A Mother's Wish / Mother To Be: A Mother's Wish. Karen Templeton
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“For having cojones? Yes. What’s so funny?”
“Never heard that word with an Irish accent, that’s all. But tell her thank you.”
“That doesn’t mean she’s necessarily on your side.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.” When Aidan’s brows lifted, she said, “Flo’s obviously very loyal to you. All of you,” she added, backing up slightly when Thea brought them their food, then left to chat up a good-looking cowboy who’d just come in to pick up a take-out order, or so it looked like. She was all smiles; he wasn’t, doing the whole eye-avoidance thing that spelled doom with a capital D, and Winnie, who’d been on the receiving end of that little scenario more times than she could count, thought, Uh-oh. Then he left, shoulders hunched with apology, and Thea’s eyes touched Winnie’s, full of hurt and confusion and embarrassment, before she disappeared through the archway marked Restrooms.
“That she is,” Aidan said, and Winnie thought, What? Oh. Flo. Right.
She dug into her fried potatoes. “Which is how it should be. So it wasn’t like I was sensing any real support from that camp. Still, I’m a big believer in fate.”
Aidan paused, his fork suspended over his own huevos rancheros. “Willing something to happen isn’t the same thing as fate.”
Again, Winnie laughed, the food too good to stop eating. “Oh, honey…believe me, you’d know if I was being willful. This doesn’t even come close.” She leaned forward to butter a piece of toast, thinking that sometimes nothing hits the spot like a perfectly toasted piece of white bread drenched in butter. “And anyway, nobody told you to call me.”
His eyes dipped to his breakfast, but not fast enough for her to miss his blush. “So this is my doing, is it?”
“Works for me.”
Apparently stymied, at least for the moment, Aidan seemed unable to tear his gaze away from Winnie’s slathering her omelet with copious amounts of thick, fragrant salsa.
“You might want t’go a little easy with that. It’s not for wimps.”
“I think I can handle it,” she said, thinking maybe she was talking about more than salsa. She forked in a large bite of eggs—the stuff definitely had a kick, but she’d had hotter. “And you know, if this really is about gettin’ to know me, you’ll have to take at least some of it on face value, since it’s not like I’ve got a half-dozen character witnesses in my back pocket. But I swear, I didn’t come here to mess with anybody’s head.” The salsa hit the pit of her stomach with a small explosion. “Least of all Robbie’s. And I also swear…”
“What?”
Winnie chewed for a moment, thinking that while she could probably B.S. her way through this little interview, in the long run what would be the point?
“Okay,” she said, noting that Aidan seemed suitably impressed that she hadn’t sucked down half a glass of water to douse the flames, “this probably isn’t gonna earn me any points, seeing as you already think I’m a couple bricks shy of a load as it is. But since you brought up the whole human will thing? I didn’t exactly decide to come out here.”
“What you said about not having any family left notwithstanding. ”
“Oh, that was—is—true enough. Only that alone wouldn’t’ve been enough to make me do something like this. But a couple days after my grandmother died…” She blew out a breath. “It was almost like I heard…a voice. Although not a voice, voice, more like…a real strong feeling. That I had to come here.” At his what-kind-of-fool-do-you-take-me-for? expression, she shrugged. “I know. Elektra thought I was nuts, too. So there’s another tick mark in your column.”
“Elektra?”
“She runs my grandmother’s diner. My diner now, I guess.”
“You don’t sound exactly thrilled.”
“Yeah, well, it’s not like I just inherited a chain of five-star hotels or anything. And I know I should be grateful. It’ll never make me rich, but that’s okay, I wouldn’t know what to do with rich if it bit me in the butt. It’s just not…me.”
“And what is…you?” he asked, unsmiling.
“I think maybe I want to work with kids—I’ve got my teaching degree, I just have to get certified—but I haven’t had five minutes to myself to think about it.” Then she let out a sound that was equal parts laugh and sigh. “And here I’m supposed to be at least trying to make a decent impression. But you know what? I am who I am, either you deal with that or you don’t. I may be a bit on the flaky side, but I’m not a bad person. Not anymore.”
“Anymore?”
“Oh, come on—when we met, I’m sure I must’ve looked like I had the devil’s mark on me. I sure felt that way at times. Although,” she said, waving her fork, “I was not a rebel without a cause. Or at least a reason.”
“You got pregnant on purpose?”
At least he looked more intrigued than judgmental, for what that was worth. “If I say I’m not sure,” Winnie said, “it’s not because I’m trying to evade the question, okay? It’s because after all this time I still don’t know.” Frowning, she finally took that sip of water, then met his gaze. “Mostly I wanted to make my own decisions, about my own life. Even if they were stupid. But I’m not that person anymore, Aidan, you’ve got to believe that.” She sucked in a long, shuddering breath. “I swear.”
The tremor of sympathy happened before Aidan could squelch it. Oh, he definitely remembered the Winnie from back then, those big blue eyes bleeding a mixture of anger and fear and resentment. But most of all, an unfathomable sadness that, even then, had burned something inside Aidan. He remembered how wrong it had felt, that his and June’s happiness should be predicated on someone else’s misery.
“And how, exactly, d’you think you’ve changed?”
“Well…for one thing,” she said after a moment, “I’ve stopped making myself the victim of my own anger. Took a while, though, before it finally dawned on me that trying to hurt somebody else is a surefire way of hurting yourself more. But until I got to that point…” She stared at her plate, her breathing hard, and Aidan waited out the next wave of sympathy. “Who knew it would be so much harder to love myself than my grandmother?”
“She didn’t exactly strike me as the warm fuzzy type,” Aidan said quietly, and Winnie snorted.
“That’s what fear’ll do to a person, I suppose. She was so afraid I’d go off half-cocked like she was convinced my mother did. Ida couldn’t help being strict, that’s just how she was raised herself. But every time she said…” Her face tilted toward the window; Aidan saw her swallow. “Every time she said, ‘You’re just like your mother,’ the more I figured, what the hell, she already thinks the worst of me, might as well live up to her expectations.”
Aidan’s stomach clenched. “And what did she mean by that? Your being just like your mother?”
Winnie’s mouth curved into a wry smile. “I gathered Mama was stubborn as all get-out, too. She apparently bucked my grandmother every chance she got, the crowning touch being to elope with my father the second she turned eighteen.” Her eyes veered to Aidan’s. “I remember Daddy being a good man. Kind. He just wasn’t real successful, if you get my drift. I’m sure Ida saw Mama’s ‘bad choice’ as her own failure, but growing up, all I knew was that my grandmother constantly bad-mouthed the people I’d loved most in the world. It didn’t sit well.”
Their breakfasts and their surroundings all but forgotten, Aidan caught himself a split second before he stumbled head-on into the now dry-eyed gaze in front of him. While he knew Winnie wasn’t playing him for a con, anger still swamped him with an intensity bordering on painful.