“And after I get home,” our mother said. “Your father’s not coming back to the farm.”
My brain stumbled. “I don’t understand.”
“He left you,” Jo burst out. “I will never forgive him.”
“No, honey. No. Ash didn’t leave me. And he hasn’t left you girls. I asked him to move out.”
“What?”
My world lurched. “Why? Don’t you love him anymore?”
“Your father is an amazing man,” our mother said carefully. “He does wonderful work, important work, that he loves. I admire his commitment very much. But that’s not enough to sustain a marriage. I told him if he went this time, not to come back.”
Jo’s face was stormy, her eyes betrayed. “But where will he go?”
“Aunt Phee has invited him to stay with her at Oak Hill. It’s his heritage, after all. Just as the farm is mine. And yours,” she added. “Your heritage from my side of the family.”
Ourheritage? Like she was dying. How could she do this to our father? To our family?
“You just had surgery,” I said. “I don’t think you should be making any sudden decisions right now. Wait until you feel better.”
“No, no.” Our mother half laughed. Wiped her eyes. “I’m fine. I’ve been thinking about this a long time. Now that you’re both here to manage things, it seems like a good time to make a change. I don’t expect you to stay forever, of course. You both are moving on with your lives. It’s time for me to move on with mine.”
I grasped for words. “But yesterday... Christmas...”
Our mother patted my hand. “I wanted to get through the holiday before I said anything to you girls.”
“What about Beth?” Jo asked.
“I’ll tell Beth when she comes home in January. I didn’t want to say anything before she left for Nashville.”
“And Amy?” I said.
Our mother sighed. “I’ll talk to her. I want to tell them myself. I’m sure they’ll have questions, too.”
That struck a memory. A lot of memories, actually. Whenever my father was deployed, my parents never sat us down and broke the news together. It was always Momma, explaining and reassuring. If we had fears, we took them to her. If we had questions, she answered them.“We need to be strong for your father,”she always said.“Let’s not worry your father.”
She’d spent our whole lives sparing his feelings. Protecting him from ours.
I sat up straight. “Where is Dad, anyway?”
“Gone.”
“Already?”
“A soldier from his old unit is at Walter Reed hospital. Your father left early to visit him.” Our mother’s smile twisted. “He’s been a great comfort to the young man’s family.”
“Comfort, my ass,” Jo muttered.
Momma looked at her sharply, but for once she had no gentle rebuke, no wise saying, no guidance for us.
Jo was silent in the car going home. My heart wrenched in sympathy. She had always idealized our father. I wanted to do something to make her feel better. To make myself feel better. To fix things, like my mother. But I didn’t know where to begin.
You’re back,” Amy said with relief.
Lady woofed in welcome.
“Mommy, Mommy! Auntie Jo!”
