Midnight Lily(27)

CHAPTER NINE


Lily



"The garden is bursting with flowers," my mom said, picking up a stem and clipping the bottom before placing it in the vase with the others. "Smell those roses? That's what real garden roses smell like, not those store-bought ones that barely have any fragrance at all." She made a clicking sound as if the idea of store-bought roses offended her greatly.

I looked up from my book. I'd been reading the same paragraph again and again and still didn't know what it said. "They're beautiful," I murmured. "I like the white ones with the yellow in the middle."

"Narcissus," she said softly before I tuned her out again.

A woman. There'd been a woman with Holden. A beautiful, half-dressed woman. My gut clenched, and I felt tears threatening. You're so stupid, Lily. Of course I was stupid. Holden probably thought I sounded like someone who'd never left her house, rarely interacted with anyone at all. Because that was the truth of the matter. The women he dated were probably sophisticated and worldly. They probably talked about . . . talked about . . . I huffed out a breath. Well of course I had no idea what they talked about. Which was actually the whole point. Despair overwhelmed me.

" . . . glad you agree!" I shook my head as I realized my mother was speaking again.

"I'm sorry, Mom, were you saying something?"

My mom rolled her eyes. "Yes, but it really wasn't anything important. I answered for you. Recently I've been having the most interesting conversations with myself—very stimulating actually."

I offered a small smile. "Sorry, I got lost in my own head."

"What have you been thinking about so intently lately?" She gave me a speculative look. Half speculative, anyway. The other half of her face, the deeply scarred half, mostly failed to move at all.

Shaking my head, I said, "Nothing in particular." I pretended to read the book again. In my peripheral vision, I could see that she watched me for a moment and then sighed before going back to her arranging.

"Purple crocus, royal blue iris," she said, placing flowers in the vase. She brought one to her nose and inhaled. "Mmm. Hyacinth," she said. "Doesn't it smell wonderful?" She clipped the stem and placed that one in the vase as well. "There are so many vegetables in the garden here, too—lettuce and cucumbers, beets, potatoes, squash."

I nodded absently. My mind wandered again. Had Holden lied when he'd said there was something he needed to do? Was that just something he'd said so I didn't bother him while the woman was there? So he could walk around naked with her to his heart's content? Because that's what he'd been doing. I'd gotten an eyeful, and it was not disappointing. I kind of wished it had been. And yet, despite what I'd seen, he'd run outside to me, leaving her there. I didn't know what to feel . . . confusion, sadness, hope?

I shook my head, trying to shake off all the questions, all the doubt. I shouldn't care so much. So he had kissed me. So what? It wasn't like this could go anywhere. It was worthless to mourn the loss of something that could never be. I'd just . . . I'd thought he liked me the way I liked him. Despite not knowing him very well, I'd trusted him. My stomach cramped with remnants of the terrible, painful jealousy I'd felt when I'd seen them through the window. Her on top of him, his hands on her hips. Naked him. Beautiful her. And watching from the distance . . . idiotic me.

Maybe the other woman didn't even matter. Even if he really did want to spend time with me here, maybe it was better that he'd have someone to go home to. It wasn't like he was going to stay in Colorado permanently.

I glanced over at my mom and saw her grimacing and moving her face as if flexing it, as she placed the last flowers in the vase. Sympathy overcame over me. Lost in my own world, I'd been ignoring her lately. "When was the last time you applied any of the cream the doctor gave you?"

She shook her head. "Not in a couple days."

"Mom, you need to use that consistently. It works best that way, and you know it. Your skin is all tight now because it's dry. No wonder it's uncomfortable. Here, let me put some on for you."

She nodded and went into the other room to wash her hands and then came back and sat down in the chair next to the fireplace, leaning her head on the back, her shoulder-length blonde hair cascading over it. I could see strands of gray woven through it now, and they sparkled in the firelight as if they were glittering pieces of tinsel like she used to toss onto our Christmas tree. We didn't use tinsel anymore. I wondered why not. I supposed it had gone out of style, but I'd loved it. Shaking my head free of the memory, I grabbed the small tube of cream and stood behind her, using a small bit of it on my fingertips to massage it into the thick, crisscrossed scars on the left side of her face, and down her neck. She sighed. "Thank you, darling, that's better. What would I do without you?"

I smiled, but my heart squeezed painfully to think of her without me. All alone. Sometimes I dreamed of going somewhere where there were lots of people, where I could sit and watch them without hiding, where maybe they'd even talk to me, too. I dreamed of things I didn't dare share with my own mother. I dreamed of things I knew could never be real.

"I like that dress, by the way," my mother said.

I smiled. It was my favorite, too. The white lace.