Whisper to Me(24)

I handed her the top. “This one says, Leap and a net will appear.”

She rolled the material between her fingers and then held it up. “I never would have thought to include other local products along with mine.”

“It’ll create more of a community feel. Plus, you can cross-promote,” I said, removing a couple of the bracelets I’d purchased from an online neighborhood shop. “It might even help boost the local economy.”

“Huh, when did you get so darn smart?” she said, trying on the bracelet for size.

“I am getting my business degree for a reason,” I said, prying the lid off one of the paint cans.

“You sure are.” She gave me a one-armed hug and kissed the top of my head. “Why do you think I begged you to help me?”

I smiled and dabbed a small brush into the chocolate-brown paint before slashing across the wall.

“What do you think?” I said, taking a step backward so she could see the effect.

“I definitely like the color. Dramatic, like you pointed out,” she said. “But it’s hard to tell from that little segment.”

“Let me paint a larger section of the wall and then we’ll decide.” I dipped the brush again and this time drew longer strokes across the pale wall. Mom got busy unloading a box of her beeswax candles.

“When’s the last time you talked to your father?” I could hear the tightness in her voice.

For a while, I’d secretly been afraid that I’d caused my parents’ divorce. That what they’d gone through after my accident had placed an inordinate amount of strain on their marriage. But Mom had reminded me that they hadn’t been getting along for a long time, and that revelation had forced me to recognize the truth.

What my recovery had done was exacerbate how much my parents didn’t see eye to eye. And that’s another reason why I hadn’t put much stake in relationships in the years after. If one traumatic event had sent three guys out of my life, I figured I wouldn’t be very good at making the other parts of relationships work, either.

“I talked to Daddy yesterday,” I said, still making even brushstrokes. “We’re going to meet for lunch tomorrow.”

“Good,” she said, now arranging the Shea butter soaps on the corner display.

I wanted to ask her if she had any regrets about divorcing my father. If she truly was happy now with her new husband, John. But I’d work up to it slowly. I could always talk straight to my mom, but some subjects were touchier than others.

“So how does it feel being home?” she asked. I could hear the caution in her voice. She knew that being back in town brought on a mixed bag of feelings.

“It feels strange, to be honest,” I said, pulling out another small brush to test the other color sample.

“I understand, honey,” she said, getting to her feet and admiring her handiwork. “But time has passed, and you’ve grown into a gorgeous young lady. Nobody remembers you as that girl. Heck, I’m your mom and even I don’t recognize you anymore.”

I laughed louder than I’d intended and shook my head.

“What’s so funny?” She turned toward me and squeezed my shoulder.

“Kai said practically the same thing to me this morning,” I offered, while dabbing the new color onto the far side of the wall.

She raised her eyebrows. “He certainly knows you pretty well. What do you think he meant by it?”

There was no way in hell I was going to tell her that Kai said it after indicating he knew what I’d been doing in my free time at the university. “I think he meant that I was tougher than the last time he saw me.”

“Well, I’d certainly agree with that,” she said, and now I wondered what changes she’d noticed about me—outside of shortened visits home and phone calls that consisted only of talking about classes and news about friends.

“So it’s going okay living with your two childhood friends?” she asked. “I’ll admit I was surprised to hear that Kai was back and crashing at her place, too.”

I wasn’t about to tell her why Kai had returned so suddenly. She’d find out eventually, anyway. Somehow I felt protective over him, maybe the same way he’d been over me.

“It’s great,” I said. “Who wouldn’t want an apartment with that view?”

“True,” Mom said. “They’ve always been good kids. And hopefully Kai has matured over the past few years as well?”

Oh, he’s matured all right, I’d wanted to say, but I held my tongue.

“I think so,” I said.

I thought about my childhood with Kai and felt that fear in the pit of my stomach again about ruining things with him.