She lets out a long, tired sigh. “I won’t pretend I’ve been a good mother.”
“Mom?” I feel myself holding my breath. It’s the closest we’ve come to having a heart-to-heart talk. “I’m sure you did the best you could, and I love you no matter what.”
“It’s so hard, Hazel. Being a mother? I don’t want you getting your hopes up that a love so profound won’t break your heart and leave you feeling simply horrible about yourself. It’s a danger-zone, dear. A one-way ticket to pain more profound than you can imagine.”
I’m gripping the phone so tightly my hand starts to ache. “I think I read that in one of the parenting books.”
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.” Swallowing hard, I tip my face up toward the sky. It’s still raining hard, but the blue and white awning keeps me dry. “I just wanted you to know.”
“Thank you for telling me.” She pauses. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“Is the father of the children doing his part?”
“Yes.” I picture Luke’s face, and a little light leaks back into my heart. “He’s kind and caring and very supportive.”
“Good. That’s good.” Mom clears her throat. “You’ll keep me posted on your progress with the foster care center?”
“Of course.”
“And let me know if there’s more I can do in light of your…situation.”
“I will.”
We say our goodbyes, and I hang up the phone with a sense of relief and disappointment swirling like fog in my chest. So that’s that.
My mother knows now, so that’s one more thing ticked off my to-do list. Not a joyful announcement, but a practical task. I lean back on the building, praying nobody sees me standing alone on the sidewalk clutching my phone like a lifeline.
What did I expect?
For a few ragged breaths, I think about calling Luke. I’m aching to tell someone what just happened. Not just someone—Luke. The man who’d understand why I feel disappointed. Who’d get that I knew in my heart my mother would have this response, but I still hoped for more from the woman who carried me in her own body for nine months.
Luke would understand how I’m feeling right now. I know he would.
But I’m not brave enough to let him in like that. To see the chinks in my armor, the ache in my soul.
So I stuff the phone back in my bag and walk to my car with my head held high, my ridiculous heart throbbing like a stubbed toe.
“Can I help with anything, Hazel?”
I turn to see Lucy strolling into my kitchen with her kind, open smile. It’s making my panic tougher to swallow, which is fitting. Panic might be the only thing on the menu for family dinner.
“Everything’s great.” I shift so I’m hiding the disaster behind me. “Just checking the Crock-Pot.”
The Crock-Pot I forgot to plug in. I’ve just single-handedly ruined the first family dinner I’ve hosted.
Thank goodness my cousin doesn’t sense my distress.
“I swear I’d never survive without a slow cooker.” She leans back on my counter and sips from a glass of white wine. “Tough call if I had to give up the Crock-Pot, my car, or good chardonnay.”
“I hear you.” I could probably do without the Crock-Pot. I’d never actually used one before today. “There’s plenty more wine in the cellar. Should I open a couple more bottles?”
“That’s okay.” Lucy sighs with a wistful glance at her glass. “After this weekend, we’re temporarily cutting alcohol and anything that’s not organic. I’d better get in the habit.”
“Oh?” The dangling cord of my Crock-Pot catches my eye, and I pray my cousin doesn’t see it. “Doctor’s orders?”
