A Mother Would Know (82)

My chest flutters as I wait for him to explain what he means by that. My fingertips skate over the skin on my neck, lighting on the fabric of my shirt.

Finally, he swallows and continues, “I started to go off about Kendra, but then Heather told me to shut up. Said that I had no right to be mad at Kendra. Can you believe that? I had no right to be mad at Kendra?” Redness spills across his cheeks and down his neck. “She said that at least Kendra had the decency to tell her the truth. I told her that Kendra was only trying to mess with me. And then she was like, ‘So it’s not true?’ I hate to admit this, but I was going to lie about it. But Heather knew me too well. So I nodded. I did tell her the thing about the fake note that Kendra planted, but she was like, ‘Why didn’t you come to me?’ and I didn’t have an answer to that. She was so mad then, and she tried to walk away, but I grabbed her arm. Pled with her to talk to me. Only...” He bites his lip, his eyes watering. “She tugged her arm out of my grasp and stepped back. And then she...she lost her balance. She was too close to the edge, and she started to fall. I tried to grab on to her, but it all happened so fast.”

His voice wavers, the tears in his eyes falling now. I’m horrified by all of it, just like I was that night. Such an awful, tragic end for a sweet girl with her whole life ahead of her. My heart aches as it has for years. For Heather. For Hudson. For the senselessness of it. “I just wanted to make things right, Mom. I never meant for her to fall. You know how much I loved her. If only she hadn’t gotten so mad. If she’d just stayed calm and listened to me, she’d still be here.”

“I know.” Lifting my hand, I rub his back with my palm.

The sobs are coming hard and fast now. I sit with him, mourn with him and for him.

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly as if embarrassed by the display of emotion. Sniffing, he runs a hand down his face. His skin is red and damp, his eyes sad and watery.

“I’m sorry, too. Sorry for everything you went through,” I say. “Sorry that I never helped you with Kendra.”

“How could you if you didn’t know?”

“A better mother would have known,” I say. “The signs were there. I should have picked up on them.” I always thought Kendra was responsible. Good. It’s what Darren thought, too.

“No.” Hudson shakes his head. “She was a master manipulator. Look at what she did to you. And to Molly and Leslie.” Exhaling, he stands. “If it weren’t for her, Heather would be here today. If only she’d kept her big mouth shut.”

I’m thrown for a moment, confused. Is he really blaming Kendra for telling Heather, when he’s the one who chose to kiss the other girl in the first place? But then, Kendra’s meddling was clearly ill-intentioned. She seems to have spent much of her life causing chaos and enjoying it.

How have I been so blind to it all?

Hudson is right. She’s a master manipulator, and she’d had us all fooled.

Kendra was right about one thing, though: I wasn’t around like I should have been. I’ll never apologize for pursuing my dream. That was something I needed to do. But as much as I loved Mac, my affair with him had hurt my children. I wish I’d done it differently. Put my family first. Then maybe I would have seen what was happening in my own home.

I look at my son, thinking of the horrors he’s endured.

“I wish I’d been a better mom,” I say to him now, a lump in my throat.

It was similar to what I’d said to Darren, holding his hand in the hospital while he was dying. Tubes were everywhere, machines beeping and humming. His mind was gone, and I doubt he heard anything I said. Still, I had to say it.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t a better wife. That I took you for granted. That I didn’t put you first.”

I’d thought I made amends then, but apparently there were still amends that needed to be made.

Hudson returns to my bed, taking one of my hands in his. “Mom, you are the only woman that’s ever been good to me. You’re the only woman who will never hurt me.”

It’s a nice sentiment, and I’m grateful for his kind words. It feels like a mercy I don’t deserve.

“I really should let you get some sleep.” He bends down, kissing my forehead. “We can talk more tomorrow.”

When he closes the door, I flinch, panic surfacing for one second. But then I hear his footsteps on the stairs. No hook and latch. No lock. I don’t know why that had even crossed my mind. Of course he’s not going to lock me in. It might take a while for me to get over what happened today.

It isn’t until Hudson is downstairs that I realize I never told him to send Bowie up. When we’d gotten home, Bowie was asleep in his bed in the corner of the family room, and I didn’t have the heart to wake him. I imagine getting out of my bed, peeking my head out into the hallway and calling Bowie’s name. But I’m much too tired to actually make my body do that. Instead, I nestle down into my pillow, tugging the covers higher up my body.

As I roll over, the events of the day play out in gory detail. I hear Kendra’s voice in my head, screaming as the police drag her away.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

I worry about where she is now. What she’s going through. She may have done horrible things, but she’s still my daughter. I never want her to feel pain. And what will happen to Mason? Panic grabs me by the throat. Oh, god, Mason.