She laughs. “You too. You have a beautiful yard, Mrs. Dawson.”
“Call me Jane,” Mom says. “And thank you! Your cat sure likes it.”
Summer’s eyes dart toward the backyard. Her pupils dilate, entranced by the multi-pane glass windows that stretch along the back of the house. The view is cloaked by the inky night sky, and it’s impossible to make out anything but shadows.
“Millie’s outside?”
“She’s been out there all day, brushing up against the lilies. Good thing her fur is already orange, or she’d have pollen stripes.”
Summer drifts toward the door.
My mom covers half her face, cringing as she looks at me. “I’m sorry. Were we not supposed to let her out?”
Summer slips outside.
“You’re fine. She was worried Millie wouldn’t find her way back if she got out, but that cat was desperate to be outside. Trust me, you saved yourself a shirt,” I reassure her.
“Now that sounds like a story. Come sit.” Dad pats the spotnext to Quinn on the sofa before kicking up his feet on the ottoman and crossing his ankles. I settle beside him in the corner of the L-shaped couch, my mom on the opposite end.
With the newfound silence, I ask what’s been on my mind since I found out Caroline left.
“How did she seem? Caroline, I mean.”
Quinn nestles into the crook of my arm when I drape it around her shoulders.
“She seemed like any good mother-in-law would—worried about you.”
“Really?” I thought she’d be mad.
“Well, Wade did have to ask her if she was okay at dinner six times because she wasn’t talking much,” she admits.
I knew it would bother her. It’s unlike Caroline not to have a say in everything.
“Do you think I should call her?”
“No.” My dad is quick to speak first. “You did the right thing.”
“Wade was encouraging her to go on a girls’ trip to McCall for the week with her bunco ladies now that we are back to help you. I think she just needs a break. She’ll be at the talent show on Saturday. You can talk to her then.”
“Yeah. Okay,” I say, but really I’m clinging to the advice my new therapist offered me during my emergency first session with him in my hotel bathroom while Summer was still sleeping. When I expressed my fear over Caroline’s emotions in this situation.Let others acknowledge and process their feelings without allowing yourself to carry the weight, he said.Their expectations are on them. Your boundaries are on you. You get to decide how much you let them in and what you’re willing to share. There’s strength in knowing you define your own happiness.
That reminder helps ease the worries I can’t control, and Ihold tight to the little person slumped against my side. In the few minutes since I sat, Quinn has fallen asleep.
“I should get her to?—”
“She didn’t leave!” Summer bursts through the back door with Millie curled in her arms. “And she likes it here!” Her smile widens as a gust of astonishment and contentment exits her lungs.
“What’s not to like?” I look at my parents—the two people who raised me in the house I used to resent. If time and memories can heal those deep-seated wounds, there’s no relationship in my life that can’t be mended by them too.
Mom jumps to her feet. “You two must be starving. Can we get you something to eat? There’s leftover pot roast in the fridge.”
“Actually, I’m feeling pretty worn out. But thank you for offering,” Summer says.
“And I should get Quinn to bed.”
“Of course! I’m sure you’re both exhausted. We’ll catch up more tomorrow.” Mom pulls Dad from the couch, dragging him toward their bedroom.
“Good night,” Summer and I say in unison before she beelines for the front door.
