"Easier," I say, letting the word sit on my tongue while I try to figure out how to answer. "A little. Maybe. I mean we're trying. Or, at least, we're trying to try." I lift a shoulder. "We miss each other a lot, we really do. But I'm starting to think that we're never going to get past what happened."
"You two used to be so close," she says with a sigh. "Two peas in a pod. And then--well, it's just so unfair that something neither of you had any control over could change the direction of your lives like that."
"Yeah, but not much about a kidnapping is fair."
"Mmm," she says, and for some reason I get the impression that we're talking at cross-purposes.
But before I can press, Mom hooks her arm through mine and starts heading to the boardwalk. "I hope you know how proud I am of you."
I grin up at her. "Is this our annual mother-daughter talk?"
She bumps me with her hip as we walk down the boards toward the beach. "Don't be impertinent when I'm being serious." She pauses and draws me to a stop with her. "You've had to overcome a lot, baby. And I know that Eli and I weren't--"
She cuts herself off and frowns as she closes her eyes, takes a breath, and then begins again. "The kidnapping destroyed your father and me, too, and while that is no excuse, I know we weren't there for you as much as we should have been afterward. I still look back on those days, and all I recall is feeling numb."
"Do you think I don't understand that?"
"I just--I just wanted to say that at the time I was hurt when you wanted to leave and go away to school. And that was unfair of me. I was still raw from the battle with Colin, and I knew he hated me for asking the court to terminate his parental rights. And then just three years later when I wanted you home where I could pamper you, there you were asking to go live near him. I was angry and I was confused and I was hurt."
"Mom." I swallow. I've sort of known all that, but she's never outright told me before. "I just couldn't be around Dallas. Seeing him every day. Remembering every day."
I drag my toes across the sand-covered boards remembering how I'd snuck into Dallas's room the first night he'd been home. I'd spooned against his back and just held tight. I'd wanted more--so much more--and I know he did, too. But when I'd whispered his name, he'd shaken his head. "I can't," he said. "We can't."
He'd rolled over to face me, and I saw the pain in his eyes. "What we had inside, we can't have it anymore. You know we can't."
"I know," I'd whispered. "But--"
He'd shut me up with a kiss. Our last kiss for a long, long time. "It has to stay locked up, Jane. If our parents found out...hell, if anyone found out."
I closed my eyes, but I nodded. Because he was right. We were free, and that was good. But what we'd shared had been left behind, locked up inside those dank, gray walls. And that simple truth had come close to destroying me.
The next week, I'd begged my mom to enrol
l me in boarding school near Colin. And, thankfully, she'd reluctantly agreed.
"It was never about getting away from you and Dad," I tell her now. "You know that, right? It was just that Dallas--"
"Was a reminder. I understand. I do. I did back then, too. And I wanted the best for you. I was glad you could get away, go to a place where you could heal. But sometimes even when we know we're doing the best for our kids it still hurts. I wanted to be the one to kiss you and make it better."
"Mom." I blink away tears. "You always do."
She starts walking again. "I really didn't bring any of this up because I thought we needed an emotional cleansing. I just wanted to say that now things are different. For me, I mean. I understand that Colin was there for you in a way I couldn't be. And the truth is that I will always be grateful to him for that. He could have walked away. From you. From all of it. But he didn't. He stepped up to the plate. And even though he and I don't talk anymore, I thought you should know that I am grateful to him for that. And that I really am glad that you and he have a relationship."
My chest feels tight, and I nod, afraid to speak in case I start to cry.
"You okay?"
"I love you, Mom," I say and start leaking tears.
"Well, good." She hugs me, and I cling tight. "Because I love you, too."
When we break apart, we walk off the boardwalk and onto the sand. She points north, up the beach. "Walk with me?" she asks. "We can look for seashells."
"I'd love to," I say. And even though I know that my mom may never know all the secrets of my heart, I don't doubt that she loves me. And in this moment at least, I'm content to do nothing more than hang with her for a while.
--
I'm tossing the last of the toiletries in my weekender bag when Liam calls from the front of the bungalow where I've left the front door open for him, as he'd promised to swing by with a couple of beers.