Page 101 of A Little Twist

Forgiveness.

I sit for several minutes contemplating the word. It’s the second time I’ve been asked for it in less than a day. The first time was so easy, but this time?

Martha’s hand slides up and down my back, and I sit up, drying my cheeks with the backs of my hands.

“I grew up feeling worthless because I never had a mom, but now I realize I had two. One left me behind. The other was always with me… She drove me crazy, but she was always there.”

Martha’s lips poke out, and she nods. “Carol means well.”

The statement pushes a laugh through my lips. Shaking my head, I can’t let it go unchallenged. “She’s a judgmental old cow.”

When Martha doesn’t respond, I feel self-conscious.

I think about this situation, and I think about the stories I’ve heard so many times in this very room, working with Gwen. I remember holding people’s hands and feeling their pain. So many of them were so lost. So many of them were trying to rebuild with broken tools.

Gwen said I was an empath. I could connect with these strangers and give them what they needed, comfort and forgiveness.

Lost. Alone. Broken.

I could forgive them; can I forgive the people I know?

The fist in my chest loosens a notch. “I want to forgive her. I’m not sure I can, but I want to.”

Both of them.

“That’s good.” Her eyes are distant. “They say time heals. They just don’t say how much time.”

She’s pulling away again. I can see her doing it in front of me, back to that place of distance and hiding. She starts to rise, but I catch her hand.

“Thank you.”

She nods. “Your mom asked me to look out for you, so I tried. I think Alex Stone is a good man.”

“I love him…” It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud to another human. “And it scares me to death.”

“Why?”

I think about everything she just told me. “I was afraid I was like her.”

“You have dreams, but you’re not selfish. You take care of the ones you love.” Sliding her hand over my cheek. “You’re not her.”

CHAPTER29

ALEX

“On Sundays we have penny cakes with maple syrup and powdered sugar!” My little princess is arguing in the kitchen when I open the door from the garage.

“That’s too much sugar.” Jessica’s voice starts to rise. “Your father isn’t here, so we’ll have our own tradition. Apples and peanut butter!”

“Eww!” Pinky’s arms are crossed, and her eyes are squeezed shut when she turns around. She’s dressed in a pink tutu with herHave you seen my dad?shirt and a crown on her head. “You can’t make me eat that!”

I cover my mouth with my hand to hide my smile. The noise of the door closing breaks the impasse. My daughter’s eyes fly open, and her entire demeanor changes.

“Daddy!” she yells, running to me as fast as her legs will move. “Jessica’s trying to feed me dog food for breakfast!”

“I am not!” Jessica’s eyes are wide, and her hair is a mess.

She looks like she’s been on the battlefield.

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