“Of course.”
“And that’s why you wanted me to take over the gallery. So we’d have something in common.”
“Did you ever wonder where the gallery name came from? JACE. Your father named it for all of us: Judith Anne, Caroline, Edward. He thought we’d always be together in it.” Mother sighed. “Another regret of mine.”
Jude got to her feet. The trembling in her hands eased; suddenly she felt stronger than she had in months, maybe years. She didn’t know how she would correct all the wrong paths she’d taken, but it was time to start undoing her mistakes. One at a time. “On Saturday, I’m going to take Gracie to the aquarium. Why don’t you come with us?”
Mother gave her an uncertain smile. “Really? I could meet you at the ferry terminal. Say 11:00. We could have lunch at Ivar’s after. You and your father used to love throwing french fries to the gulls.”
Jude remembered it in a rush: standing by the railing with her parents, throwing fries to the gulls teeming overhead. That’s it, punkin … kid’s got quite an arm, doesn’t she, Caro?
“He loved us both,” Jude said.
Her mother nodded. “It’s good to talk about him finally.”
And just like that, Jude knew what she had to do. Maybe she’d known for years, but just now, this instant, in the sweet glow of this new start, she was ready to try. “I can’t stay for lunch. I’m sorry. There’s something I need to do.”
“Of course,” her mother said. If she was surprised by the sudden change, she didn’t show it. She led the way to the elevator.
There, they stared at each other for a long time; in her mother’s aged porcelain face, Jude saw the long-forgotten image of another woman, one who’d loved to paint.
“I’ve missed you, Judith,” her mother said softly.
“Me, too. I’ll see you Saturday.”
Jude left the austere penthouse and returned to the underground parking structure on Virginia Street. From there, she drove out of the dark lot and into a rainy day. Driving carefully, she arrived at the Capitol Hill Community Center. There, she sat in her car for more than ninety minutes, waiting. Every moment she sat there was an act of courage; it would have been so much easier to drive away. That was what she’d done a dozen times before …
Finally, a car pulled up and parked in front of her, and then another. Within a few minutes, she could see people going in. Most of them were women, walking alone in the rain, without umbrellas.
Jude knew how dangerous and frightening this choice was, but she knew how dangerous the other choice was, too.
Love is an act of will.
For too long she’d been afraid of it.
Her hand was shaking as she opened her car door and stepped out into the rain. She fisted her hands and walked across the street.
A woman came up beside her. She was young, with flowing black hair and brown eyes that were full of tears.
Jude fell into step with the woman, although neither one said anything.
A sign beside the open door read: Compassionate Friends. 2:00 P.M. Grief support group.
Jude paused, maybe even stumbled. Fear opened up inside her so fast and sharp she couldn’t breathe. It occurred to her to turn and run. She wasn’t ready for this. She didn’t want to do this. What if they wanted her to let go of Mia?
The woman beside her touched Jude’s hand.
Jude gasped, turned. She looked at the woman with the dark hair, and now she saw more than tears. She saw understanding. Here was another woman who had empty eyes and a pinched mouth and had forgotten to color her hair. Jude knew this woman knew how it felt to be both filled with pain and achingly numb.
Is this what I look like? Jude thought suddenly. She did what she’d never done in her life: she reached out to a stranger and held on. Together, they walked through the open doors.
*
In the end, it was exactly as it had been in the beginning. No one had a job for an ex-convict with a sociology degree and no real experience. As her prospects dwindled, so did her hope, until by late Thursday afternoon, she knew she was just going through the motions.
Now, as she sat on her driftwood log at LaRiviere Park, she understood.
She’d never had a chance, really.
Lexi closed her eyes at that.
She knew what she had to do. The hours down here had been a bandage, nothing more.
It was time. She’d put off the inevitable long enough.
She walked over to where she’d left her bike and climbed on, pedaling up the hill toward the main road. She bypassed Night Road and circled back to the Farraday house. Holding tightly to the grips, she made her bumping way down the gravel driveway and stopped at the garage. She was shaking so badly it was hard to position the bike near the side wall of the building, and finally she gave up and let the bike fall into the tall grass. She couldn’t help noticing again the runaway garden and remembering how clipped and cared for it once had been.