If You Must Know (Potomac Point #1)(62)

Mom slowly shook her head, chin tucked. “You can’t compete with a memory, Erin. A ghost of one’s beloved is a perfect incarnation of what used to be, untarnished by bad memories or faults. You will always suffer by comparison. I don’t want that for you.”

I knew my mother was speaking from experience. No matter how many times my dad had told anyone who would listen how he’d hit the jackpot with my mother, she never, ever fully forgot that someone else had been his first love.

Meanwhile, my entire life had been a series of suffering by comparison—to my siblings, other students—so this wouldn’t be any different, but I kept that to myself. “Well, I can’t help how I feel.”

Mom sighed. “You’re stubborn.”

“Maybe.” Mo licked my face and gave me sloppy doggy kisses, which were better than no kisses. “Mom, do you get lonely? I mean, you’re alone a lot. Maybe you need to join a club or find a new friend . . .”

She batted my knee. “I’ve no interest in dating.”

“I said ‘friend,’ not ‘boyfriend.’” Interesting that her mind went there, though. Sort of cringey, but interesting. “Then again, you are only sixty-two. Dad wouldn’t want you to live the next twenty or thirty years without any romance.” The mere thought made me a little sad for her.

Mom practically sprang off the mattress. “If you don’t want to talk about Eli, fine, but don’t nose into my personal life. For goodness’ sake, I’m too old for hot pants. I’ll see you later.”

She scurried away, leaving me scratching my head. Hot pants? I snorted.

My class at Give Me Strength wasn’t for another hour, so I lugged myself from the bed and put on an old Doors LP to chill out. “People Are Strange” had begun to play when a crashing sound made me leap off my bed. “Mom?”

Silence.

I trotted through the house, calling for her. By the time I reached the empty kitchen, my heart was racing. I flung the door to the garage open.

“Oh shoot!” Mo and I ran to the driver’s side of the car, which she’d backed into the garage door before opening it.

Mom sat behind the steering wheel, her white-knuckled hands wrapped around it, tears in her eyes. My heart thundered from panic and guilt. Why had I worked her into a tizzy when the whole reason I was living here was to make sure this kind of thing didn’t happen?

I flung open the car door. “Are you hurt?” After scanning her from head to toe, I breathed a sigh of relief. No blood.

“I’m fine. Completely fine.” She glanced up at me, pleading, “Erin, don’t tell Dodo about this.”

Dodo was the last thing on my mind, for God’s sake. Crossing my heart, I peered back at the rear bumper and the dented garage door. Two additional expenses we couldn’t afford. “Not a peep.”

Between Nancy Thompson and accidents like this, my mom would be as broke as I was within months. I dreaded calling Amanda, who didn’t need more bad news. Mom’s continual oopsy-daisies were becoming more troubling and dangerous at a time when the Turner family did not need more stress.

“Let’s go inside. I’ll get you some water and call the garage door company.” She leaned on my shoulder as she pushed out of the car, and I kept hold of her elbow until she was seated at the kitchen table.

She’d always seemed so together and invincible. Watching her falling apart made me aware that I relied on her toughness more than I’d realized.

While filling a water glass, I saw the clouds blocking the sun, dimming the light in the kitchen. Hopelessness had never been my thing, but with Amanda, my mother, and Eli all in distress, the blue mood enveloped me. A sluggishness I’d not felt since the early months of missing my dad’s quiet presence returned.

I handed my mother the glass and took a seat. “I won’t call Dodo, but we have to tell Amanda. This is the third or fourth dangerous incident in a couple weeks. It’s time to make a doctor’s appointment to rule out anything worse.”

“No!” She slammed the glass on the table.

“Mom, please. We lost Dad too soon. Don’t ignore your health, too.” Warm tears swam in my eyes. Despite our peevish relationship, I did love my mother. Her behavior of late had me getting concerned about dementia, like her dad had suffered.

“Okay.” The hardened look in her eyes resembled blue ice. “But only to prove that I’m fine.”

“Thank you.”

In one of the rarest moments of my life, I hoped my mom would prove me wrong.





CHAPTER ELEVEN

AMANDA

To break the silence, I cranked the soundtrack to the most recent Pride & Prejudice movie upon returning home from work. That music still moved me despite my own fraudulent Mr. Darcy. Channeling Lizzy for the courage needed to handle the task ahead, I sat at the kitchen table and smoothed out the handwritten page of questions for Lyle’s father that I’d compiled this morning. To protect my daughter, my mother, and myself, I had to be better able to predict Lyle’s behavior, which meant I needed the facts about his entire life instead of relying on his version.

It was past time for this step, but somehow my heart hadn’t gotten the message. It fluttered violently despite my having practiced my introduction at least four times during the short drive home. With the phone held to my ear and my eyes closed, I held my breath while it rang.