Fairytale Not Required (26 page)

For a moment, Jason hesitated, thinking of all the work he had to do to fix the store...and suddenly, he didn't want to go back there tonight. He had left his medical practice for a reason, and that reason was sitting on the bed in front of him. "Yeah, sure, Noah. Let's go find some bats."

Noah shrieked with delight, making Jason grin as his son yanked on sneakers and raced into the hall. As he followed his son out the door, he couldn't help but feel he was still missing something. But what?

But he knew what it was.

He was missing Astrid. She was supposed to be there with them.

Astrid hummed to herself as she sketched another dragonfly, trying to replicate the shimmering iridescence of their wings. She'd been so inspired by the dragonflies today while she'd been hunting them with Noah. She shaded in some pink and some blue, with a faint hint of yellow. She felt alive and excited, rejuvenated by the creatures she'd helped Noah find earlier. They were so bold and daring as they flew around, streaking through the air as if they owned it, their wings so beautiful.

She'd never used dragonflies in her jewelry before, but after seeing them, she wanted desperately to try to capture their beauty and bring it to life. She felt like she could channel their elusive confidence and beauty into her own being, if she could figure out how to make them come alive in her art.

She finished her sketch and sat back, inspecting it. But even as she studied it, her excitement began to fade. It was just a flat, two-dimensional image. She hadn't done it justice. She hadn't brought the magic to life. She could already tell that if she tried to make earrings from her sketch, they wouldn't be good enough.

"Crap!" Frustrated, she shoved back from the table and walked out onto the deck. The sun was setting and it was getting dark. How many days had it been since she'd moved into the carriage house? Long enough to find her muse in the idyllic setting, and yet she hadn't accomplished anything. She'd come no further on her jewelry. She had no leads on a job. She hadn't found any affordable housing that was decent enough to raise a child in.

She still had Harlan's key, but she felt weird moving in there. She'd stopped by once to check it out, and it had felt really empty and depressing, almost as if a dark shadow haunted the place. It was a tiny cabin on the lake, hidden in the darkness of trees, isolated from anything else. Harlan's presence was all over it, with his belongings silently waiting for his return from who knew where. She knew she couldn't make her home there. It wasn't the answer for her.

She'd sent out ten resumes to places in Maine, New Hampshire and Vermont. She'd called sixteen art galleries and none of them had openings. Three jewelry stores. No one had been impressed with what she had to offer.

A part of her had been relieved that she couldn’t get a job and be forced to give up her dream.

And another part of her had been terrified at the prospect of continuing to rely on her dying business.

"What do I do now?" she asked the night.

There was no answer except the forest and lake sounds. The croak of bullfrogs from the marsh. The hoot of an owl. The call of a loon. Astrid closed her eyes and listened. A cold chill crept up her arms as the loon switched to its call that sounded like a dying woman, a female screaming as she was brutally killed.

Astrid's eyes snapped open as goose bumps slithered down her spine. She knew the haunting scream was simply the loon. Not a woman. But it made her think of her mother. Where was she? What was happening? What if she had died, and Astrid had never heard about it, leaving her to die alone? Her mother had no one besides Astrid, which meant that now she was alone.

Noah had lost his mother so bravely. Astrid still had hers, and yet she'd blown her off. Would she want her child to do that? To give up on her? She knew she wouldn't be perfect as a mother, probably no better than her mother was. Did she want her child to ditch her?

God, no. She would love that child, with everything she had.

A sweat broke out on her brow as she pressed her hand to her belly. What did she have to offer this baby? Herself? And what else? What family? All she had was Jason's judgmental parents. What kind of life was that for her child? Astrid's mom was a mess, sure, but in her own way, she'd loved Astrid so unconditionally. Astrid suddenly thought of what her mom must have felt like the day she'd realized she was pregnant with Astrid, and realized she was going to have to raise her daughter by herself. It had been hard, yes, Astrid knew that. And yet, Astrid had never felt alone or abandoned, or worried she wasn't loved. Wasn't that the message she wanted her child to have?

Suddenly, Astrid missed her mother with such aching fierceness she couldn't even think. She rushed back into the house and grabbed her phone. Her fingers shaking, she looked up her mom's phone number and pressed 'Send.' "I can't believe I'm doing this," she muttered as her hands shook. The loon called again, and Astrid shivered, desperate to hear her mother's voice and to know she was all right.

The phone beeped twice, and a recording told her that the number she'd dialed was no longer in service. Disappointment raged through her, a raw, stark loss that crumbled her to the couch. She pressed her forehead to her hands at the sudden gaping loneliness. How would she find her mother?
How?
All she had was her brother and... Harlan! He might be gone, but he did have a cell phone. Astrid quickly called her brother, who picked up on the first ring. His voice was rough and raw, as if he'd been in a fight. "You okay?" he asked bluntly, without preamble, and she knew he had answered the phone only out of concern for her.

"Yes, fine, but I want to find Mom. Do you know where she is?" Astrid held her breath after she blurted out the question.

There was a long silence. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because I want to see her. Do you know?"

Another long silence. So long that she began to think he'd hung up on her, or walked away from the phone. "Harlan?"

"She's sick, Astrid."

Astrid gripped the phone. "Sick? What do you mean sick?"

"She's in a hospital in Portland."

"What?" That was so close. Portland was only an hour away. "How do you know? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I've kept track of her," he said. "But I haven't spoken to her since I was about ten. I just like to know where she is."

"What's the name of the hospital?"

Again, silence. "Why don't I go with you?" He made a growling noise of anger and tension. "I can try to be back in a week. We can go then."

"No. I have to do this for me. I want to do it." She grabbed a pen. "Where is she, Harlan? Tell me now!"

"Shit, Astrid. You sure?"

"Yes! I need to see her."

"Fine, but don't invest in her. She will always be who she is."

"I know that," she said. But for the first time in her life, she was okay with it. "Tell me where she is, Harlan."

The moment he gave her the name, she grabbed her keys and sprinted for the door.

* * *

"Room three-fourteen," the receptionist at the front desk told Astrid. "Take the elevators at the end of the hall."

"Great! Thanks!" Her palms sweating, Astrid hurried down the white corridor, squinting against the bright lights of the hospital. It was almost midnight, but she'd managed to convince the nurse to let her visit her mom. She hadn't had to fake her desperation or tears, and she was frantic now to see her. How sick was her mom? How much time had she missed with her mother?

Astrid pounded at the elevator button, tapping her feet restlessly as the elevator slowly dinged its way down to her. After what felt like an eternity, the doors finally opened and she leapt inside and punched the button for the third floor.

Another agonizingly slow ride, during which Astrid got more and more nervous. What would she say? It had been so long, and the words they had exchanged before were so harsh. Such a judgment on each other and their lives.

The doors finally slid open, and for a long moment, Astrid didn't move. She just stared at the off-white hallway with its polished floors. Several medical students hurried by, looking exhausted, but thrilled and excited, as if someone had just come in with some horrific injury that they were going to get to see.

The doors began to close, and Astrid leapt through them, her sneakers squeaking on the tile. The arrows pointed right to room three-fourteen, and slowly she began to walk. Then faster. By the time she reached the room, Astrid was running. She raced into the room. "Mom!"

The room was silent and dark, and for a moment, Astrid couldn't see anything. Finally, her eyes adjusted and she saw two beds. An empty one by the window. A small figure in the one by the door.

Her heart racing, Astrid hurried over to the occupied bed and scooted a chair up to the edge of it. "Mom?" she whispered, leaning over to see the figure.

The light was dim, but she managed to make out the face. Astrid's throat tightened when she saw her mother's familiar features. "Mom," she whispered, unable to keep the tears out of her voice. "I'm here."

Her mother's face was pinched and wrinkled. Her hair was disheveled and messy, which was such a stark difference from the woman who had always looked her best, because people judged based on looks. It was important to be deemed worthy. Astrid touched her hand, and she was shocked to feel how cold her mother's skin was. "Mom? It's me. Astrid. Wake up."

There was no response.

Desperation began to course through her. "Mom," she said more urgently. "Wake up. It's me—"

"She isn't going to wake up."

Astrid jumped and then whirled around. Standing in the doorway was a man with gray hair, a paunch belly and saggy jowls. He was wearing an old sweatshirt and a pair of ratty sneakers, and he was holding a cup of coffee. "Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm Ralph. Rosie's husband. You must be Astrid?"

Astrid squinted as Ralph flicked on the lights. He wasn't polished. He clearly wasn't rich. And he wasn't some hotshot looker. He was ordinary and worn out, but she immediately noticed that his eyes were kind and gentle. "My mom's married?"

Ralph nodded. "It will be two years next week."

"Two years?" Astrid stared at him in shock. None of her mother's marriages had lasted more than six months. And never had she married a guy as ordinary as Ralph.

"Yep." Ralph walked into the room and sat in the chair on the other side of the bed. He set his coffee down and took Rosie's hand in his. "Rosie," he said softly. "Astrid's here to see you. Did you know that?"

Astrid was shocked by the tenderness in his voice, by the love pouring out of him. No man had ever spoken to her mother like that. No one had ever held Rosie's hand so gently. Stunned, she looked at her mother's face, and then her heart went still when she saw Rosie in the light. She looked a hundred years old, with wrinkles and sallow skin. She looked like she was dying. "What's wrong with her?"

He met her gaze. "She's almost out of time, Astrid. She went into a coma this morning, and she won't come out of it. She has maybe a few hours left."

"What?" Panic hammered at Astrid. "But she can't die. I need to talk to her."

Ralph's eyes narrowed, and she thought she saw a flash of bitterness. "For years, she's been waiting for you to call her. For years, I've been trying to talk her into calling you. Neither of you did a damn thing, and now it's too late."

"But—"

"Talk to her now. She'll hear you. I'll give you a few minutes. Call me if there's a change." Ralph pressed his lips to Rosie's forehead, then grabbed his coffee and walked out, leaving Astrid with her mother.

For a long moment, Astrid simply stared at Rosie. She didn't know what to say. How could she apologize for a lifetime of not appreciating her own mother in two minutes? Tears burned in her eyes, and she tentatively reached for her mother's hand again. "Mom." Her voice cracked and she had to clear her throat. "Mom," she tried again. "I just want you to know that I love you. I always did, and I know you did the best you could for me."

There was no response, and Astrid gripped the bony hand more tightly. Her mother was only forty-seven.
Forty-seven.
And her life was over? How was that possible? It was so unfair. Astrid swallowed. "So, Ralph seems nice. It seems like he loves you—" She paused when she saw the wedding ring on her mother's hand.

It had a tiny diamond, no bigger than the head of a pin, and a plain wedding band. Her mother had always had huge diamonds, even if they were low quality. Anything to parade around and show the world she belonged to someone. To have such a plain ring meant one thing: Ralph hadn't had money to offer her mother. He'd had only love, and that had been enough for Rosie.

After eight marriages, countless men and a lifetime of being on the run, her mother had finally married for love. "Mom," she whispered, her heart filling. "I'm happy you found him." But even as the words left her mouth, she realized the tragedy of it. Her mom had found love too late. Death had come just when she'd found her place. "Dammit," she said. "That's not fair!"

Tears burned in her eyes and she bowed her head, pressing her mom's palm to her forehead. God, to feel her mother's hand on her again, it was too much. It was like she was a child again, feeling sick, and her mom would test her for fever. "Don't die," she whispered. "Please don't die. I'm so sorry that I never appreciated you. I'm so sorry I got mad at you. You were right about Paul. I lost the baby, and he left me." The words began to tumble out, hundreds of confessions and emotions she'd held so tightly for so long. "I'm pregnant," she finally whispered. "If everything goes okay, you'll have a grandbaby." She started to cry. "I wish that it could meet you, and see what a brave woman its grandma is."

She realized then that her mom hadn't been crazy or irresponsible. Her mom truly had been brave, fighting the world for Astrid and for herself, trying to make a living as best she could. She'd managed to find her way in a world that didn't favor women who didn't have an education or a background or a family to help them. Astrid was the weak one. She was the one who had lived in constant fear of bad things, of the world disapproving, of someone rejecting her. She was the one who had hidden from life, while Rosie had embraced it and gallivanted through it, finding pleasure and happiness wherever she could. "Dammit," she said. "I love you, Mom. I'm not ready to do this alone."