That First Special Kiss

And then he cleared his throat “My mother died Thursday. I found out this morning.”

She didn’t know what to say in response to his quiet announcement. Though she had become well acquainted with Shane’s father, stepmother and young half sister, she had heard very little about his biological mother. She had been told that his mother was an alcoholic and that Shane had been so unhappy in her custody after his parents’ divorce that he had run away from home when he was only twelve. He had somehow survived on the streets of Memphis, Tennessee, for two weeks before his distraught father had found him. Shane had never lived with his mother again after that. Kelly wasn’t sure he had even seen her since.

Because she didn’t know how he would respond to words of sympathy, she asked instead, “How did you find out?”

“Her sister called Dad and asked him to tell me. I didn’t mention it to the others tonight because I didn’t want to talk about it then, but I wanted you to know.”

She was touched. She only wished she knew what to say. “I could tell something was upsetting you earlier, but I didn’t mean to pry.”

He smiled at her and laid his hand over hers, which rested on her knee. “You weren’t prying. You were concerned—and I appreciate it.”

Kelly entwined her fingers with his, offering comfort she sensed he needed. “How do you feel now?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted after a moment. “A little sad, I guess. Her life was such a mess—such a waste. She was only forty-eight. She should have had many years ahead of her, but she ruined her health with her drinking.”

He hesitated another moment, then added, “And I guess I feel a little guilty.”

Startled, Kelly frowned. ‘Why on earth would you feel guilty?”

“It’s hard to explain. It’s just that—well, I’ve had a good life with Dad and Cassie and Molly. We’ve had each other, and Dad’s and Cassie’s extended families. We’ve been happy at the ranch. My mother was never happy.”

Kelly tightened her fingers. “Shane, your mother made her own choices. I know little of your family history, but you told me once that your father tried very hard to help her with her alcoholism. You said she simply wasn’t willing to give it up. She chose addiction over the sort of happiness you and your father found. It was a waste, and a very sad one—but you shouldn’t feel guilty about choices that were made when you were just a child.”

Shane leaned against the back of the couch, his gaze still unfocused as he concentrated on his somber thoughts. “I went to see her a couple of years ago right after my twenty-fifth birthday.”

“I didn’t know.”

He shook his head. “I didn’t tell anyone but Dad and Cassie. It was something I hadn’t wanted to do before, but I finally felt co

mpelled to make an effort. I still had so much anger against her, so much resentment—and I thought it was time to let it go. I thought there might even be a chance that I could help her.”

Kelly could tell by Shane’s voice that the reunion hadn’t gone well. “The meeting didn’t work out as you had hoped.”

It hadn’t been a question, but he answered it anyway, with a shake of his head. “She made it very clear that she hadn’t thought of me as her son since I left her to live with my father. She said I was just like him—and she didn’t want either of us trying to interfere in her life. And then she poured herself a drink and asked me to leave.”

“I’m sorry.” The words were inadequate, but the only ones she had.

He shrugged. “She didn’t realize it, but she gave me one very high compliment. She said I was just like my dad.”

Kelly had always been a bit envious of the intensely close relationship between Shane and his father. She hadn’t seen her own career air force father in years. Perhaps that was one of the reasons she’d always felt close to Shane—she knew what it was like to be rejected by a parent. But at least Shane had his father. Kelly’s mother had died when Kelly was a young girl, leaving her to be raised in a foster home.

As if suddenly aware of how much he’d revealed to her, Shane sat up straight and cleared his expression, one corner of his mouth lifting into his usual indolent smile. “Thanks for the coffee and sympathy, but I’d better go. It’s late.”

Oddly reluctant to break the rare moment of intimacy, she forced herself to smile. “Both the coffee and the sympathy are available whenever you need them.”

Still holding her band, he stood and pulled her to her feet. “You’re a good friend, Kelly Morrison.”

Her reaction to his words was inexplicably bittersweet, but the smile she gave him was genuine. “You’ve been a good friend to me, too, Shane Walker.”

“Walk me to the door?” he asked, tucking her hand beneath his arm.

Privately relishing the feel of work-hardened muscles beneath the fabric of his sleeve, she matched her steps to his as they crossed the small room. Shane stopped at the curvy oak coat rack beside the door to retrieve his jacket and hat. She watched as he donned his jacket, and then she asked, “Will there be a funeral for your mother?”

He shook his head. “Her sister arranged a private cremation. It was all over before she even called Dad. There was no estate to settle, so there’s nothing for Dad or me to do now.”

He seemed to have shaken off the hint of depression she’d noticed earlier, replacing it with a stoic acceptance of his mother’s sad fate. Kelly hoped it had helped him just to talk about his feelings to someone who cared about him, and who could understand his mixed emotions about a long-absent parent.

“Good night, Shane. Drive carefully.”