you-heard-me stare. “Jed is a good man. He loves you.”
“I love Jed as a friend. I don’t love him that way.”
Her mother pointed at her with the sponge. “Romance is for fools. I wish I had listened to my brain instead of my hormones or my heart. I wouldn’t be alone. Your father left as soon as things got tough.” Mae lowered her voice. “Bill was a lot of work back then. The therapy and doctor’s visits. The bills.”
Fear sprinted through Mandy’s belly. She dumped the remains of her coffee in the sink. Could she handle Bill all by herself? Jed had been a big help these last few weeks. She barely remembered her father, but her memory of the night he left was clear. At five, she learned all about abandonment. Taking care of Bill alone was a frightening proposition. What if she wasn’t as patient as her mother? What if she screwed up and he got hurt? What if something happened to her? Bill would end up homeless or in a state facility, completely vulnerable.
“Jed would never leave you,” her mother said.
Mandy shook her head. “It’s not enough, Mom.”
“It should be. I worry about you. I’d feel much better if I knew you’d be with Jed. He’d take care of you and the inn. He’s used to Bill.”
“I can’t marry Jed.” But as she objected, a little voice in her head said why not? She reached for the bottle of aspirin in the cabinet.
“I’m so glad I have a good girl like you, but I worry. You shouldn’t have to do this all alone.”
In front of the garage, Jed got out of his truck and opened the overhead door. Yesterday she’d cleaned leaves out of the gutter, and today Jed arrived to trim her tree. He couldn’t control her, so he’d do what he could to make sure she was safe. Maybe her mother was right. Jed would take care of her. Exhaustion pounded in her temples. With three hours of sleep and a whole day of innkeeping ahead of her, being taken care of sounded pretty appealing.
CHAPTER SIX
Boston, February 1975
Scuff, scuff, scuff.
Nathan looked at the ceiling. He didn’t need to go upstairs to identify the source of the sound. Above his head, his mother’s slippers moved across the hardwood as she paced the length of her bedroom. It’s what she did now.
Cross-legged in front of the TV, Nathan tuned out the Fonz and concentrated on the low conversation in the kitchen. He shivered. The redbrick fireplace in the corner sat cold and empty. He pulled the afghan off the sofa and wrapped it around his shoulders.
“I don’t know what to do.” Despair edged Dad’s voice, as always when he talked about Mom these days. She hadn’t been the same since Christmas, when she started wandering the house at night instead of sleeping. It was as if the insomnia she’d suffered from for years went berserk.
Scuff, scuff, scuff.
Fear wormed through his stomach.
“Aye. It’s verra bad indeed, Robert.” Nathan’s uncle Aaron, Mom’s brother, had just come from Scotland a few months ago. When he talked about Mom, sadness thickened his accent. Tonight it sounded like a foreign language. “Bloody hell. Our mother had the same sickness. Did Gwen ever tell you about that?”
Probably not. Nathan had never met anyone in his mom’s family except Uncle Aaron. Mom’s parents were dead, and her few remaining relatives still lived in the mountains of her homeland.
“I dinna think so.”
“I’ve taken her to five doctors. The medicine they gave her made her worse.” Dad sniffed and his breath hitched.
Was he crying? Nathan’s stomach cramped. Couldn’t be. Dad didn’t cry. Dad was tough. Nathan pulled his knees to his aching chest and wrapped both arms around them, but he still felt like he was going to fly apart.
“Doctors canna help her, Robert.” Uncle Aaron’s voice rang with certainty.
Even from the rec room, Nathan’s dinner hardened in his stomach.
“The priest is coming tomorrow to talk to her,” Dad said.
“You must listen to me, Robert. No one can help her.
“I love Jed as a friend. I don’t love him that way.”
Her mother pointed at her with the sponge. “Romance is for fools. I wish I had listened to my brain instead of my hormones or my heart. I wouldn’t be alone. Your father left as soon as things got tough.” Mae lowered her voice. “Bill was a lot of work back then. The therapy and doctor’s visits. The bills.”
Fear sprinted through Mandy’s belly. She dumped the remains of her coffee in the sink. Could she handle Bill all by herself? Jed had been a big help these last few weeks. She barely remembered her father, but her memory of the night he left was clear. At five, she learned all about abandonment. Taking care of Bill alone was a frightening proposition. What if she wasn’t as patient as her mother? What if she screwed up and he got hurt? What if something happened to her? Bill would end up homeless or in a state facility, completely vulnerable.
“Jed would never leave you,” her mother said.
Mandy shook her head. “It’s not enough, Mom.”
“It should be. I worry about you. I’d feel much better if I knew you’d be with Jed. He’d take care of you and the inn. He’s used to Bill.”
“I can’t marry Jed.” But as she objected, a little voice in her head said why not? She reached for the bottle of aspirin in the cabinet.
“I’m so glad I have a good girl like you, but I worry. You shouldn’t have to do this all alone.”
In front of the garage, Jed got out of his truck and opened the overhead door. Yesterday she’d cleaned leaves out of the gutter, and today Jed arrived to trim her tree. He couldn’t control her, so he’d do what he could to make sure she was safe. Maybe her mother was right. Jed would take care of her. Exhaustion pounded in her temples. With three hours of sleep and a whole day of innkeeping ahead of her, being taken care of sounded pretty appealing.
CHAPTER SIX
Boston, February 1975
Scuff, scuff, scuff.
Nathan looked at the ceiling. He didn’t need to go upstairs to identify the source of the sound. Above his head, his mother’s slippers moved across the hardwood as she paced the length of her bedroom. It’s what she did now.
Cross-legged in front of the TV, Nathan tuned out the Fonz and concentrated on the low conversation in the kitchen. He shivered. The redbrick fireplace in the corner sat cold and empty. He pulled the afghan off the sofa and wrapped it around his shoulders.
“I don’t know what to do.” Despair edged Dad’s voice, as always when he talked about Mom these days. She hadn’t been the same since Christmas, when she started wandering the house at night instead of sleeping. It was as if the insomnia she’d suffered from for years went berserk.
Scuff, scuff, scuff.
Fear wormed through his stomach.
“Aye. It’s verra bad indeed, Robert.” Nathan’s uncle Aaron, Mom’s brother, had just come from Scotland a few months ago. When he talked about Mom, sadness thickened his accent. Tonight it sounded like a foreign language. “Bloody hell. Our mother had the same sickness. Did Gwen ever tell you about that?”
Probably not. Nathan had never met anyone in his mom’s family except Uncle Aaron. Mom’s parents were dead, and her few remaining relatives still lived in the mountains of her homeland.
“I dinna think so.”
“I’ve taken her to five doctors. The medicine they gave her made her worse.” Dad sniffed and his breath hitched.
Was he crying? Nathan’s stomach cramped. Couldn’t be. Dad didn’t cry. Dad was tough. Nathan pulled his knees to his aching chest and wrapped both arms around them, but he still felt like he was going to fly apart.
“Doctors canna help her, Robert.” Uncle Aaron’s voice rang with certainty.
Even from the rec room, Nathan’s dinner hardened in his stomach.
“The priest is coming tomorrow to talk to her,” Dad said.
“You must listen to me, Robert. No one can help her.
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