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Promise Me This(52)

By:Christina Lee


Unfortunately Dad’s illness had burdened Mom with tons of medical expenses and even though his life insurance helped, little else had been left. We’d never been rich, maybe not even comfortable most of the time, but we were happy. And we made do with what we had.

“Your dad would be proud, you know,” she said, swiping my hair behind my ear. “That you’re using his camera and pursuing photography.”

Mom was a spiritual person—you’d have to be to practice Reiki, just like her mother had before her—and she always said she felt Dad around her. I felt him too, but it was more in the advice he gave, the lessons he taught.

“It’s in my blood,” I said and pulled out a chair to sit down. “Just like it was for him.”

She nodded and sipped her tea, pleased with my answer.

“So tell me more about Nate.”

“You know Nate. I’ve mentioned him before.” My stomach tightened. “He grew up in Bridgeway, so he knew where all the cool bridges were.”

“And?” her eyebrow arched.

“And what?” I asked wondering what she was getting at.

“There’s something you’re not saying,” she said, placing her fingers on my arm. “Your energy changed as soon as I mentioned him.”

I couldn’t get anything past my mother. She had a rare gift for reading people. Her customers had stayed with her for years. She could lay her hands on your skin and practically see straight inside your soul. She’d been the first to feel the cancer energy inside my dad. But then it spread too rapidly.

“We’ve always been casual friends,” I said. “And I never really took him very seriously. But on the ride up we got to know each other better and . . . I began seeing him differently.”

“If only people took the time to do that, before passing judgment,” she said. “They’d see we all have the same simple truths hidden beneath the surface.”

My parents had always believed in acceptance and equality across the board and they were pretty hard to hold a candle to. I only hoped to have the same strength and wisdom.

We lapsed into a comfortable silence, me reading the headlines from the newspaper sitting on the table and Mom staring out the window at the bird feeder, lost in her own thoughts. I wanted to tell Mom more, tell her everything that happened between Nate and me, but I wasn’t exactly sure if I understood it all myself. Not yet.

So . . . what else happened on this road trip?” she finally asked, her eyes seeking mine.

“The more I got to know him, the closer I felt, and . . . I realized how attracted I was to him,” I said, being completely honest. “I even told him a few things about Dad.”

“Oh, honey,” she said, her eyes growing moist as she reached out to touch my hand.

“And then my tire blew out and we had to stay over to get it fixed in the morning.” I sighed. “We ate dinner, went to some country bar, and had a ball together.”

My mother waited on me to say what I was essentially trying to avoid.

“We . . . we kissed,” I said, running my hand over the back of my neck. “And it was, whoa.”

My mother brushed my hair away from my face. “You did more than kiss, honey.”

I nodded, my cheeks heating up. Even though I’d always been free to talk to my parents about anything, discussing sex was still pretty uncomfortable.

“Well?”

“It was kind of . . . amazing,” I said, biting my lip.

“But?” she stood and dumped her remaining tea in the sink.

“He kind of freaked out after that,” I said. “Almost like he was afraid of his own shadow.”

My mother’s eyebrows etched in concern. “Why do you think?”

“I think he’s had a really rough childhood, where he wasn’t treated all that great and it’s affected his relationships with other people,” I said keeping away from the gritty details of Nate’s family history.

“Oh honey, I’m sorry,” she said. “So now what?”

“So now nothing.” I shrugged. “It all started making sense, why he was never with any girls, at least not for more than a night, if that.”

“He’s got a lot to work out.”

“Yeah,” I said. “So, it was fun and I’ll continue to be his friend.”

She weaved her fingers through mine. “You’ve got to protect your heart too, you know.”

“I will,” I said.

My brother bounded down the stairs in his jeans and football T-shirt. He had sprung up in the last year and now towered over both my mother and me. He was a good-looking kid with a decent head on his shoulders, just like my dad.