The drive to Wells took longer than it should have. She had to stop twice, once to vomit discreetly behind a gas station, once to rest when her vision grew too blurred to drive safely. The facility was bright and professional, nothing like the grim institutions she remembered from her mother's decline.
She found Daniel in the day room, sitting by a window, wearing clothes she didn't recognize. He looked up when she approached, and for a moment, his eyes sharpened.
“Lillian.”
Her heart stopped. “You know me?”
“You're the woman who comes sometimes. You bring those cookies.”
He didn't know her, not really. She was just the cookie woman. But she sat beside him anyway, pulled out the tin of shortbread she'd bought at the expensive bakery in town.
“I need to tell you something,” she said, though she wasn't sure he could understand. “I destroyed your business. It was a long time ago. I wanted Elizabeth back, so I tried to ruin you.”
Daniel took a cookie, examined it carefully. “These are good cookies.”
“I called in favors, blocked your contracts, made sure banks wouldn't lend to you.” The confession poured out to this man whose broken mind couldn't hold it. “I thought if you failed, she'd come home.”
“Elizabeth makes good cookies too,” Daniel said. “But she's busy today.”
Lillian touched his hand, this man her daughter had chosen over everything. His fingers were gnarled from decades of hauling traps, marked by honest work. He'd loved Elizabethcompletely, simply, without conditions. Everything Lillian hadn't been capable of.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered.
“That's okay,” Daniel said, patting her hand. “Everyone makes mistakes.”
The absolution from someone who couldn't truly give it should have meant nothing. Instead, it broke something open in Lillian. She sat in that sterile day room and cried while Daniel ate cookies and hummed something tuneless and peaceful.
A nurse found her there an hour later, suggested gently that visiting hours were ending. Lillian stood to leave, grabbing her cane. She looked back at Daniel, but he'd already forgotten she was there. Happily eating his cookies, he stared out the window at something only he could see.
The drive back was worse. She had to pull over at the Kennebunkport town line, her body finally refusing to cooperate. She sat in her car on the side of the road, watching the rain begin to fall, and called her driver. Pride was another thing she couldn't afford anymore.
While she waited, she thought about Mother’s Day, about sitting in the dining room where Elizabeth had served countless meals, telling her grandchildren the full scope of her sins. Would they forgive her? Did it matter? She'd be dead within weeks regardless.
But it mattered to her, she realized. Not for her eternal soul or some deathbed redemption, but because they deserved to know their mother had forgiven her. Elizabeth had found grace Lillian never deserved, and her children needed to know that love could survive even the worst betrayals.
Her phone rang. It was Katherine.
“Lillian? We're worried. You left your medication here yesterday.”
The child had noticed, had worried. This prickly, defensive girl who held everyone at arm's length had tracked Lillian's medications.
“I'm fine, dear. Just returning from visiting your father.”
Silence. Then: “How was he?”
“He liked the cookies.”
“He always does.”
They sat with that truth between them, that Daniel's pleasures were now that simple, that small.
“This weekend,” Lillian said. “I need you all there. Sunday, after your brunch, don’t forget.”
“We'll be there.”
“All of you. Even that nice contractor if he's willing. This affects him too.”
“Ben? Why?”
