She emerges, gazing up at the house for the first time. I wonder if she has the same reaction that I did when I arrived. I wonder if my home feels like an inviting place to her or somewhere she's about to enter with trepidation.
I wave, standing as she takes the stairs slowly. The bags under her eyes are dark with shadow, and her hair needs cutting. Everything about my momma seems tired, and despite all the harsh words between us, I just want to hug her.
When I do, she's stiff for a moment, then relaxes in my arms, breathing me in and making a soft humming noise like she did when I was a child. "Maggie," she says softly. "I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry too, Mom."
"What for? For being stronger than I am? For being able to handle the hardest choices without turning angry and harsh? Don't be sorry for any of that."
"For making things difficult between us." I draw backward, and she smooths my tangled curls, tutting as she usually does about the wildness of my hair.
"I made things difficult between us. So something happened that wasn't part of your plan or mine. It was a shock. It brought back all the feelings I had of worry and hopelessness when I found myself alone with you. The responsibility felt too much, and when I couldn't give you what I wanted you to have, I hated myself. I wanted so much more than we had. It didn't matter how hard I tried, it was never enough."
"But I didn't," I say. "I didn't need anything else."
Mom nods, her face still grim as though the shame of struggling financially for so many years is too much for me to wipe away with a few words. "I just wanted you to do more for your baby. I thought if you sold this place, you'd have a fresh start. I didn't understand what you were trying to tell me about your foster brothers. I thought you'd gone crazy."
"It's hard to get your head around. I know that."
"Danna called me. She explained. She told me how it is for her and how she hopes it will be for you. So many men…" She shakes her head, eyebrows raised in disbelief. "At least you'll have security."
"And love," I say. "Will you come in to meet them?"
Mom shrugs, and I can see that she's torn. She wants to know the men who have come into my life like a whirlwind and captured my heart, and she's fearful too. If she doesn't like them, it'll add a whole new layer of worry to my situation.
"Okay," she says.
"First, though, I want to show you what they've done."
I open the front door and lead Mom up the stairs to my room. Since I've been back, the boys have stocked it with everything the baby will need, from toys to rompers. When I open the door, I know the first thing Mom notices is the giant bed because her cheeks pink a little just under the purple of her tired eyes. But then her attention is focused on the mural behind the crib and all the baby's little possessions. She turns to me, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "They did this?"
"While I was staying with you. They wanted to show me that this is my home, and the baby is their family too. They wanted me to know that we belong here, whatever happens."
Mom slides her hand into mine and gives it a squeeze. "It's going to be okay, isn't it?"
"I really think it is. And they've told me to enrol in school here. They want me to finish what I started."
Mom pulls me into another hug and pats my back. "I'm so happy for you, Maggie. It may not be the setup that I expected for you, but I can see that they're considering your needs and respecting and nurturing your dreams. I couldn't ask for more from a partner of yours."
"Thanks, Mom."
The introductions are long and confusing, and I can see my mom blushing as each of my foster brothers takes her hand and welcomes her. Mom stays for dinner, spending time with each of my men, asking them about their plans for the future. Afterward, as she unlocks her car, ready to depart, she smiles and shakes her head. "You know, your dad made some big mistakes in his life. The way he left things between you, well, I'll always be angry about that. But he did a good thing with those boys. They really are something special, and he left you a life with more security than I have ever been able to offer you. I'm glad for that."
"It's funny how things work out."
"Are you at peace with him now?"
I gaze back at the house, thinking about the box of his possessions that I've kept at the bottom of my closet and the legacy of a family he left me. I remember the words from his letter and realize that the knot I had in my chest whenever I thought about him has gone. "I am," I say with cool relief. "I know I never got to tell him how I feel in person, but that doesn't matter. I have a life to live… a life he helped to create and shape. I'll let that be his legacy."