I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2)(101)

My mother turns and comes to me, and for the first time in a very long time I see compassion in her eyes.

“Kay,” she whispers when she reaches me. “I had a feeling I’d find you here tonight.”

This woman… This woman, who has rejected me for four years, has apparently sought me out. But why? Why tonight? Why this anniversary and none of the others? Are four years of no communication sufficient penance in her eyes?

Tears blur my vision and I rock back on my heels. I look away. But my mother is not deterred—she kneels down right beside me. She says my name again and reaches for my hand. I don’t want her to touch me, so I resist. But I ultimately let her wrap her cool fingers around my hand. She’s always had this hold over me. I am powerless around her.

My mind wars with itself to take some sort of a stand, one way or the other. Part of me fears this woman, and that part urges me to twist my hand from hers and run away, fast as I can. But another part of me is drawn to this person who gave me life. And that part wants nothing more than for my mother to grab me up, hold me, and tell me I am forgiven.

I can’t make up my mind; I don’t know what to do. Hell, I can’t even move. But I don’t have to decide anything as my mother pulls me into her arms.

I resist a little, out of fear she’ll end up re-breaking my just-now-mending heart. But there’s something in me—some bond forged by shared DNA, perhaps—that’s stronger than reason or emotion. Deep in my heart I long for what we all desire, I want my mother to accept me, love me, for who I am. And that need for acceptance, that craving to feel loved, makes me relax into this woman whose arms I’ve not felt around me for almost half a decade.

She holds me and I am transported back in time. In her arms, I sob like a child, “Mom, Mom…Mommy.”

I am no longer a woman of twenty-three—I’m a little girl who wants her mother. My cheek presses to her bosom, my body shakes. I am wracked with grief.

My mom grips me tighter, but I am inconsolable. “Kay, oh, honey, what have I done? God forgive me. I am so sorry. I’ve missed you every single day, I have. I denied it to myself for so long, and why?” She pauses, choking up. “I was wrong about so many things. I’ve spent years believing something I found out today isn’t even true. Can you ever forgive me, Kay?”

I pull away and swipe and swipe at tears that keep coming and coming. I stare at my mother. I don’t understand what she’s talking about. Is she asking me to forgive her for disowning me? Does she seek absolution for not speaking to me for four years? Has she finally realized what Chase has been helping me to believe is true—that it doesn’t matter I left Sarah alone? That if anyone carries a modicum of blame, then that person is Doug? And what did she find out today that changed her thinking? I am so confused.

My mother touches my cheek. Her eyes assess mine. She must see my uncertainty, as she takes a deep breath and begins her explanation.

She tells me she came into town early this morning, after she found out about Doug’s mother’s accident. I should have considered my mother might show up in Harmony Creek; she and Mrs. Wilson are still great friends, after all.

“Doug was at the hospital,” she says, and I tense at the mention of his name. “Kay, he told me the truth. He told me what really happened that night.”

I scoot back. “What are you talking about?” I ask, more confused than ever. “I told you the whole story after Sarah’s funeral. You know everything.”

My mother’s face fills with guilt. “That’s not what happened. Well, not exactly. There was a detail you were unaware of. We all were. That’s the blank Doug filled in this morning.”

My mouth is agape, I am unsettled and lost. I stare at my mother. I can’t shake this feeling that my world is shifting on its axis. “What did he say happened?” I nervously ask.

What does Doug Wilson know that I don’t? What has he been keeping a secret for all these years? Obviously it’s something big if it’s enough to have turned my hard-line mother around. I close my eyes and wait to hear what she has to say.

“Kay, Doug’s broken up about his mother…I think that’s why he told me. He wants to make things right. He said he can’t bear the guilt of keeping his role in Sarah’s death silent any longer.”

His role? He already bears some responsibility, but is there more? I open my eyes and stare at where my knee is touching my mother’s. Mine is bare, my mother’s is clad in expensive linen.

“What did he tell you?” I prod.

She takes a breath. “Kay, Doug was the one who unlocked the patio door.” What? “He said he went outside to put something in the recycle bin out near the pool.” His empty beer can. “He said he forgot to relock the door when he went back inside.”

Yeah, forgot because he was too busy hurrying to get to the stairs, to trap me there, to back me into my bedroom. Fucking *. He’s kept this secret for all these years. If he’d only come clean right away, this rift between me and my mother might never have taken hold.

Doug confesses his secret now because his mother’s been in an accident? Does he think he can bargain with God? He’s so arrogant he probably does.

I am seething. All the rage I’ve kept bottled up for four years—rage at myself, rage at my mother for abandoning me, rage at God for taking Sarah—it all redirects to Doug Wilson. He better hope he doesn’t run into me.