My mother stepped out carrying nothing.
No shopping bag.
No emergency gift.
No flowers.
Just herself.
She looked thinner. Her hair was pulled back simply. She stood beside the car for a long moment, as if waiting for someone to tell her whether she still belonged on the earth.
I walked down the porch steps.
“Mom.”
“Julia.”
“You can’t just arrive here.”
“I know.” She clasped her hands. “Denise told me it opened today. I asked her not to tell you I was coming because I was afraid you’d say no.”
“I might have.”
“Yes.”
At least she knew.
She looked toward the cottage. Through the window, Emma watched with guarded eyes. Noah stood beside her, compass in hand.
My mother’s mouth trembled.
“I’m not asking to come in.”
“Then why are you here?”
She reached into her coat pocket and took out a small bundle of paper roses.
