The Mills & Boon Christmas Wishes Collection. Maisey Yates
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good,” she said. “I’ve been a bit rundown, before you go pestering me about why I haven’t been out to see you.”
“I’m not here to pester you. I just wanted to visit. Maybe we could have lunch? Make a pot of soup to warm us up?” Something, anything, to make her eat.
I stepped past and went to the kitchen, checking the contents of the fridge. Mom was the type who lived on bare necessities if she didn’t feel like facing the world, and guilt gnawed away at me, making my gut roil. Why did I always presume she’d be OK, when I knew damn well how fragile she was? I played the should have game with myself while I searched for ingredients. Should have come over sooner, should have called more, should have…
The world was a lonely place sometimes, especially for people like Mom, and I grieved for the life she should have had. A happy one, full of friendships, and laughter, and love. But instead she’d lost her husband and that had changed everything. My mom, who had always been a little vague, had become reclusive. I was young, but I remembered it well, because it had been like someone had switched a light off and things had become very murky at home, save for Aunt Bessie’s visits. As I’d got older and understood her grief better, I’d recognized the signs of someone fighting an internal battle every day, just barely holding on. Eating was a struggle for her, cleaning compulsive, her behavior erratic but excused as someone who was trying her hardest to stay here in the present.
Staring into the fridge I wasn’t surprised to find it only held a range of condiments, half a liter of milk, and little else.
“Why don’t I go to the store and buy some fresh fruit and vegetables? We can make a pot of hearty winter soup? We can freeze portions so you don’t have to cook if you don’t feel like it.” Mom’s cooking capabilities were on a level with mine so she never said much about the quality of our meals.
“If you want to, Clio. But aren’t you busy with… things at the moment?”
“Not too busy for you, Mom.”
Her bottom lip twitched ever so slightly. “Well, then, that would be nice.”
I swallowed a lump in my throat, sensing we had taken the first step. Normally she’d have said no outright, craving her solitude. Slowly but surely it felt like the walls were coming down and maybe her health concerns weren’t because I’d moved home. Baby steps were the way forward, and being careful not to upset the fine balance we were eking out together.
“Want to come with me?”
“No, no. I’ll wait here. I’ll… tidy the kitchen so we can cook.”
I gazed around the pristine benches and said, “OK. I won’t be long.”
“Take your time. I’ve got some washing that needs hanging up too.”
Mom couldn’t relax if her chores weren’t done. When the washing machine beeped its end-of-cycle warning, the laundry had to be hung up to dry – it couldn’t wait an hour, it couldn’t wait a minute. As soon as it was dry, it was ironed, with creases so sharp they could take an eye out. The garden was immaculate, the car polished to a shine. Mom’s manic need to keep busy was almost a penance she did every day. Whenever we sat for five minutes you could see her gripping the arm of the chair, not ever able to fully relax. It must have been exhausting.
I kissed her cheek, trying not to notice how hollow it was, “OK, then. Back soon.” Soup and maybe a glass of wine might help. I was determined to make her rest and recover and get used to the typical family routines that were so foreign to us.
In town, I grabbed a bunch of fresh of ingredients, and some extra pantry items to stock up Mom’s shelves for the week. As the library was within walking distance from where I’d parked I decided to stash the groceries and head in. I’d only be a few minutes tops, and the library was still open – what harm could it do? I’d quickly check their archives, and if there was anything of interest on Cedarwood Lodge I’d come back later when I had more time.
The Evergreen library was silent bar a faint muffle, like a snore. Was someone sleeping here? The smell of old books, earthy and musty, was heavy in the air. I found the front desk and waited. A slim woman wearing a knitted pullover and jeans wandered over, smiling. I recognized her immediately, even though I hadn’t seen her for a decade or so. My high-school friend Bennie’s mom, Debra.
“Well, look who it is! Bennie told me he caught up with you recently. The old gang back together…”
I smiled at the memory. It had been great catching up with my friends when I first came back to town, and I made a mental note to reach out and arrange another get-together soon. “Yeah, after an hour and a few beers, it was like I’d never left. We just slotted back into the same place as before. How have you been, Mrs Talbot?”
“Good, thanks, Clio, and you? I heard you’ve made the old lodge into something pretty special once again.”
“Yeah, it’s going great, thanks! So much still to do, but I have high hopes we’ll get more of the outbuildings renovated soon. What about you? Been busy?” It hit me what an inane question that was in a town this size.
She tucked a tendril of hair back. “I know it might not look like it now…” She gestured around the empty library. “…But we’ve been as busy as bees these last few weeks.”
I couldn’t see any other staff, just an old fluffy dog curled up by the fire, snoring merrily away. Ah, he was the culprit.
“Your assistant?” I motioned to the pooch.
She gave me a wide smile. “Bennie tells everyone I’m the head librarian. What he neglects to mention is I’m the only human one. Rufus here is my assistant and a fine one at that.” She bent and gave the dog a chuck under the chin – he rolled on his back and waited patiently for another pat.
I laughed, forgetting how quiet the town could be. Dogs for assistants – not something you’d have seen in New York.
“As nice as it is to see you, I can’t imagine you’ve come all this way just to have a chat with me. What can I do for you? Want some reading material for these long winter nights?
“I’m not here for books for myself, Debra. I wanted to search the archives. I’m particularly interested in anything you might have about Cedarwood Lodge, any newspaper articles, or maybe historical references.” Debra’s smile vanished. She was gazing at me like the shutters had come down.
Double-blinking and bringing herself back she said, with a fluttery little laugh, “Oh, Clio… I don’t think we have anything at all like that.”
I smiled, trying not to take it personally. I knew Evergreen locals weren’t keen on revisiting the past but I had hoped they wouldn’t stop me outright from investigating it for myself. “Would you mind checking? You might have something tucked away that’s been forgotten.”
The air in the room thickened with tension as Debra stepped behind the desk, putting distance between us.
“We’ve just updated our archives and I’m certain there’s nothing pertaining to Cedarwood. If I find anything, how about I give you a call?” She gave me a wide smile and picked up a duster, as if signaling the conversation was over.
“I’m happy to wait.” I followed as dust motes danced in her wake.
With a barely suppressed sigh she spun to face me. “I’d love to help, Clio, but sometimes things in the library get lost. They go missing.” She stared intently at me, and I knew she didn’t mean misplaced books. “Sometimes the best thing to do, the only thing, is to understand that perhaps they’re better off forgotten and just live in the now. If you get what I’m saying.”
The warning was loud and clear, and part of me wanted to just walk away and leave the past buried, but I had an overwhelming feeling that if I found out what had happened I’d be able to understand my mom better. That maybe it was the missing piece of the puzzle, and with that last piece I’d finally understand