“You know you’re welcome to stay as long as you wish,” Mom said. “I’ll try to keep it down.”
I regretted saying anything now. “Sorry, I have a lot on my mind. There’s no reason for me to be snippy. It’s fine. It’s your house. ”
Mom finished pouring water into the coffee maker before pressing the button to brew. She turned around and crossed her arms. “You know it’s our house, right? It always has been.”
“Yeah,” I said. It was too early to get into this conversation. I was still in a transitional period and wasn’t ready to commit to anything other than the sales job at the antique store. The move was a significant enough change for me, and I needed a little time to catch up before making another one.
“Have you found any nanny positions?” Mom asked.
I sighed. “Not yet. I guess people in St. Paul were different than here.”
“Most people around the world care for their own kids. It’s in the bigger cities that those jobs are more frequent.”
“Are you saying I should move to a bigger city here?” I asked.
“Sydney isn’t too far away,” Mom said.
“You want me to leave already?” I asked, bewildered.
“No, love. It’s something to think about in the long run. I know how much you love the little ones.”
“I do love them.” Gina in particular. Her little face lingered on my mind all day, every day. I wondered how long it would be before she faded away just like my life in St. Paul did. “And I do miss it, but I have to find the right kid.”
“I understand,” she said, pulling out the filled carafe of coffee. She brought it to the table and filled two empty mugs with coffee.
I added a dab of milk to mine and swirled the liquid around with a spoon.
“Let’s sit out on the patio,” Mom said. “It’s a lovely morning.”
We went outside, and she was right. Outside was a little cooler, but the scent of the ocean tickled my nose.
“Bobby’s treating ya okay?” she asked, sitting down. Bobby was her friend who owned the antique store. He was given the store after his grandfather passed away and never looked back. He was a grandfather himself, so I wondered which of his seven grandkids would inherit it as only two of them worked there.
“Yes, he’s very kind,” I said.
“Use this as a learning experience,” Mom said. “Maybe you could teach your next kid about antiques.”
“I’m sure he or she would be very interested,” I said, keeping my tone light.
“If you get a young ‘un then I’m sure they would be. Though it seems every kid now has a cell phone attached to their palm.”
If I had my choice, I would choose an older kid, any age after five. I wasn’t sure I could do another three-year-old. I would be reminded too much of Gina.
“I know you miss them,” Mom said, sitting down next to me. She placed her hand down on my arm, squeezing it lightly.
“I do miss them,” I said, finally opening up. Since coming down, we’d avoided talking about Noah and Gina at all. It hurt too much. But now I felt as if I needed to talk about them. To get over them. To heal. “And I’m worried. I hope Noah can find someone who will take care of Gina. Someone who really cares for her. Like I do.” Then quickly amended, “Did.”
“You can still care for her,” Mom said. “She had an impact on you, just like you did for her.”
“Not enough of an impact for Noah to keep me.”
“Yeah, well, that’s how life works sometimes. You’re going to have to get over it.”
I nodded and sipped my coffee. I would get over it. Someday. But for now, I had to heal. And for me to heal, I had to think about them. Enough that maybe I’d wake up one morning and it wouldn’t hurt so much.
The phone rang from inside, and Mom got up to get it.
I sat back and peered out through the slats of our fence toward the beach in the distance. This was my life now.