“That bad, huh?” Mrs. Sterling looks nonplussed by what I’m certain is a very expensive knife being dropped on the floor.
Bending, I grab the knife and run the blade under running water from the sink.
“She wasn’t the best,” I admit, sliding my sliced veggies from the cutting board onto the salad greens.
“I’m sorry I didn’t recognize that. Back then, I mean. When I had the chance to see that side of your life.”
I’m working hard not to appear shocked, but I know I’m failing. I just know it.
“I’ll be honest with you, Lennon. When I heard about your mother, and Brady told me he was coming here, it upset me. Old wounds still feel fresh, which I realized is stupid. By now old wounds should be scars.”
My blood warms, along with my cheeks. I spent years around this woman, knowing she didn’t like me. I was too young and too afraid to say anything back then. But now? I’ve grown up. And I’m no longer afraid.
My gaze on hers, I open my mouth. “Just to clarify, what wounds are you referring to?” My tone is respectful, but I hope she hears in it the backbone I’ve acquired.
“I’m sure you know which one.” She glances at the floor, the expression on her face uncomfortable and appropriately embarrassed.
Wiping my hands on the dishcloth, I turn to face her. “All due respect, Mrs. Sterling, the truth is that you never really liked me. Somehow my very presence managed to inflict pain on you. So, as wounds go, there could be many to choose from.”
Drawing her gaze back up to mine, she squares her shoulders. This is the Mrs. Sterling I recognize. “Brady was questioned by the police because of you.”
I shake my head. “Brady was questioned by the police because of a conversation that was overheard and reported. Finn, Brady, and I were equal participants in that conversation.”
“Brady never should have been talking about what he was talking about in the first place.”
I don’t know what to be more amazed by. The fact that this woman cannot accept that her son is capable of making mistakes just like every other human being, or that we are standing here discussing this in such quiet voices.
I’m gearing up to respond, but Mrs. Sterling beats me to it with a wave of her hand. “I didn’t invite you over here tonight to rehash history. I wanted to apologize and hoped you’d allow me to explain my feelings and actions back then.”
I look outside, and in the distance, I see the shapes of three men standing before a fire. To Mrs. Sterling, I say, “The floor is yours.”
She walks to the breakfast table and sits down, pushing a second chair out with her foot. I’m grateful for the invitation to sit because I honestly don’t know if my feet could hold me another second. My earlier confidence is quickly disappearing.
We sit with our bodies angled toward one another and Mrs. Sterling begins. “Let me start by saying it was never my intent to hurt your feelings. It wasn’t about you, but more about Brady. I’m sure he’s told you all about his sister?”
I nod. Despite my irritation with Mrs. Sterling, I feel bad for her.
“I had one child who felt like a lost cause. I know that sounds harsh, but it’s true. She kept messing up, and we kept cleaning it up for her. Robert’s position as a judge was a blessing and a curse, I suppose.” She laughs, an empty sound. “And then there was Brady. Good, sweet, and honest. He made us happy and proud, day after day. After having a difficult child, having one like Brady is”—she raises her eyes upward—“a gift from Heaven.”
I nod my understanding, but I’m wondering just exactly how Finn and I factor in here.
“The problem was more Finn than it was you, until later. Finn was a troubled kid. Sullen, prone to fighting.” She ticks off Finn’s list of problems on her fingers. “Brady came to us once, asking for us to help Finn out when he’d been caught for shoplifting and—”
“He stole shoes because his had a hole and his uncle couldn’t afford to buy him another pair.” Is stealing okay? No. But how can Finn be faulted for wanting to wear shoes that kept his feet warm?
“Brady told us the situation, and of course it was sad. I didn’t like knowing his friend was in that predicament, making a choice like that. But spending time with the wrong people will bring someone down, and I didn’t want that happening to Brady.”
Her eyes widen, and it makes me realize the look on my face must be reflecting how I’m feeling inside. Shock, for one, and awe, for another. Shock that a child’s unfortunate situation can be discussed so mildly, and awe that the very same situation can be used against him.
“I’m not heartless. From that point on, when Brady needed a new pair of shoes, I bought a second pair. Those went to Finn. Brady told him he’d outgrown the shoes, or didn’t like them, or whatever excuse he came up with.” She points one finger at me, and her eyes narrow. “Finn doesn’t need to know that, by the way.”
I nod, swallowing, the backs of my eyes burning. All those times I watched Brady hand Finn a pair of shoes, saying they were too tight, or any other reason, he was really giving him a brand new pair of shoes.
Suddenly Mrs. Sterling isn’t looking like a cold bitch anymore.
“I’ve always liked you, Lennon. You had a fire inside you, an innate refusal to be kept down. You were quiet, but you held your chin high. You had moxie.” She looks at me, her eyes burning intensely. “You still do.”
Happiness blooms in my core. Until that last summer, I felt largely invisible. And here Mrs. Sterling is, saying she saw me the whole time.
