The comment caught Donna off guard, and her forearms wobbled, nearly giving out. She quickly shifted into Child’s Pose, aware of the irony as her thoughts flew to her own mother. No matter how badly they’d fought, or how cold her mother had become after her father died, whenever Donna snuck out of the house—usually to sit in her favorite spot by the river, where her dad had taught her to cast the perfect line and choose the best lure—her mother kept a lamp lit in her bedroom window. Her room sat at the top of a turret—the bay window was her favorite feature of the pretty Queen Anne Victorian—and she could see the light glittering through the trees like a lighthouse, guiding her back home. Until the day she left for good, never once looking back.
“I owe them a major apology. I’ve been such an inconsiderate jerk.” Stephanie collapsed to her knees and hastily rolled up her mat. “Okay if I take off?”
“Of course.” Donna retreated from her painful memories and mustered up a smile. She knew Stephanie would come around eventually; she’d simply needed a sounding board. As she watched her young mentee slip her bare feet into a pair of worn sneakers, Donna’s stomach clenched, a familiar knot of regret winding itself into a tight ball. If only Stephanie knew how lucky she was. Making amends was never easy, but in some cases—like hers—it wasn’t even possible. What she wouldn’t give to see her mother face-to-face, to say all the things she kept hidden in her heart.
Stephanie tossed a wave over her shoulder, and Donna waved back, but her yoga practice was far from over. She felt more tense than when they started. Settling back on her mat, she prepared to sink into Savasana when the loud ring of her cell phone pierced the air.
Her heartbeat stammered. This was the call she’d been waiting for—the call about the promotion. She’d been waitressing at Sel et Poivre, a fancy French restaurant in the Marina District, for nearly two years, slowly working her way up the ladder. When a management position finally opened up, she’d gone out on a limb and applied. Well on her way to fifty, it was time she had something to show for herself. On Friday, she’d breezed through the interview, and Marc, one of the owners, had said he’d be in touch first thing Monday morning. Which was today.
Gathering a breath, Donna kept her gaze glued to the sky, quieting her nerves as she pressed the phone to her ear. “Hello?”
“Hi, Mom.”
Donna jolted in surprise. Cassie? She had a monthly phone call with her daughter on the second Thursday of every month—one of her many attempts to repair their tenuous relationship, the relationship she’d nearly destroyed countless times over. They rarely broke or veered from their fixed date. Her pulse fluttered. Was something wrong?
“Hi. Is everything okay?” She never used terms of endearment likehoneyorsweetheart. That’s what other moms said to their daughters—moms who weren’t abject failures. Moms who’d earned the right. She didn’t even deserve to be called Mom at all, if she was honest with herself.
“Everything’s fine. I’m at a doctor’s appointment, and they have some routine medical history questions I thought I’d double-check with you, if that’s okay?”
“Of course. Fire away.” Even though Cassie had said “routine,” Donna couldn’t help feeling on edge as she rattled off answers—to the best of her knowledge—about her family’s history of various diseases and disorders. But it wasn’t until Cassie asked about gestational diabetes that her heart stopped. Why on earth would the doctor be asking about gestational diabetes unless—
Before she had a chance to confirm her suspicion, her phone buzzed with another call.Marc.
“Mom?” Cassie prompted. “Did you hear my last question?”
“Yes, sorry. I was distracted by an incoming call. No history of gestational diabetes.”
“Great. Thanks! I’ll let you get your other line. Bye!”
“Wait, Cass—” she started, but her daughter had already hung up.
In a daze, Donna accepted Marc’s call.
“Donna, my love! How’s my favorite employee?” Marc’s smooth timbre slipped through the speakers, oozing with his trademark charm. Some might consider him unctuous, but Donna had to give the man credit. He’d made a pass at her shortly after she was hired, but he’d respected her polite refusal and hadn’t let it affect their working relationship.
“Waiting anxiously,” she said honestly, for more than one reason. Would Cassie have told her about the pregnancy if they hadn’t been interrupted?
“Well, wait no more,mon amie. You have the job! That is, if you still want it,” he teased.
His excitement reverberated in her ear, but she couldn’t formulate a response. She couldn’t stop thinking about Cassie. Her daughter was going to have a baby. Which meant she’d be a grandmother. This precious new life would have no memories of the old Donna; it wouldn’t know the demons she wrestled every day. She’d have a chance to start over, to do things differently. Maybe she’d even have a chance to be there for her daughter, to be the kind of mother she should have been.
“Hello? Donna? Are you listening?” Marc chanted in a singsong voice. “I’m making all your dreams come true. Youdostill want the job, don’t you?”
“Sorry, I—” She paused. What could she say? This was the moment she’d been waiting for. She’d worked so hard, paid her dues. She was finally turning her life around, and this was the professional break she needed. She’d be a manager at a five-star restaurant. No more low-level positions, scrounging to get by. And yet, she couldn’t summon the one simple word that should be on the tip of her tongue.
Every fiber in her being was telling her she needed to go back to the last place on earth she ever wanted to be, the place where all her nightmares began.
CHAPTER4
CASSIE
Cassie set a steaming cup of Earl Grey in front of her friend and sister-in-law, Penny Davis, then settled in the chair opposite her. Penny mentioned something about an email and an old diary, but Cassie’s thoughts kept drifting. Sunlight streamed through the front window of The Calendar Café, glinting off Penny’s long, coppery braid. The thick plait fell in front of her right shoulder, dusting the tabletop. Had Penny been born with wispy auburn curls? And what about her eyes? The burnt umber hue perfectly matched her hair color, which made for a striking combination.
Beneath the table, Cassie placed a hand on her stomach. What color eyes would their baby have? Green like hers? Or hazel like Luke’s? Or maybe some other color entirely. So much about raising a child involved uncertainty. Would her pregnancy have complications? What about the delivery? Would their baby be born healthy? Would she even carry to term? She shuddered, not even wanting to consider the possibility of a miscarriage.
They’d decided not to announce their pregnancy until they made it past the first trimester, just in case. While she understood the prudence in waiting, the last few days had been more difficult than she’d anticipated. She longed for advice, for the wisdom of experienced mothers. Was it normal to be riddled with worries, to have doubts about motherhood, while also being hopelessly in love with a child you’d never met?
The instant she’d heard their baby’s heartbeat, the tears fell, unbidden. Luke had wrapped his arm around her shoulders, holding her close against his side, his own eyes glistening as they processed the intense, unfamiliar emotions. The doctor had given them a moment of privacy, as if she’d witnessed similar scenes countless times before.
