Gayle smiled. “Maybe, although that makes it sound simple and we both know it isn’t.”

“I feel terrible, Mom.”

“Why would you feel terrible?”

Samantha ran her hand over the back of her neck. “Because it was so hard for you, and we had no idea and we just assumed you were this cold, working machine—that we couldn’t ever be what you wanted us to be. And also that all these years I’ve been imagining what my father might be like and it turns out he was nothing like that—” Samantha pressed her palms to her cheeks, breathing deeply. “We—didn’t understand. I wish you’d told us.”

“I could say ‘so do I,’ but I’m not sure it’s true. I’m not sure I would ever have been able to burden my children with my problems.”

“What you achieved—” Samantha’s eyes were swimming. “It’s incredible, Mom. I read your book.”

“Which one?”

“Both of them. I read them last night. You’re probably shocked that I hadn’t read them before.”

Was she shocked? Not really. There had been times when it had felt as if Samantha had rejected everything Gayle had offered.

“It doesn’t matter. You don’t have to explain.” She didn’t say that she’d lost all confidence in her own beliefs and words after her accident. Or that it was her blossoming friendship with Mary that had rekindled a little of her self-confidence. The fact that she was standing here now, able to have this conversation was at least partly down to Mary.

“All my friends hero-worshiped you. They thought you were an inspiration. A fearless champion of women and a cool mom.” Samantha gave a half smile. “They envied me. Wanted what I had. And I wanted what they had. Mothers whose achievements weren’t quite so measurable. Who didn’t make them feel inferior. I was angry with myself for never managing to be what you wanted me to be no matter how hard I tried. I kept comparing myself and falling short. I assumed that everyone felt sorry for you, having a daughter like me.”

“Oh Samantha—” The pain of it was indescribable. The knowledge that she’d hurt the child she’d been trying to protect. She’d had no idea. She hadn’t seen how vulnerable Samantha was.

She’d offered advice on so many aspects of life and change, and yet had no words of advice for herself on how to stop wanting to somehow undo the decisions she’d made. What it was like to want to take all the experience she’d gained over her years of life and apply them to the beginning. Hindsight wasn’t just a matter of timing, it was a matter of wisdom and that was gained with experience.

Gayle closed the distance and took her daughter’s hands, prying those tense fingers apart and smoothing them. “I was proud. Even when you fought me, I was proud, because I could see that you had strength and would always be able to handle what life threw at you. I should have told you that every day, so that you never had to doubt it. I was always proud of you, and I’m proud of the way you love your sister, and how hard you’ve worked to try and help this family.”

“I wish I’d done things differently.”

I wish I’d done things differently, too.

“You protected yourself, and I was the one who encouraged you to always do that. And you protected Ella. You’re a wonderful sister.” She kept hold of her daughter’s hand. “When you become a mother, they tell you about feeding and sleeping, but what they never tell you is that one day you might want to turn the clock back and make different decisions.”

“I don’t know—” Samantha shook her head. “I don’t have children. I can’t begin to understand how you felt. It must have been so, so hard. I’m proud of you, Mom. I should have said it before.” Tears fell, and Gayle wrapped her in her arms, something she hadn’t done since Samantha was a child.

“There.” She held her daughter, stroking her hair, soothing, until eventually Samantha pulled back and sniffed.

“Is this something we can put behind us? I really want to.”

Gayle, always so practiced at handling her emotions, discovered that she’d lost the art. “I want that, too.”

“I’m sorry—” Samantha sniffed again and scrubbed at her cheek with her palm. “You raised me not to be a crier.”

“And that was wrong. I taught you not to let emotions drive your choices—Here, use this.” Gayle found a tissue in her purse. “Luckily your sister ignored my advice and did her own thing. But you find it hard to show your feelings.”

Samantha blew her nose. “I’m trying to change that. Another choice.”

“Indeed. And I’m doing it, too.” Gayle gestured to her sweater, which was a soft shade of heather. “I’m learning to wear something other than black.”

“You look good in it.”

“And you looked good in that red coat you wore to the hospital that day. Stunning.”

“You said—”

“I know what I said, and it’s embarrassing to remember it. You have an enviable sense of style.” Gayle stood up straighter. “If you’d be willing to help me choose new clothes, I’d appreciate it. I’ve gone with ‘mermaid’ for this trip, but I need business wear that doesn’t look as if I’m either about to swim the ocean, or go straight from work to a funeral.”

“Of course.” Samantha gave a tentative smile. “You could come and spend a couple of days in Boston with me, and we could go shopping.”

Tags: Sarah Morgan Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net