bit her lip,
refusing to give in to the sudden burn of emotions. She knew this emptiness
would never fully go away, but the past week, the pain had seemed fresh and new.
Layla had loved the holidays. She was always the one who’d insisted on
decorating the tree the day after Thanksgiving, who would drag them out to go
caroling with the church choir through the neighborhood, who would wake up
before the sunrise on Christmas morning so she could rush in to see the pile of
presents.
Without her, the season seemed not a time of hope and renewal
but of bitter loss.
Christmas morning, three days earlier, had been particularly
poignant. She and Sage had both put on cheerful faces as they’d opened their
gifts to each other, but she could tell her daughter was feeling the same
ache.
Christmas night they had gone to the noisy, crowded McKnight
party at Mary Ella’s, where all her siblings gathered with their families.
Claire and Riley had been there with Owen and Macy, Angie and Jim, of course,
with their children, and Alex. Even her sister Rose had driven out with her
family from Utah in the middle of a snowstorm in order to make it back to Hope’s
Crossing to spend Christmas in Mary Ella’s small house.
She suspected Rose and Michael had come for her sake, to lend
emotional support on her first Christmas without Layla. While she had been
touched at the gesture and happy to see her just-older sister, she had thought a
few times that the avalanche of concern just kept piling on.
She touched the edge of a place setting and straightened the
silverware a little, remembering how when she and Sage had returned home from
the noise and craziness of the family gathering, they had sat here in the living
room by the fire, watching the lights twinkle on the tree, snowflakes gently
falling and the little shih tzu puppy wrestling with a leftover ribbon. She had
been able to hold it together, until she’d looked over and seen tears trickling
down Sage’s cheeks.
“I miss her,” Sage had said softly. “Sometimes I miss her so
much I don’t think I can bear it.”
“Oh, honey. I know,” she had said. What else could she say? She
knew from experience no words were adequate to soothe this pain, so she had held
Sage and the two of them had cried that they would share no more Christmases
with Layla.
Today Sage hadn’t had time to grieve for her sister, too busy
shopping and cleaning and cooking. Maura was glad for that, even if Sage was
doing all this work for her father. Jack was due to arrive in half an hour for
one last evening with his daughter before he left in the morning to return to
the coast.
One more day and he would be gone. She had hardly seen him
since that first morning after he’d arrived in town, just brief moments when
he’d picked up or dropped off Sage on their way to some outing. This would be
the longest time she had spent in his company since their ill-fated breakfast at
the Center of Hope Café.
If she had her choice, she would have tried to get out of this
dinner and let Sage have a quiet evening with her father. What could she do,
though? Sage had asked her to stay, and she couldn’t find a decent excuse to
refuse.
Maybe after he left, she would be able to breathe again.
She looked around the beautifully presented dining table again,
but couldn’t see anything out of place.
“So put me to work. What can I help you do?” she asked.
Sage shook her head. “Nothing! Absolutely nothing. You’ve been
working at the store all day. Jack won’t be here for forty-five minutes. You can
go take a nap or read a book or play with Puck—whatever you want, as long as
it’s something relaxing, not working here in the kitchen with me. This is my
gift to the both of you. My parents.”
Okay, she probably shouldn’t feel so squeamish about being
lumped into that category with him. It was the truth, after all, but considering
herself a co-parent with Jack still felt so strange after all these years on
refusing to give in to the sudden burn of emotions. She knew this emptiness
would never fully go away, but the past week, the pain had seemed fresh and new.
Layla had loved the holidays. She was always the one who’d insisted on
decorating the tree the day after Thanksgiving, who would drag them out to go
caroling with the church choir through the neighborhood, who would wake up
before the sunrise on Christmas morning so she could rush in to see the pile of
presents.
Without her, the season seemed not a time of hope and renewal
but of bitter loss.
Christmas morning, three days earlier, had been particularly
poignant. She and Sage had both put on cheerful faces as they’d opened their
gifts to each other, but she could tell her daughter was feeling the same
ache.
Christmas night they had gone to the noisy, crowded McKnight
party at Mary Ella’s, where all her siblings gathered with their families.
Claire and Riley had been there with Owen and Macy, Angie and Jim, of course,
with their children, and Alex. Even her sister Rose had driven out with her
family from Utah in the middle of a snowstorm in order to make it back to Hope’s
Crossing to spend Christmas in Mary Ella’s small house.
She suspected Rose and Michael had come for her sake, to lend
emotional support on her first Christmas without Layla. While she had been
touched at the gesture and happy to see her just-older sister, she had thought a
few times that the avalanche of concern just kept piling on.
She touched the edge of a place setting and straightened the
silverware a little, remembering how when she and Sage had returned home from
the noise and craziness of the family gathering, they had sat here in the living
room by the fire, watching the lights twinkle on the tree, snowflakes gently
falling and the little shih tzu puppy wrestling with a leftover ribbon. She had
been able to hold it together, until she’d looked over and seen tears trickling
down Sage’s cheeks.
“I miss her,” Sage had said softly. “Sometimes I miss her so
much I don’t think I can bear it.”
“Oh, honey. I know,” she had said. What else could she say? She
knew from experience no words were adequate to soothe this pain, so she had held
Sage and the two of them had cried that they would share no more Christmases
with Layla.
Today Sage hadn’t had time to grieve for her sister, too busy
shopping and cleaning and cooking. Maura was glad for that, even if Sage was
doing all this work for her father. Jack was due to arrive in half an hour for
one last evening with his daughter before he left in the morning to return to
the coast.
One more day and he would be gone. She had hardly seen him
since that first morning after he’d arrived in town, just brief moments when
he’d picked up or dropped off Sage on their way to some outing. This would be
the longest time she had spent in his company since their ill-fated breakfast at
the Center of Hope Café.
If she had her choice, she would have tried to get out of this
dinner and let Sage have a quiet evening with her father. What could she do,
though? Sage had asked her to stay, and she couldn’t find a decent excuse to
refuse.
Maybe after he left, she would be able to breathe again.
She looked around the beautifully presented dining table again,
but couldn’t see anything out of place.
“So put me to work. What can I help you do?” she asked.
Sage shook her head. “Nothing! Absolutely nothing. You’ve been
working at the store all day. Jack won’t be here for forty-five minutes. You can
go take a nap or read a book or play with Puck—whatever you want, as long as
it’s something relaxing, not working here in the kitchen with me. This is my
gift to the both of you. My parents.”
Okay, she probably shouldn’t feel so squeamish about being
lumped into that category with him. It was the truth, after all, but considering
herself a co-parent with Jack still felt so strange after all these years on
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