Mark’s gaze moves down to my hands that are again clasped in his, before he peers up at me. There’s a cold look in his eyes.
“You never wrote that note, did you?”
Wrinkling my eyebrows, I ask, “What note?”
His shoulders slump. “I should’ve known it.”
“What note, Mark?”
“After I woke up from surgery in the hospital, I received a note. There were all types of cards and whatnot, but the one with your name on it was a type-written letter. It said that you never wanted to see me again. That you were too good for me. Had always been too good for me, but especially now that half of me was useless.”
I gasp and cover my mouth with my hand. “Ineversaid or wrote anything like that, Mark. I never would’ve.”
He swallows and nods, retaking my hands. “I know. I might’ve realized it back then if I weren’t in so much pain and anguish over my new reality.”
“My father …”
“Yeah, I figured it out that night you finally told me how abusive he was.” He sighs heavily. “We’re going to fix this.”
“How?”
He squeezes my hands. “You and I have had enough heartbreak during this time of year. It’s time for a little Christmas miracle.” He brings my face forward and kisses my forehead.
“Trust me,” are his final words before he turns to head out the emergency department’s exit.
Chapter 18
“Are you sure you don’t need anything, Mama?” I ask for probably the third time that morning, as I come to sit on the couch next to my mother.
It’s been five days since she got home from the hospital. Eight days total since that horrible morning I walked into her bathroom and found her in the tub. And seven days since I’ve seen Mark, though he called on Christmas to wish me and my mother a Merry Christmas.
“I’m fine, Jackie. Sit down and rest,” she insists, sounding a little stronger than she has in months, but that could also just be me hoping she’s getting better. I kick myself almost every day for not seeing the signs sooner. I hate that I didn’t notice how far my mother had sunk and where her mind was going. Add to that my sheisty uncle coming over and essentially threatening and bullying her, and I hate that she was so alone.
“How are you feeling? Do your bandages itch?” I ask, looking down at her wrists covered in the white medical tape and bandages the hospital used. We change them every other day. Thankfully, the wounds are on the mend.
“Jackie, please. I’m allright. Let’s finish watching this film. It was one of your favorites as a little girl.”
Sighing, I turn back to the screen at the exact moment ten-year-old Macaulay Culkin pats his face with his father’s aftershave and screams from the burn. The classicHome Alonescene. It brought me to laughter as a kid, but right now, it only makes me long for when days were simpler. For days, my mind has been on a constant rotation between trying to figure out if I’ll be able to save the house for Mama or if we’ll have to find someplace else to live.
Also, exactly how I’m going to manage to pay for that place since I’m not entirely sure I still have a job. I haven’t been to work or in contact with anyone at my job since I called out that day. The only person I’ve spoken with besides doctors and my mother is Mark, which was relatively brief on Christmas morning. He called to wish me a Merry Christmas but said that he had some things to take care of and wouldn’t be able to see me.
I spent the holiday alone switching between Hallmark and Lifetime movies, wishing I was snuggled in Mark’s arms, and that my mother was okay. Those are the only two things I still want.
Glancing back, I look over my shoulder to see my mother let out a little laugh at the film, and I feel some relief that at least one of my wishes appears to be coming true.
“I know you didn’t order more food, did you?” my mother asks with a wrinkle in her brow when there’s a knock at the door.
Shaking my head, I push the red and green throw blanket off my legs and head to the door to see who it is.
Peering through the peephole, I gasp when I see who’s on the other side.
“Resha?” I question as I pull the door open.
Resha, Mark’s sister-in-law, stands in front of me, smiling as she wraps her arms around the baby strapped to her chest.
“Connor’s parking,” she says.
Glancing over her shoulder, I see Mark’s brother getting out of their dark-colored SUV across the street.
