.”

I’d been too embarrassed to tell him Mom and I talked twice a week. But he saw it on my face. And I’d seen the understanding dawn on his.

I was the last to live at home after everyone else had left, sure. But I’d also been the shy, quiet girl who clung to Mom’s leg at social gatherings. Everyone else was loud and boisterous and too involved in their own stuff to pay attention to me when I was little. I didn’t even speak full sentences until I was five years old. Not that I couldn’t—I told whole stories to myself in the quiet of my room, or when drawing whole worlds for myself with crayons. I just didn’t want to speak to anyone.

And Mom staunchly defended my right to keep quiet.

I know there’s nothing wrong with you, peanut.

I swallowed down the sob riding up my throat now as I approached the edge of Seamus’s yard. Now, Mom. I could use you now.

Tears streamed down my face, soaking the bandage where it went across my cheek. I’d hastily reattached it to my face before leaving my room.

I slowed, waiting for the feeling to pass. Suddenly I wanted very much to lie down. It was so stupid of me to leave the hospital. But it was even more stupid of Eli to come out here. I’d reached the trees, and I walked around the front of one of the bigger ones, then pressed my back against it, out of sight of the others. I swallowed hard, over and over again to squash the sobs.

Focus on the here and now—that’s what that therapist I’d seen one time a few months ago, on Cass’s request—told me to do when I was feeling anxious. I never went back. They couldn’t help bring Mom back, which was the only thing that would take that pain away from the pit of my stomach. The pain I tried to party out of my system. But the therapist had given me a couple of useful nuggets. Look around, she’d said. Be present.

Right. In front of me, I could see the winding Quince River, where Dad used to take us kids fishing. The island, where Cass had met Blake. To the right, across the river, the town of Quince Valley, with its red iron bridge and stretch of brick buildings.

It was a beautiful view. This whole place was beautiful. There was something soft and quiet about it. Like the best stuff had filtered up high. It was peaceful, too. Everything I’d wanted back in that hospital room. Everything I’d wanted my whole life until I tried to fight it by creating as much chaos as I could.

For the first time since I woke up, I felt what I’d been looking for. No, not just since that moment. Since Mom died.

Peace.

Then my brothers’ voices filtered over to me.

Sighing, I glanced one last time at the hillside, breathing deep. I couldn’t stay here. It was time to go back.

But just as I was about to turn around, I realized I’d missed a whole area down below. I took a few steps forward. What I’d thought was a little strip of grass was actually a large clearing, perched above a short cliff, reached by a steep path to my right. Was this part of Seamus’s property too? It would be perfect for a wedding. Not that I was doing any event planning these days, but I’d been an event planner for the past seven years. I couldn’t help it. There were at least two hundred square feet of space down there, maybe more—enough room for at least twenty chairs, plus an arbor. I could see it now, woven with flowers, the couple holding hands against the stunning backdrop of the valley below.

Then I sighed. I couldn’t picture ever being able to do something as heart centered as attending a wedding again, let alone planning one.

I needed to get back to the hospital. But just as I turned, something caught my eye.

Movement, down below.

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