She laughed like we weren’t talking about one of the most traumatic moments of my life. “I used to play the piano. A long time ago.”
“You did?” he asked.
“I wasn’t any good,” she said.
“You were good,” I assured her, the guilt rising to the surface again. She had been, even if it was more for her parents than for herself.
“It was great to see your mom at the hospital the other day,” Tara said. “She’s so nice. She always tells me how proud she is of me. I need to come by and spend more than a few minutes with her.”
I bit the insides of my cheeks and nodded. “Yeah, you should.”
“Her mom is nice to you?” Elijah asked. “She hates me.”
“Smart woman,” Michael said with a laugh.
“She probably hates men because her husband screwed her over,” Tara said, laughing as well.
My phone buzzed in my purse, and I was so grateful for the interruption that I took in a relieved breath. I freed my phone, saw the wordMomscrolling across the screen, and turned the phone to Elijah. He nodded and I excused myself to the house.
CHAPTER 23
“Hey, Mom, everything okay?” I stepped back through the doors Elijah and I had exited through earlier and into the kitchen.
“Did you buy bananas?” she asked.
“Are we out? I can pick some up on my way home.”
“Okay,” she said.
“Is that all? Are you doing okay?”
“I wish I could drive.”
“I know you do.”
“You could get me a motorized wheelchair. That would make it to the corner mart.”
“You’re not supposed to be operating anything motorized with your concussion.”
“It’s a wheelchair, Sutton.”
“I’ll drive you wherever you need to go.”
“Obviously not,” she said, and then the line went dead. I rubbed at my arms while I stared at the large picture of Half Dome above the fireplace again.
I held my phone up to my mouth. “Hey Siri, what kind of loan would it take to finance a long-term caretaker for an ungrateful mother?”
It was a joke but Siri answered back, “I have pulled up several long-term care facilities on the web.”
“If only,” I muttered.
“It’s a beautiful picture, isn’t it?”
I let out a small yelp and whirled around. Elijah’s mother stood in the kitchen behind me. For how long, I wasn’t sure. She opened a drawer and pulled out a corkscrew, holding it in the air to show me she’d accomplished the mission that must have brought her into the house.
“Um…” It took me a moment to process her comment. “Oh! Yes, the photograph is amazing. I haven’t been to Yosemite since I was a kid.”
“Elijah is very talented.”
