“It’s not.”
“There has to be another way.”
“I wouldn’t be here if there was.” I sounded utterly defeated as I told her, “I’ve already sold my car, my wedding ring, and anything else I could get my hands on. Lila Kate sold what she could, but it wasn’t enough.”
“You sold your car?”
“I did, but Chrissy from work is letting me borrow her mother’s van until I can afford another one.”
That did it.
Her face went pale.
“No. This is too much. You have to tell me what’s going on.”
“I would if I could, but I can’t. It’s better this way.”
“No, it’s not.” Mom held her hand up, stopping me from interrupting as she said, “This is bad. I can feel it in my bones. You have to tell me what’s going on, and you have to tell me right this instant.”
“I can’t.”
“I don’t want to hear that,” she pushed. “I’m your mother! There’s nothing you can’t tell me.”
“That’s not exactly true.” I pressed my lips together and inhaled a deep breath. “I know you’re worried, but you’re just going to have to trust me on this one and know I’m doing everything I can to help Lila Kate out of this mess.”
Silence settled between us.
I had no idea what she was thinking.
My mother was in her late fifties but looked much younger. She had light-brown hair that she refused to let go gray and usually kept it pulled back in a messy twist. And she had beautiful green eyes that always seemed to notice the cracks in other people but somehow missed the ones forming right in her own home.
She wrote for the local paper for as long as I could remember. She was always chasing the next big story and worked harder than anyone I knew. And she was a good mother. I never once doubted that, but she was driven in a way that made her miss things.
Late-night talks.
Birthdays.
Heartbreaks, big and small.
Successes and failures, unless they were her own.
She loved us fiercely, just not always when we needed it most. She glanced over at Dad, and years of marriage and understanding passed between them. Finally, he stood and started down the hall. “I’ll get it.”
Mom turned her attention back to me as she whispered, “Mom wouldn’t want this.”
“I know.”
I hated that Nana’s ring, a symbol of love that had lasted a lifetime, was about to become my last hope.
Dad walked back into the room and placed the ring in my hand. “Is this going to be enough to cover it, or will you need more?”
“I’m not sure, but I’ll figure it out.”
“I can help.” He glanced over at Mom as he slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out an old baseball card. “You can sell this.”
I glanced down at the card, and my chest tightened when I saw that it was his cherished Mickey Mantle card. It was something he’d held onto for years, saying it was his retirement plan. I had no idea how much it was worth, but I knew it was valuable. Otherwise, Dad wouldn’t have kept it locked away in his safe. I knew it was important to him. There was no way I could take it from him.
He was a prideful man and worked hard to provide for his family. He’d always done exactly that, until he had a stroke a couple of years back. It had taken a real toll on him and the family finances. The hospital bills wiped out all their savings, and they were still trying to get back on their feet.
