She’s still giggling as I slide off her bed and replace the book on the shelf. I watch as she takes off her glasses, then carefully folds them and puts them into their case. She switches on a night light, then flips the switch on the wall to turn off the overhead light. Immediately the room is filled with the peaceful magic of thousands of stars glimmering against the walls and ceiling. We’re transported to the world where she dreams of fairies fluttering over fields of tall grasses and mermaids twirling and leaping out of the sea.
“Abby, if you were my mom, what would you say when you tucked me in?”
The question guts me and I have to fight not to look emotional. I put off answering directly in hopes of getting myself together. “What do you mean, honey?”
“Well, I always imagined that if my mom were here, she would say something really lovely to me when she put me to bed. Or maybe she’d tell me some secret things I need to know about boys and being a woman and stuff.”
“Oh, well, yes, I suppose my mother did that from time to time.”
“You would do itallthe time if you were a mom, I just know it.” She looks up at me adoringly and I can’t help but run my palm over her soft cheek.
She lays down and snuggles into her pillow while I tuck her quilt up around her neck.
“Abby, what do you think my mom said when she tucked me in? When I was little, and she was alive?”
I’m on the verge of tears and I pretend to be thinking as I look up at the low ceiling. “I bet she told you that you’re perfect just the way you are, and that there is nothing she would ever want to change about you,” I say, stopping just before my voice cracks.
Olive stares at me expectantly, and I assume she wants me to go on.
“And that she can’t believe her luck to get you for a daughter.”
“She definitely said that.” Olive beams up at me. “I think I remember it, actually.”
“I’m sure you do.” I smile and cup her cheek with my hand. “It’s late. Time to sleep.” Then, I lean down and give her a kiss on her forehead.
When I straighten up, she grabs my hand before I can take it off her cheek. “Abby, can I tell you something?”
“Sure.”
“You’re my best friend. I wish you were my mom.”
I wish I were too.
I tuck her hair behind her ear. “If I had a daughter, I would want her to be exactly like you.” I kiss her on the top of her head. “You better get some sleep now.”
I walk out of her room and sit down on the small built-in couch to read. But instead of opening my book, I think about the little girl who probably fell asleep in about ten seconds flat. She is the best reason I can come up with to take things with Liam at a tortoise-slow pace. Yes, doing nothing is the best thing I can do for all three of us.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Man cannot discover new oceans unless he has the courage to lose sight of the shore.
~ Andre Gide
I’ve been giving love a lot of thought lately, and I’ve come to some undeniable conclusions. For example, the difference between falling in love when you're twenty versus falling in love when you're forty is that when you're twenty, you're a lot more willing to compromise. You’re so desperate to make it work, you’ll do or give up almost anything. When you're forty, however, and you've been through what I have, you understand what giving up parts of yourself really means, and you're no longer willing to do it. It’s got to be a ‘here I am, take me or leave me’ sort of thing for both parties. That way, if it doesn’t work out, or your significant other doesn’t happen to outlive you, you still know who you are and are happy to live with her.
At this age, you also understand the importance of using logic as well as lust to make your decision because you've given your heart away and lost it once already, so you know what that truly means. Now, I'm not saying I'm definitely in love with Liam, because I may not be, but on the other hand, I might be. So, if I am going to consider starting all over again, I'm going to do it right this time. Which, in my case, means knowing who I am, what I love, and precisely what I am unwilling to compromise.
To that end, I have started a list of things I love. This isn't one of those ‘Must Have’ lists in which any potential mate must either match up perfectly or he’s out. It’s more like things that I will unreservedly continue to enjoy after any type of commitments are made.
I like going to kitchen parties. I like the music, I like the desserts, I like the beer. So, instead of pretending I don’t, I’m going to start going to them as often as possible (like tonight).
I have no idea what I am to Olive, technically, but I like her almost more than anyone else I know, and I want to do whatever I can to make her life better for as long as possible. (Total deal-breaker should Liam and I crash and burn, but remain friends, and I find someone else.)
I like Cheetos better than popcorn, and sometimes I like Cheetos for supper. (Actually, this one is a deal-breaker, so now that I think of it, this list may be one of those awful “Must Have’ lists.)
I love to dance around the kitchen while listening to cheesy pop songs, folk music, up-tempo, classical, and the occasional jazz tune. (And I suppose this is a bit of a deal-breaker, because I want to be with someone who will dance along with me, or at the very least won't look at me like I’ve grown a third boob.)
I love Indian food—butter chicken, coconut rice, as much naan bread as I can get, and a nice cool mango lassie to wash it all down. (Not a deal-breaker because I can happily eat it alone.)
