“Don’t think I can.”
“Yes, you can. You’re strong, Lauren, so much stronger than you think.”
Lauren heard what her sister was saying but she couldn’t go there, not yet, and so she shook her head.
Maybe one day she could date.
Maybe one day she could feel pretty and sexy.
But it wasn’t now. Wasn’t yet.
“Don’t shake your head. Don’t do that. You’re thirty-five, Lauren. Don’t you want to have more? A husband . . . a family—”
“I had a family.”
Lisa’s eyes clouded. “No one can ever replace Blake. No one will ever replace him. Not in your heart. Or mine. Or Mom and Dad’s. We all loved him. He was everyone’s boy.” Her voice cracked and she drew a slow, deep breath. “But that boy wasn’t a sponge. He didn’t just take love. He gave it back. One hundred percent. And Lord, Lauren, he loved you. You say he was the sun, but you were his sun and moon and he wasn’t even going to go away to go to college because he couldn’t bear leaving you alone.”
Lauren bowed her head, unable to breathe, unable to think, unable to see.
It hurt. Badly. And she wanted her boy. She wanted him back. She’d give anything to have him back, and yet she knew that was impossible. But it didn’t stop her from dreaming. Didn’t stop her from needing, craving, aching.
They said a mother’s love was endless, bottomless, and it was true. Even with Blake gone, the love went on and on. Just as it always would. The love made him real, and it was all she had left of him.
This deep ache.
This pain.
This burn.
“I just wish I could talk to him, see him,” Lauren whispered, arms bundled tightly over her chest. “Make sure he’s okay.”
“He’s okay,” Lisa answered huskily.
Lauren lifted her head. Audrey had also stopped nursing and was listening intently.
“How do you know?” Lauren asked.
“He’s on the other side. With Grandma and Grandpa, and you know they’re taking care of him. You know how they loved him when he was a baby, always fighting Mom and Dad for a chance to take care of him.”
Lauren swallowed hard and smiled through her tears. “Everybody loved him.”
“Everybody. And he’s still loved, and I bet all he wants is for you to be loved. It’s what he always wanted for you. To have someone to take care of you after he was gone.”
Lauren’s lower lip trembled and she bit into it. “But I didn’t need anyone else. I had Blake.”
“Children don’t stay with us forever. They grow up, they move out, they sometimes move far away. Come on, Lauren, baby, can’t you see it . . . can’t you understand that Blake was never meant to be your everything? Yes, you loved him, yes, you adored him, but he wasn’t you. He was just part of you, and the rest of you now has to go on.”
Fourteen
Monday morning came way too early.
Lauren turned off her alarm three times before finally throwing back the covers and dragging herself to the shower. Four A.M. was too early, she groused. Four was insane.
In the shower she washed her hair and rinsed it in cold water, needing the chilly temperature to wake her up and shake off her lethargic mood.
Four cakes today, she told herself, drying her hair. Four cakes, five pies, and if she found the time, bread pudding. She hadn’t made bread pudding for Mama’s yet, but it was a natural. A rich bread pudding laced with golden raisins and topped with a warm praline bourbon sauce.
But riding her bike to work, Lauren knew why she was making bread pudding. It was for Boone. The A’s were supposed to be back in town today.
Lisa would be so disgusted.
Lauren put Lisa out of her mind.
Phyllis was already at the café when she arrived. “Five minutes late,” the waitress chided, but she was smiling. She’d begun to come in a half hour early to help Lauren with the baking. Turned out she had a gift for piecrust and cream fillings. “First time this year. What did you do last night? Have a date?”
Lauren unlocked the restaurant and held the door open for Phyllis. “No. But I was in Napa for the weekend.”
“How’s that baby?” Phyllis asked, rolling up her sleeves in the kitchen and preparing to get to work.
“Gorgeous. Giving me massive baby cravings.”
Phyllis shot her a swift glance. “You like kids?”
Lauren pictured seventeen-year-old Blake stretched out on the sofa watching TV, all lanky and long, his limbs hanging off the faded cushions, his hand buried in a cereal box. Come watch this, Mom, it’s funny. Of course the segment was never funny, just gross. Boys.
Lauren took a quick breath. “I do.”