After experiencing a life-altering tragedy, Emersyn feels as if her world has collapsed. Attempting to accept her new reality, Emersyn wonders how she can possibly keep going when it feels like her life ended months ago. Until she meets Haven, and s...
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When I make it home that afternoon, I find my mother in the front yard, tinkering in her garden.
This is not an unusual sight. Mom has picked up on plenty of new and strange hobbies since we moved here. I've become rather used to her weeding in the front yard and smoking up the house with her horrible baking concoctions.
What is unusual, however, is the man hunched over at her side.
I study the scene through narrowed eyes as I trek slowly down the driveway after exiting the bus. Spying from a distance, I watch Mom as she digs a hole for some new flowers that are still potted from where she has them lined up in the grass. She is talking animatedly, unknowingly flinging dirt up into the air around her. And then the man next to her is laughing, and my mother's dimples are showing as she smiles–really smiles, a sight that is somewhat of a rarity for her these days.
My stomach twists into knots. It isn't exactly odd to find Beau around my house–he's always helping Mom out with something or other. Despite his presence becoming more common than not, I'm still not entirely sure how to feel about him. On the one hand, it's nice to see Mom smiling again. On the other, I'm not entirely happy to know she's smiling because of some man. A man who is not my father.
Lost in thought, I hardly realize I have made it to the porch until I am standing in the middle of the scene I had previously been watching so intently. I awkwardly return to reality to find I am now smack in between Mom and Beau, both of whom eye me expectantly.
"Hi, honey!" Mom chirps casually, as if it is so totally normal to have Beau around the second I return home. "How was school?"
I glance at Beau out of the corner of my eye. "Um . . . it was fine."
Mom beams, as if this is the best news she has ever heard. I wonder if she is overdoing her reaction out of hopes it will make me less pissed to have walked in on her and Beau. I wouldn't put this past her.
Mom gestures to the flowers she is planting. "Did you want to stick around and help out? We could use a hand."
I hesitate as the word we rolls off of my mother's tongue. I cringe at the way the word falls so naturally, so easily, as if Mom and Beau becoming a we makes any sense.
"I think I'm okay," I retort honestly. I'm not trying to be a brat. I just don't know if I can handle this–whatever it is going on between Mom and the neighbor. Sure, Mom is allowed to have friends. But does she really have to be so comfortable with Beau–of all people? And does she have to smile so much around him?
"I wouldn't want to intrude," I add after a beat of silence, glancing over my shoulder at Beau once more. He waves a hand in greeting, though I don't return the gesture.
When I return my attention to my mother, guilt pangs throughout my chest. For a moment, she appears genuinely disappointed. Her smile wilts and a gleam of sadness rushes through her gaze. Her expression is crestfallen for just a second before lighting up once more–but I don't miss the shadow passing her features just as well as I don't miss its meaning.
