Something About Harry(82)

Mara’s heart felt like it was in a vise grip. She knew what it was to miss the influence of a female presence at a young age. She ached for Mimi and the loss she’d suffered.

But she decided not to avoid the issue of talking about Donna the way her brothers had avoided talking about their parents’ death. In their efforts to soothe her, they hadn’t allowed her to mourn. They’d rushed in to protect her, but sharing her feelings with two boys was awkward, and while they hadn’t discouraged it, they hadn’t inspired it, either.

So Mara followed Nina’s lead in, believing that silence led to fear and misunderstanding. She wanted Mimi to remember, and when the pain wasn’t so fresh and she understood loss from a more mature perspective, she hoped Mimi would fondly recall sharing all the wonderful things she’d loved about her mother. “You absolutely can miss her, fancy pants. She was a great mother. Your Uncle Harry told me. Maybe sometime, you can tell me all the things that were great about her, too. I’d love to hear them all.”

Mimi set her gaze toward the purple streaks blazing across the sky, signaling that nightfall was coming. Her lower lip trembled. “Do you think she can see us?”

Mara squeezed Mimi’s gloved hand, tucking her jacket around her neck. “I think she can. I think she can see that you’re trying so hard to be good for your uncle.”

Mimi nodded, but it was slow. “Uncle Harry’s always too busy to talk about Mommy.”

Ah, the run, hide, and divert tactic. To avoid experiencing his own personal pain, Harry’d shut everyone else down in the sharing process, too. “Know what I think? I think Uncle Harry might not be so good at talking about your mom because he loved her so, so much. For some people, it hurts to remember. But he told me she was the best sister ever, and he really liked your daddy. So next time you want to talk to him about your mom, how about you just ask him if it’s okay for you to miss Mommy together? Oh, and be sure to give him a big hug when you do. He loves hugs.”

A tear slipped from Mimi’s eye, making it painfully clear she was trying to remain stoic in light of the fact that the one person left in the world who was closest to her couldn’t open up. “Bet Mommy has the biggest, sparkliest angel wings ever.”

“Bet where Mommy is they have purple wings that sparkle, all shiny when they flap.” Mara made a flapping motion with her arms, making Mimi giggle.

Moments later, the floodgates opened, her round eyes fell to the snow-covered ground. “I miss her.”

Mara fought a wave of her own tears. Mimi was so small against the backdrop of the enormous landscape behind her, her genuine sorrow making her look even more vulnerable. Mara gathered her close. “So why don’t you tell her that?”

Mimi shrugged as if the idea were pointless—useless. “She can’t hear me.”

“I dunno. I talk to my mom all the time. She might not answer, but I like to think she hears me.”

“Did she died-ed, too?”

Mara’s heart shifted, but she smiled anyway, caught in the grip of this child’s desperate wish to find peace. “She did die. My father, too. I was sad just like you.”

Mimi’s gaze up at her was full of innocent hope. “But you seem really happy now.”

If only happiness were as simple at her age as it was at Mimi’s. She wanted Mimi to always have that. No matter what life threw at her, it was okay to hope love would always win. “That’s because I know my mom’s keeping your mom company, and they’re up there talking about sparkly wings and wishing us happy thoughts while they miss us, too.”

Mimi let her head rest against Mara’s hip, putting her arm around her thigh. “I like that.”

Mara squeezed her shoulders and fought a shudder of breath. “Me, too, Miss Mimi.”

“I like you.”

She blinked to erase any sign of impending tears, glancing down at this small child, fighting to find a way to survive such tragedy. “Really? You do? I guess I like you okay enough,” Mara teased, dragging a finger down Mimi’s freckled nose, making her squeal. She held out her hand. “C’mon, let’s go back to the cottage and see if Carl’s made us some cabbage soup for dinner. Yum-yum, cabbage. Whaddya say to that?”

She wrinkled her bright red nose and made a face. “That is so gross. Cabbage is stinky. But I like Carl, even if he is a weird color.”

Mara burst out laughing at the irony of her childish statement.

If Mimi only knew the half of it.


* * *


WITH the children gone back to Wanda’s, and Nina and Carl visiting with Marty and Keegan, the silence of the cottage became profoundly obvious.