Halfway to You(104)

That’s all of it. That’s the truth.

I know I was wrong to keep secrets.

I know I was wrong to lie.

Of course, it’s too late now.

My only hope is that you’ll find it in your heart to forgive me. Because even if you denounce me as your mother, I’m still the woman who raised you, and I will always—always—love you.





MAGGIE


Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA

Sunday, January 14, 2024

Maggie thought that when she got on the plane, she’d feel ready. Then she thought when she got off the plane, she’d feel ready. Now, she’s standing outside a coffee shop in her hometown, and she’s still not ready. Not ready to step through the door and sit down across from Bob, who is stiffly waiting and has not yet spotted her outside. Not ready to face this new reality and rewrite her life.

She hasn’t forgiven Tracey—that would be a lie, and she’s done with lies. She has, however, found a little empathy. Because, as she’s learned over the course of Ann’s story, grief does strange things to a person.

Maggie draws a long breath of cold Colorado air into her lungs. The sky is a deep, clear blue; there’s ice on the sidewalk, snow piled in the street gutters. The crisp winter air smells like home: sledding and making snow angels with Bob, sipping hot cocoa and wearing Christmas pajamas with Tracey.

Maggie has every right to be angry, but where has anger gotten this family? Tracey carried her anger—toward herself, toward Ann, toward Todd—for twenty-four years, and that helped no one. Maggie could conjure her own and let it fester inside her forever, but standing here on the sidewalk, she doesn’t want to be angry. Her childhood memories might be framed by lies, but they are nonetheless happy.

Maggie steps inside the coffee shop, the door jingling. Bob looks up from his untouched mug, and his eyes crease. At first Maggie suspects it’s from the bright sunlight streaming through the window, but then tears fall. She’s never seen Bob cry. She’s seen his balled fists when he’s frustrated, the subtle furrow of his focused brow, the slight lift of his shoulders when admitting to Tracey that he ruined their appetites by taking Maggie for after-school milkshakes—but tears. Those are new.

He stands, they embrace, and it’s a strong one. Bob’s arms shake a little, but he squeezes hard, stealing Maggie’s breath in the way he has always hugged her, ever since she was little.

“Sit down, dear, sit down,” he says, gesturing to the seat across from his own. “Do you want a coffee?”

“I’m all right.”

“Do you want mine? I think they gave me almond milk.” He makes a face.

Maggie can’t help a smile, but it quickly fades. “No, thanks.”

“Your mother wanted to be here.”

“I hope she understands why I’m still . . .”

Bob grasps her hand. His palm is calloused and wrinkled, but strong—just as she remembers. It’s the hand that steadied her when she was learning to walk, the hand that led her into school on the first day of kindergarten, and the hand that will someday lead her down the aisle. Her father’s hand.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “We’re sorry.”

Since Tracey’s admission to Maggie rehashed the whole ordeal, the Whitaker Family text thread has remained silent. Maggie wonders if the family will ever recover from this final secret, now exposed. She fears her presence will only remind them of Tracey’s shame. It’s an old wound that never properly healed, now reopened.

When Maggie was a child and Ann exposed the truth, Keith and Barbara, Natalie and Jackson, Tracey and Bob, and Todd and Ann had been the only ones to know. According to Tracey, Keith had done what he could to keep the family together, all three Whitaker siblings moving forward with Tracey’s lie. The least painful path, they all decided. But the news irreversibly changed Keith’s friendships, and a rift grew between Keith, Todd, and Ann.

Keith was the most loving, forgiving person Maggie knew. If Keith was so affected by the news back then, how can the rest of the Whitakers expect resolution now?

“We lied to you and betrayed your trust,” Bob continues. “I, of anyone, should’ve known better than to entertain more secrets—even well-intentioned ones. But at the time, I was so hurt by what Tracey did, and I wanted to protect you from it.”

Of everyone involved in this mess, it’s Bob whose strength and loyalty stun Maggie the most. “How did you . . .” Maggie trails off, shaking her head.

“Stay?” he finishes for her. “I’m a stubborn man, Maggie. It’s my strength and my weakness.” A pause. “Therapy helped.”

Maggie shakes her head. “I don’t see how I can move past this.”

Bob’s face falls, and he stares at his unwanted coffee for a moment. But then he meets her eyes, and squeezes her hand again, and says, “I think we all have to accept that things will never be as they once were.” He tips his head, a sad but hopeful smile forming. “But that’s okay because we can forge a new path together. If that’s what you decide you want.”

Whenever Ann spoke of her own mother, Maggie heard the regret in her voice, the what-ifs and amends never made. Perhaps Bob is right: they shouldn’t try to repair the past—but they can try to build a more honest future.