This was her mother’s domain, and the neutral colors and clean, bare counters proved as much. Ellen tended to leave a mess in her wake, whereas Judith cleaned while she went. Despite making a homemade meal, Judith had left not even a trace of flour on the counter. The room was pristine. Sterile.
She hated to admit she’d kept her home closer to Judith’s style than Ellen’s. Carol had inherited her mother’s need for cleanliness and order. She’d always hated that about herself but had never been able to change. Maybe now that her living quarters were barely bigger than a van, she could finally learn to live with signs of disorder. She doubted that, though.
“Hey, Mom,” Carol said with a forced smile and more excitement than she felt.
Judith lifted her face and smiled, too, but the corners of her mouth wavered as a crease formed between her brows. Even though her mom was in her midseventies now, Carol could easily picture how she looked years ago with their piercing blue eyes, full lips, and narrow nose. Her age hadn’t softened her heart or her sharp appearance. She still wore her long hair pulled back in a bun, though the strands were white now instead of the light brown she’d shared with her daughter.
“You’re not sick, are you?” Judith asked.
And that was the extent of the warm welcome, which really was about as much as Carol was expecting. “No.”
“You shouldn’t be here if you’re sick.”
“I’m not sick. I’m tired. I’ve been on the road.” She stepped closer, but the way Judith reared back caused Carol to stop. Her obvious aversion to embracing her daughter stung.
“Wash, please,” Judith said.
Carol let the request sink in for a few seconds before turning toward the restroom. This wasn’t anything new. Judith had never been warm and affectionate. Ever. In fact, if she had smiled and opened her arms like Ellen, Carol would have been the one pulling away with hesitation.
As she washed, Carol pictured the one thing she was counting on to keep her grounded over the next few weeks.
Tobias had filled their backyard in Houston with a variety of flowers. He would spend hours trimming and pruning and talking to the plants as she sat at the little wrought-iron table reading and sipping wine. If Carol cleared her mind enough, she could take herself back there. As a warm breeze brushed her cheeks, she could hear his deep, soothing voice and smell the sweetness of Salvia dorisiana, one of the varieties of fruit-scented sage he’d loved so much.
Those were some of the happiest moments Carol could recall, and she clung to them like the lifeline they’d become. She was going to need that lifeline to get her through forcing her apathetic mother to face their broken relationship.
“What the hell am I doing?” she muttered, grabbing the pristine white hand towel embellished with her mom’s signature needlework. Carol took her time wiping the water from her hands and face before staring at her reflection.
Part of her wanted to walk out there and announce she’d changed her mind about how long she intended to stay. She’d hang out for a day, maybe two, and then be on her way. But she was here with a purpose, one she couldn’t walk away from. Facing the chasm between them was the only way to cross it. She couldn’t run from her past forever.
The last few months had taught her a brutal lesson—the past always came back to be resolved. She had to work this out while she could. Life had shown her time and time again that people could be ripped away without warning. Her mother was older—time was running out.
“You can do this,” she told herself before folding and rehanging the cloth precisely how it’d been before she’d dried her hands and face.
Back in the kitchen, Carol stopped at her mom’s side. “It’s nice to see you.”
“You too,” Judith said, though her attention remained on the soup.
“So you’re one of us old retirees now,” Ellen said, busying herself with fixing a pot of coffee. Though she hadn’t looked at Carol as she’d spoken either, her lack of eye contact didn’t feel nearly as deliberate as Judith’s.
“I am.” Carol tried to not overanalyze the slight she felt, but her mother’s cold shoulder was already irritating her. She hadn’t been in the house for five minutes yet, not nearly enough time to start reading too much into her mother’s behavior.