*
Jude had no idea how long she sat there.
Finally she looked down at her watch, surprised to see that it was time to pick up Grace from day care. In the old days, she would have forgotten her granddaughter on a day like this. She would have spent hours in the closet, perhaps even fallen asleep. Now she went downstairs, found her car keys, and drove over to the Silly Bear, where she parked out front, right on time.
“Hey, Nana,” Grace said wanly when Jude showed up, and it struck Jude suddenly, sharply, what Lexi had said: she’s afraid of you.
On the short drive to Zach’s house, Jude watched Grace in the rearview mirror.
She looked so much like Mia, but for once, it wasn’t the physical similarities that hurt Jude; it was the differences. Mia and Zach had laughed and chattered constantly, exploring their world like a pair of miniature Magellans, confident and happy … and secure in the knowledge that they were loved.
Jude parked the car and helped her granddaughter out of her car seat. Grace scrambled out of the car and bounded up to the house.
“You want to play a game?” Jude said, coming up beside her.
Grace looked up at her in obvious surprise. “You wanna play with me?”
“Sure.”
“Goody!” Grace ran into the house and back to her bedroom. She emerged a few moments later, holding a brightly colored Chutes and Ladders box. “You ready?”
Jude followed Grace to the table.
“You seemed quiet today at day care,” Jude said, moving her game piece forward.
Grace shrugged.
“How come?”
Grace shrugged again. “Jake’s mom brought treats.”
“And you didn’t get any?”
“I got some.” Grace stared down at the board.
“Oh.” Jude said, getting it. “His mom brought treats.”
“Everyone’s mom brings stuff sometimes.”
Jude sat back in her chair. How could this possibly surprise her? For eighteen years, she’d been the mom who brought treats. She’d been the party mom, the field trip mom, the constant presence. But she’d never done any of that for her granddaughter. “I could bring cupcakes sometime.”
“Okay,” Grace said, not looking up.
Again, Jude understood. “It’s not the same as a mom, is it?”
“Are you gonna play?”
“Sure,” Jude said. For the next hour, she concentrated on moving through the multicolored squares. She kept up a steady stream of conversation, and by the second game Grace had started to talk to her.
But she knew Lexi was right: Grace was not a happy little girl. Most of her talk was directed to the small mirror on her wrist, her imaginary friend. And why did children create imaginary playmates? You didn’t need to be a shrink to answer that question. It was because they felt too alone and had no real friends.
Jude was watching Grace so closely she didn’t hear the front door open.
Zach walked into the cabin, tossing his heavy backpack onto the coffee table.
“Daddy!” Grace’s face lit up as she ran into Zach’s arms. He scooped her up and kissed her all over her face, until she giggled and told him to stop.
Miles came in behind him, smiling.
Jude stared at the two of them—the husband she’d loved for so long and practically abandoned and the boy she’d nurtured like a rare flower for so much of his life and then turned away from. She saw the marks that grief had left on their skin, in their eyes, even in their posture, and she knew the part she had played in all of this. She had been the mud that kept them mired in grief. On their own, they might have healed.
You used to be the best mother in the world.
Jude stood up. “I need to talk to you two.”
Zach frowned. “Gracie, why don’t you get your coloring book and crayons? I love watching you color.”
“Okay, Daddy.” She slid out of his arms and scampered off.
Jude clasped her hands together. She had their full attention now, but she was afraid to say the words out loud. “Lexi came to see me today.”
Zach went very still. “What did she want?”
Jude looked at her son. He was a man; young, but a man, and she was so proud of him she could hardly bear it. When in the last few years had she told him that? “She asked me to supervise her visits with Grace. She can’t afford the court-ordered social worker.”
“What did you say?” Miles asked, moving to stand by his son.
“She can’t get to know … her daughter unless I agree,” Jude said, stalling now.