away from her husband’s rage.
“The girls want to go down the street to the park. I’m happy to take ’em there, if you can see fit to stay with your father for a little while. He’s already eaten, and the nurse will be here in a few minutes to give him more pain medicine. I know you don’t—”
“That’s fine, Mama,” Jordan said quietly. “I think Lily and Gracie would love that.” She looked back at the smooth, white-paneled door of the bedroom and sucked in another deep breath. “Dad and I have a lot to talk about.”
“It won’t do you no good, Jordan. He don’t remember anything.” Her mother’s voice sounded thin and raspy, and the delicacy of it tugged at Jordan’s heart. “Not a lick of it.”
“What?” Jordan’s hand fell from the doorknob as she turned to face her mother. “What do you mean he doesn’t remember? How could he not remember? Is it the medication?”
“No.” Her mother’s haunted, hollow-looking eyes met Jordan’s, and she squared her shoulders, as though mustering up some long-forgotten courage. “It’s dementia. Doc said it was brought on by the cancer. But whatever the reason, he don’t remember and it won’t do no good to have you bring anything up to him.” Her mother’s mouth set in a tight line before she took a deep breath and whispered, “He probably won’t even know who you are. Besides, the man can’t hardly speak anymore.”
“Mama.” Jordan folded her arms over her breasts, hugging herself in an effort to still her shaking body, anger and sadness swirling through her like a storm. “But you said—”
“I know what I said.” Her teary eyes stared down at the dish towel in her hands as she let out a slow breath. “It’s been so long since you came home, and I, well, I suppose I was worried that if you thought you couldn’t say your piece, then maybe you wouldn’t come home at all.”
A shroud of guilt hung heavily over Jordan as tears spilled down her mother’s cheeks, tears that were because of her, because she’d been a coward and stayed away for so long. Jordan couldn’t blame the old man for the pain on her mother’s face right now. Nope. This was entirely on her.
“Oh, Mama,” Jordan whispered as she closed the distance between them and gathered her mother in her arms.
In that moment, with her mother’s face cradled against her shoulder, Jordan realized how much she’d missed this. How much she’d longed for her mama’s hugs and the faint scent of jasmine that was so distinctly hers. With that familiar flowery smell came memories from Jordan’s early childhood in Oklahoma, her life before they came to Old Brookfield. She remembered sitting on the porch with her mother. A white rocking chair and her father nearby, singing and laughing.
Like a wisp of smoke, hazy and unclear, the image hovered in her mind, teasing her before vanishing almost as swiftly as it had come.
“I’m so sorry I stayed away for so many years, Mama. But it had been so long, and so many things had gone unsaid. I guess that I thought it was too late.”
That was true. When she was younger, Jordan had never thought her mother would want to see her again. After having her own children, she’d realized how silly that was. Nothing would keep her from being with her girls.
She’d spoken with her mother from time to time on the phone after Lily was born, whenever Jordan’s father wasn’t around, but communication had been spotty at best. In the past couple of years, her mother had managed a few day trips to New York under the guise of volunteer work for the church, but any more than that was out of the question. Jordan had tried to get her to leave, to come and live with them in New York, but she had always refused.
Just as well , Jordan thought. It’s not like her life with Ted had been happy or stable. The irony of her life was not lost on her. She had run away from an unhappy home as a girl, only to end up in the same situation as a woman.
“The girls want to go down the street to the park. I’m happy to take ’em there, if you can see fit to stay with your father for a little while. He’s already eaten, and the nurse will be here in a few minutes to give him more pain medicine. I know you don’t—”
“That’s fine, Mama,” Jordan said quietly. “I think Lily and Gracie would love that.” She looked back at the smooth, white-paneled door of the bedroom and sucked in another deep breath. “Dad and I have a lot to talk about.”
“It won’t do you no good, Jordan. He don’t remember anything.” Her mother’s voice sounded thin and raspy, and the delicacy of it tugged at Jordan’s heart. “Not a lick of it.”
“What?” Jordan’s hand fell from the doorknob as she turned to face her mother. “What do you mean he doesn’t remember? How could he not remember? Is it the medication?”
“No.” Her mother’s haunted, hollow-looking eyes met Jordan’s, and she squared her shoulders, as though mustering up some long-forgotten courage. “It’s dementia. Doc said it was brought on by the cancer. But whatever the reason, he don’t remember and it won’t do no good to have you bring anything up to him.” Her mother’s mouth set in a tight line before she took a deep breath and whispered, “He probably won’t even know who you are. Besides, the man can’t hardly speak anymore.”
“Mama.” Jordan folded her arms over her breasts, hugging herself in an effort to still her shaking body, anger and sadness swirling through her like a storm. “But you said—”
“I know what I said.” Her teary eyes stared down at the dish towel in her hands as she let out a slow breath. “It’s been so long since you came home, and I, well, I suppose I was worried that if you thought you couldn’t say your piece, then maybe you wouldn’t come home at all.”
A shroud of guilt hung heavily over Jordan as tears spilled down her mother’s cheeks, tears that were because of her, because she’d been a coward and stayed away for so long. Jordan couldn’t blame the old man for the pain on her mother’s face right now. Nope. This was entirely on her.
“Oh, Mama,” Jordan whispered as she closed the distance between them and gathered her mother in her arms.
In that moment, with her mother’s face cradled against her shoulder, Jordan realized how much she’d missed this. How much she’d longed for her mama’s hugs and the faint scent of jasmine that was so distinctly hers. With that familiar flowery smell came memories from Jordan’s early childhood in Oklahoma, her life before they came to Old Brookfield. She remembered sitting on the porch with her mother. A white rocking chair and her father nearby, singing and laughing.
Like a wisp of smoke, hazy and unclear, the image hovered in her mind, teasing her before vanishing almost as swiftly as it had come.
“I’m so sorry I stayed away for so many years, Mama. But it had been so long, and so many things had gone unsaid. I guess that I thought it was too late.”
That was true. When she was younger, Jordan had never thought her mother would want to see her again. After having her own children, she’d realized how silly that was. Nothing would keep her from being with her girls.
She’d spoken with her mother from time to time on the phone after Lily was born, whenever Jordan’s father wasn’t around, but communication had been spotty at best. In the past couple of years, her mother had managed a few day trips to New York under the guise of volunteer work for the church, but any more than that was out of the question. Jordan had tried to get her to leave, to come and live with them in New York, but she had always refused.
Just as well , Jordan thought. It’s not like her life with Ted had been happy or stable. The irony of her life was not lost on her. She had run away from an unhappy home as a girl, only to end up in the same situation as a woman.
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