At Home on Ladybug Farm - Donna Ball [100]
He glanced at the floor, around the room, seemed to be searching for something else to say. But he settled on, “Okay. Well, see you.”
Again Lori said, “Whatever,” as he left the room.
She opened her laptop and didn’t think about him again for the rest of the morning.
For the longest time, no one spoke. Carrie sat back in her chair, her expression tight. Bridget’s fingers went to her lips, a quick intake of breath flaring her nostrils. Cici’s hand closed tightly over Lindsay’s and she felt the trembling there.
Mandy’s chin rose a fraction. “I’ve made mistakes,” she said steadily, “and I’ve paid for them. But I’ve been given a second chance. And the one mistake I refuse to make . . .” Her breath caught, and quavered in her throat, and then, with an effort, became strong again. “The one mistake I refuse to make,” she repeated, “is to waste this chance. I’m going to get to know my son before I die.”
“Oh . . . I’m so sorry,” Bridget whispered. Her fingers fluttered to her lap.
Carrie turned a somber gaze on Mandy. “This changes things,” she told her quietly. “You should have told me.”
“It doesn’t change anything,” the other woman replied. Her knuckles whitened. “He’s still my son. You can’t keep him from me.”
Cici felt Lindsay’s surge of breath and she clamped down on her friend’s hand, hard. Then she said, “Ms. Cormier . . . Mandy . . . please forgive me for asking, but—what is your prognosis?”
“There are new protocols being developed every day,” she insisted, meeting their eyes bravely. “I’ve been in remission before. I can fight this thing.”
It sounded like a speech she had given many times before. But there was something in her voice that was not quite convincing, and she must have seen that reflected in their eyes. In a moment she dropped her own gaze and said softly, “It’s spread to my liver. The doctors say less than a year.”
And this time when she looked at them there was desperation in her gaze. “That’s why I have to have my boy with me now, don’t you see? I don’t have much time. There’s so much I’ve missed . . . and I don’t have much time.”
Lindsay said, “But you’re sick and—I’m sorry, but you’re going to get sicker. How can you take care of a teenage boy? Or are you expecting him to take care of you?”
“Lindsay . . .” Cici cautioned. But Lindsay jerked her hand away and gave a single shake of her head, warning both of her friends with the gesture that she would brook no interference.
“All these years he’s believed his mother was dead,” Lindsay went on, holding the other woman’s gaze steadily. “Now he’s going to learn that you abandoned him on purpose, and no matter what you tell him, don’t you see, for the rest of his life he’ll always think that it was because he wasn’t good enough for you to love.” And despite the cloud of hurt and denial that gathered in the other woman’s eyes, she pushed on. “And now, after fifteen years, you come back to claim him—only so that he can watch you die? How can you do that? How can you?”
Mandy stammered, “That’s not what I . . . that’s not how—”
“I know that’s not what you meant to do,” Lindsay said earnestly, leaning forward in her chair. “I know you didn’t mean for your life to turn out this way and I am sorry, truly I am, but I’m begging you, think about this. Think about what you’re doing to this child you’ve never met. He could be—so much. He deserves so much. This isn’t right. It just isn’t right.”
“What do you know about what’s right?” Mandy burst out angrily. “I walked away from my own baby to keep him safe and now, just when I’ve found him again, I’m dying! Don’t you talk to me about what’s right!”
“This is not going to change that!” Lindsay cried. “Don’t you see—”
Carrie interrupted, with a quiet authority that belied her youth, “Thank you, Lindsay. I think you’ve said enough.”
She turned to Mandy. “There are some things we have to discuss,” she said gently. “No one means to make this harder on you than it has to be, but, given the state of your health, have you thought about who will take care of Noah if you no longer can? He is still a minor, you