“Are you here to make sure you’re in the will?”
She sagged onto the upholstered bench at the foot of the bed. “I understand you don’t have any reason to trust me, but I want to see my mother. I would also like to help if I can—and if she will let me.”
She sounded genuine. But then she always did at this stage of the cycle.
“Jade, keep in mind what I said. Mariah’s comfort and health come first.” He turned for the door, wanting the hell out of here and back to Johanna’s cabin with the dogs.
“Stone, wait,” his mother called.
He stopped with his hand on the door handle. His shoulders sagged with a weary sigh. “Remember the part about no drama? The same goes in talking to me.”
She stayed silent until he finally faced her again.
Jade still sat on the bench, hugging one of those fancy throw pillows women insisted on. “I’m sorry for not being a real mother to you. I regret that.”
“Everyone has regrets.” He understood she had to make amends as a part of the recovery process. She’d walked the steps again and again until he had the whole routine memorized. Too many times he thought she’d bottomed out enough that she’d finally begin a real recovery.
He wasn’t falling into that trap again.
She looked at him uncertainly. “What? No telling me off? Handing over pamphlets for the latest, greatest rehab center? I just finished with one of the best, you know.”
“So I hear. Congratulations.” Time would tell, but he wasn’t holding his breath.
“You’ve changed,” she said sadly. “You’re colder than ever, something else I need to make up to you.”
“I’m an adult. I accept responsibility for who I am.” He put his hand back on the door handle. “Now if we’re done here...?”
Her eyes welled up. “My mother is dying. Can you cut me a little slack?”
“Yes, she is,” he snapped, pushing past the lump in his throat. “And she doesn’t need you sapping what strength she has left.”
“Maybe I can bring her some comfort,” Jade said with a shaky hope that hinted at the brighter spirit she’d been during some of the better times of her life. She toyed with a turquoise cascade around her neck, a piece her dad had made for her eighteenth birthday. “I have a small window here to get things right, and I’m not going to waste it.”
“You can sit by her side as long as you’re lifting her spirits. If you don’t do that, you’re gone.” That’s all he cared about. And hadn’t he made that freaking clear the first time? Impatience gnawed at the back of his neck. “Now what else do you need from me?”
“Keep being the good man that you are.” Her eyes went doe-wide as she launched into a facade he liked to call “the good mother.” She deluded herself that she had something to offer. When he was a kid, this phase had been killer because it offered the false impression that she gave a damn.
“Right.” He ground his teeth together, knowing Johanna would tell him to get through this. Keep the peace. At least, he thought that’s what she’d say. He’d never given his mother that much airtime to know for sure.
“And Stone? Figure out how to be the kind of husband Johanna deserves because even I can see the two of you are meant to be together. I’m going to try to help here, but I know there’s probably nothing I can accomplish better than you or your cousins.”
Already this was seeping into drama-land. “Mom, can we stop? I need to go—”
She launched up and grabbed his arm. “You’re the only hope I have left of making my mother happy. Even though I can’t take credit for the man you’ve become—Mariah brought you up—I can take some pride in knowing I was your mother. At some point I must have done something good as your mom.”
The pleading look in her eyes chipped away at him, catching him at a time when he was already raw from all the walls he’d torn down in the past couple of days. Johanna, with her healing spirit and love of family, would want him to try. She had helped so many—human and animals—without expecting anything in return.
For Johanna, he scrounged in his mind for a positive memory with his mother and came up with, “You helped me with my macaroni art project for kindergarten.”
Blinking fast, she thumbed away a tear. “What did you say?”
He leaned against the closed door. “The teacher wanted us to use pasta to create scenes for the four seasons. I was mad because I wanted to draw horses so I blew off the ‘homework.’ The teacher sent a note home.”
“You always were a good artist and smart, too,” she said with pride.
He resisted the urge to say the crack baby rehab had probably shaved ten points or more off his IQ. A year ago, he would have opted for the joke. Instead, he opted for another Johanna-like answer. “You read to me. A lot. I remember that, too.”
She sat on her suitcase. “What else do you remember about the macaroni art project?”
“After we finished—or so I thought—you said it needed sparkle.” The memory expanded in his mind, making him smile even now in the middle of such a dismal morning. “We went into Grandpa’s home studio and raided the jewel bags. You used a citrine stone for the summer sun. Silver shavings for winter snow. Tiny amethysts and rubies for spring flowers. And for autumn, we had—”
“A pile of leaves made of topazes.” She clapped her hands and smiled. “When I heard you and Johanna were engaged, I called my mother and asked her to unearth those projects from a trunk I’d stored in the attic.”
“You kept the project?” Stunned, he was glad he had the door at his back for support.
“All four seasons,” she confirmed. “I got them framed, to be a wedding gift to you and Johanna. When you and Johanna broke up, I just kept them for myself. They’re hanging in my living room. You can come see for yourself if you don’t believe me.” The hint of desperation in her eyes punched away a little more of his defenses.
“I believe you. That’s really nice.” And it was. Keeping kindergarten art didn’t make up for the past but it meant something to him to know she’d held on to the memory, too.
He didn’t think he could ever see her as a mother figure. That seemed disloyal to Mariah who’d done everything for him. Photos showed his grandfather had tried to fill the void of a father figure. From all he’d heard from Mariah about his grandfather, he would have kept that up....