Between Duty and Desire by Leanne Banks

in Atlanta. I’ll have a lot to do. But I was thinking about when Dad died. I was wondering how you kept it alltogether. I remember catching you crying a few times, but you didn’t ever fall apart.”
    Silence followed. “Well, that was because of you, Brock. If it had been left up to me, I would have curled into a ball and never left the house. I was lost without your father. But I still had my precious son and I needed to be strong for you.”
    Brock’s heart tightened at the memory. He remembered that period of time just after his father’s death. He’d been confused and lost, but his mother had seemed so strong. He was surprised to learn how hard it had been for her. “You did a good job, Mom. I didn’t know.”
    She sighed. “Everyone needs a reason to get up in the morning. You were mine,” she said, and he heard the smile in her voice. “When someone close to you dies, it’s a struggle to go on, but you just have to. You have to get up, get dressed and go out in the world. Sometimes it’s little things that help. Smelling flowers, holding a baby, striking up a conversation with someone you don’t know. And for women, shopping can be a panacea, even if we don’t buy anything. I remember going shopping twice a week after your father died. I didn’t usually buy anything, but it got me out among people. And then I joined a garden club and got a job. And when I met Sam, I thought he could be a good father for you.”
    She didn’t sound too sure with that last reference to his stepfather. “He was in a tough position,” Brock conceded.
    “And you’re both bullheaded,” his mother said.
    “True. Maybe that’s why you love us both so much,” he said.
    She laughed with pleasure and the sound pleased him. “You’ve always been a rascal. Are you taking care of yourself? Eating good food? Taking your vitamins and getting your rest?”
    “Yes, Mom,” he said, stifling a groan.
    “Don’t you yes, Mom me,” she fussed. “We nearly lost you, so I’m allowed to worry.”
    “You didn’t lose me. I’m still ornery as ever.”
    “So when will you come to see me?”
    “Soon. Two or three months.”
    “Promise?”
    “Promise. Thanks, Mom.”
    “Anytime, dear. Take care of yourself.”
    “You, too,” he said and hung up the phone.
    He thought back to the conversation and made a mental list of what his mother had said. Smelling flowers, joining clubs, getting a job, shopping. He wrinkled his nose in distaste at the last activity, and Callie already had a job. He would try the others first.
     

    Brock didn’t know much about flowers, so he got two of each, along with a couple of big pots, some bags of dirt and gardening tools. After he hauled everything onto Callie’s front porch, he rang the doorbell.
    She answered more quickly than ever, and she actually looked as if she’d been awake for a while. Hisheart lifted at the sight of her. Her hair was pulled back in some kind of messy bun. He wished she would wear it down. Her legs looked lean and shapely despite her loose shorts.
    Glancing at the flowers for a long moment, she finally met his gaze. “Just a guess, but I’m thinking Rob didn’t tell you that I have a black thumb.”
    “He told me you don’t have a black thumb. You just get distracted and forget to water plants.”
    She crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, they’re not like pets. They don’t remind you to give them water—until it’s too late.”
    “I have a solution for that,” he said.
    “What?” she asked skeptically.
    “I’ll tell you after we plant the flowers.”
    She gave a put-upon sigh, but joined him on the porch. “Is this part of my recovery?”
    “Yes.” He gave her a trowel and opened one of the bags of dirt.
    “Where’d you get this idea?”
    “My mother.” He dumped some dirt into each of the large pots.
    She looked at him with her eyebrows raised. “Your mother? I didn’t know you ever talked with your mother.”
    Brock resisted the urge