“Hello?” I answer.
“Willow, it’s Sarah.”
“Is everything ok?”
“It’s your mother. She’s lost it. Willow, she had a visitor yesterday and now she’s beside herself. Something’s really upset her, and she keeps asking for you. I don’t know who the visitor was, the other ladies said it was a man and that she agreed to see him. I don’t know what’s happening.”
My blood runs cold.
“Do you know his name?”
“Kane, I believe. Sorry, I don’t know more. I wasn’t here.”
I swallow and shudder. My father visited her, just like Jagger predicted. I don’t have a great deal of time for my mother but seeing someone she thought was dead isn’t something anyone should have to endure. I know how that must have gone down in her mind and it wouldn’t have been good.
“I’m coming. Give me two hours.”
“Thank you.”
She hangs up and I put my phone down, turning to glance at the girls.
“Mom?” Jenny asks.
I nod.
“What’s wrong?” Jagger asks, returning to the kitchen and catching a look at my expression.
Do I tell him?
Mom won’t talk to me if someone else is around, she’s very strange with visitors. I need to know what my father wanted and the only way to do that is for me to go alone, but it’s not safe for me to do so.
“I need to go and visit my mother, will you take me?” I ask.
He studies me, then nods. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, they said she’s been asking for me. If I don’t go it’ll cause her more upset.”
Jagger nods again, but he doesn’t look like he believes my story. Still, he doesn’t argue. I get dressed and then we get into his truck and begin the journey to visit her. The drive is quiet, too quiet, and after a few moments it’s clear that Jagger isn’t falling for my lies.
“You sure everything is good?”
I’m staring out the window, so many things are going through my mind right now.
“Yeah, everything is fine.”
“Everything don’t seem fine. Don’t lie to me, Willow...”
“I’m not lying to you,” I snap. “I just don’t like visiting my mother, okay? You good with that.”
He exhales but doesn’t push any further.
When we arrive, Jagger tells me he’ll wait in the car to make sure I’m not followed in. I nod and get out without another word, walking inside.
I’m not ready for this.
I’m never ready for this.
14
“You look well, honey.”
Sarah, the lady who has been working here for as long as I can remember, hugs me the moment I step through the front doors. She’s lovely and has always been so kind to me the few times I’ve been in here. She knows what it’s like and she understands. She’s also really good to mom, which is something that isn’t always easy to do.
“Thanks,” I smile weakly, pulling back. “How is she?”
“Better knowing you are coming.”
“I’m sure,” I mutter. “Let’s go then.”
She signs me in and then walks me through security and down the peach-colored halls. The rooms are all secured with keypads on the doors, and in the more serious sections, guards. When we get to my mother’s room, Sarah punches in the code and opens the door. It takes me a moment to be able to step inside, mostly because I’m terrified of how this will go, but after a deep breath, I manage to force myself.
My mother is sitting by the window, staring out. Her once radiant red hair is pulled back into a plait and is now dull. She has lost weight, I can tell that before she even turns to face us. The moment she does, her eyes fall on me and flare, just a touch. I give her a weak smile. She stands and walks over, taking my face in her hands. I close my eyes; I don’t deal well with my mother touching me. She pulls me in for a hug like always, and I let her. I don’t hug her back, just pat her weakly.
“Mom, is everything okay?” I ask, pulling myself away from her.
“Sarah, may I speak to her alone?”
My mothers voice comes out soft and whimsical. Very unlike the voice I remember.
“Yes, of course. I’ll be right outside.”
Sarah leaves and I sit down at the table in the center of the room. My mother joins me.
“Were you going to tell me?”
She gets right to the point, her voice no longer soft like it was a second ago.
“I haven’t had the chance, mom. You know I have been through a lot.”
She stares at me. “I thought he was dead. All these years he let me suffer.”
Of course it’s about her. It always is.
“It wasn’t easy to take for any of us. Jenny is devastated, too.”
“He’s not even her father,” she scoffs, shaking her head, “all this time he has been out there while I’ve been mourning.”
God.
Here we go.
“Well, he’s a liar. What can I say,” I mutter, “I just wanted to see if you were okay.”