“Well, of course they did.” Lydia looked pointedly at her youngest son, then at Jane.
Her stomach lurched. She sometimes wondered if their phobia had grown because she was really the one with the issue. “I’m trying to help them get over their fears. And so far, it seems to be working.” She was so thankful for that. They’d taken to the captain, to the station, and especially to the truck.
How she’d escaped the fire, she still didn’t remember. It had all happened so fast. She remembered going with Stephen to help the children. Remembe
red going back inside to grab her purse, of all things. But how had she gotten out? Why had she lived and Stephen hadn’t?
She didn’t talk much about her husband’s passing. It was her cross to bear, one she rarely shared with anyone else. Had found it too hard to comprehend those first few months when she’d been brought back to reality, and then once more time had passed, she’d found it too hard to bring him up.
So she just avoided it. Baby steps, she told herself. It was all she could do.
But it didn’t feel like enough.
“Well, I’m glad it’s helping, but I can understand why they’re so fearful. Fire killed their father and damaged their mother,” Lydia said in that familiar tone of voice that brooked no argument.
And Jane certainly didn’t feel like arguing with her, not today. She’d come over to her parents’ house for breakfast, and now, she already wanted to escape. The weather was gorgeous, a perfect fall morning with crisp, clear skies and a slight breeze that brought with it the first hints of winter. There was a cold edge in the wind that would soon turn downright painful in the coming months when snow and freezing temperatures accompanied it.
“I really don’t want to talk about this.” Jane pushed her chair away from the table and stood, as did her brother. “I think I’ll head back home. Thanks for breakfast, Mom. Tell Dad hello when he calls.” He was out of town for business—hence her mom’s invitation for breakfast. Lydia got lonely without anyone around to take care of.
“Jane, if you don’t talk about it now, when will you?” The frown of concern on her mother’s face spoke volumes, but Jane didn’t want to ruin her Saturday with a depressing discussion about death and loss and moving on. It had been almost two years since the fire. She’d rather focus on the present, not dwell on the past.
She just wanted to walk back to the house while she pushed Sophia in her stroller and enjoy the weather. Maybe stop by the little corner store on the way and pick up a few necessities to take them through the rest of the weekend. Pull out her camera and take photos of the kids this afternoon playing in the backyard. Normal, everyday stuff.
That’s what she needed right now—and so did her kids. More than anything.
“Some other time, Mom.” She bent, pressed a quick kiss to her mother’s soft cheek. “I appreciate your concern. Love you.”
“You want me to drive you home?” Her brother looked a little lost, as if he didn’t want to be left alone with Mom, but Jane shook her head.
“No, it’s okay. The walk will do us good. ’Bye.”
She went into the living room and gathered her little family, donning coats and putting on shoes in a flurry. Panic clawed at her, making her anxious, needy to get the heck out of her parents’ suddenly oppressive house. She fled out the front door, slamming it behind her with a loud bang. She grabbed the stroller from the front porch and stuffed Sophia into the seat.
“Are you okay?” Lexi asked as she followed down the front walk.
“I just needed fresh air.” Jane breathed deeply, the cool clean mountain air filling her lungs, clearing her head. She smiled down at Lexi. “I feel much better already.”
Lexi’s dark brows crinkled. “What happened? Did Grandma make you mad?”
Jane realized her daughter was far too perceptive for her age. Most likely because of all she’d had to deal with in her short life. And Jane hated that. She wanted to give Lexi back her innocence, keep her safe and protected from all the horror in life.
She had a feeling it was too late.
“Nothing happened and Grandma is fine. Don’t worry about it,” Jane answered, keeping her tone light as she started to push the stroller down the sidewalk. “Want to go to the store?”
All three of them got excited, talking animatedly about what they were going to buy once they got there, and Jane half listened to their chatter, enjoying the sound of their high-pitched voices. How happy they were with the simple pleasure of going shopping, with the possibility of getting candy or a pack of gum.
Life was okay, Jane realized as they walked along the old, cracked sidewalk. She stepped over a bump, wanted to laugh a little at the rattling she gave Sophia, but her daughter didn’t seem to mind. Little giggles came from the front of the stroller.
Jane slowed her pace, took in her surroundings. She needed to live in the here and now, not delve into the past or worry about the future. Stephen had taken care of his family with a considerable insurance policy, but the majority of that had already been spent on her medical care. Insurance hadn’t covered everything, unfortunately.
But she didn’t need a lot of money to live, not right now. And she had her family. Even though her mother drove her crazy, she meant well. The holidays were coming up, Jane’s favorite time of year, and though last year’s Christmas season had been a quiet, somber time, especially because she’d still been physically recovering as well as an emotional wreck, she vowed not to have that happen again this year.
They needed to make new memories, she and the children. Start fun traditions and celebrate the beauty of the season. She hadn’t ever been one to decorate for Thanksgiving but she promised herself she would this year. Making homemade turkeys out of little handprints and filling vases with twigs and leaves would be a start.
Yes, she was going to make things magical this year. Her children deserved it.
Her left knee ached, but she ignored it. Her physical therapist had told her that exercise would do her good, and she was following his instructions.