“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Shay said, so glad her mother had found something she enjoyed. “But actually,” she began, swallowing her nerves, “can I talk to you about something?”
Sharon set the knife down and studied Shay more closely. “What’s wrong, honey?”
“I just… Can we sit down?”
“Sure, sweetie,” she said, wiping her hands on a towel. She headed to the kitchen table and sat at the end, Shay to her left. Sharon touched Shay’s hand where it rested on the table. “Oh, dear,” she said. “I can see now how upset you are. What’s troubling you so fiercely?”
Shay drew a breath and just said it. “I’m in love with Caleb.”
Sharon stared at her a moment and then sat back in her chair and chuckled. “You’ve had a thing for Caleb since you were a teenager.”
“No, Mom. I am in love with him. Not a teenage crush. Love. I love him.”
“I know,” Sharon said, as if this were yesterday’s news. “Does he?”
“I…well…” She frowned, baffled. “You knew?”
“Of course, I knew. And if I have any inkling of a clue, and I usually do, he’s in love with you, too. Is he?”
“He says he is.”
“Wonderful,” she exclaimed. “So why do you look like someone just took away your dessert?”
“I can’t believe you don’t see why this is a problem.”
“Caleb is a wonderful man, good-hearted. Protective, too. And such a gentleman.” She wiggled an eyebrow. “And quite the looker, I might add. Why in the world would this be a problem?”
“If anything were to go wrong between us, I don’t want him excluded from the family. He has no one else.”
Understanding seeped into her mother’s face. “Shay, honey. You don’t think much of your family if you believe we would do that to Caleb. We brought him into our family, and he’s staying. And people who are family, are family—good, bad and ugly. Finding a person in this lifetime who you really connect with and love is a blessing. Don’t let your obsession with ‘what if’ drive him away.” She narrowed her gaze. “Are you sure your hesitation is really about Caleb and the family? Or is there something else?”
“No!” she said, exasperated. “Caleb asked me the same thing. I was worried about him. I told him that.”
“And?”
“And nothing. He doesn’t believe me. We went from being in love to not speaking. Mom, I’m miserable. I miss him.”
“I believe you,” she said. “But if you want to fix this, you have to figure out what it is you’re fixing. He obviously doesn’t feel this is about telling us you two are in love. And something tells me deep down you don’t, either, or you wouldn’t be here right now. What is it that’s really bothering you?”
“Now who’s the therapist?” Shay asked, an uncomfortable fluttering in her chest—the truth trying to find a voice. Demanding she admit her fear. Fear. She’d told Caleb she was scared, but it wasn’t about jumping from a plane, and he’d known that. She’d been admitting something deeper, even if she wasn’t willing to yet fully face what it was. Nor was it really about telling her parents about her relationship with Caleb. That was there—a part of all of this—but it was really about why she hadn’t been ready to tell her parents.
Shay stared at the table, and forced herself to give that fear a voice. “On my eighteenth birthday, I kissed him. The next day—”
“He enlisted,” her mother supplied.
Shay looked up, her throat constricted. “Yes. He left. And every time he came home and we connected, he stayed away longer the next time.”
“And you’re afraid he’ll leave again.”
She nodded. “Yes.” Then stronger, she repeated, “Yes. I didn’t want to upset the family, that’s true. I wanted to be sure he was here to stay, that we were a sure thing, before I told everyone.”
“But you say you love each other,” she said. “Why wouldn’t he stay?”
“Even though I was pretty certain you’d be happy for us, Caleb certainly was,” she said, “part of me can’t get over him leaving with barely a goodbye when he enlisted. Or the times he came home and we connected and then he left again. What if we have a fight, and he feels the family is affected? Will he leave again? Will I wake up to find out he’s gone, already in some distant country, and I have no idea when I will hear from him again? He says he won’t leave again, and I want to believe him. I just…I love him so much. If I let myself really experience what that means, if I count on him, and he leaves again, I don’t know if I can bear it. Not this time. Not after all that has happened between us.”
Sharon touched her hand. “Tell him that.”
“I have. I’ve told him.”