Nick listened intently. “You aren’t really considering taking in a boarder, are you?”
“Actually, I am.” Joan had been taken by the story Charlene told of the nursing student. All the poor girl needed was a hand up and a decent place to live.
Her son shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Why not?” Joan wasn’t defensive, only curious at how adamant Nick seemed to feel.
“It would be a mistake to let a stranger into the house, Mom.”
“She has excellent references, or so I’ve heard. I plan to check them out myself, of course.”
Nick listened intently. “I don’t want to make a big deal out of this, Mom. The choice is yours.”
“But you’d rather I didn’t.”
He nodded. “You wanted my opinion, and you got it. All I ask is that you carefully think this through before you decide.”
She mulled over his words and then sighed. “I appreciate your input.”
“Glad you asked. Anything else on your mind?”
Now that he mentioned it, there was. “Emmie thinks I should find a grief therapy group.” The conversation with her sister had stayed in her mind, although she wasn’t keen on the idea of spilling her heartache out to a group of strangers. Since her son was happy to share his thoughts, she might as well get his feedback on this.
“Aunt Emmie said that?” Nick asked. The wine seemed to relax him, too.
“Emmie feels that I’ve never dealt with the grief I have over the loss of your father.”
Nick’s look became solemn. “I’m going to tell you the truth, Mom. I think it’s a good idea. It wasn’t just Dad you lost. Everything changed, and it hit you hard.”
He said this as though she hadn’t been aware of the losses. Hanging her head, she agreed. “It did.”
“I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but we both know you’ve changed since Dad died. There’ve been more times than I can count that I wanted to talk to you and realized you weren’t hearing me.”
“When?” she asked, shocked that this could possibly be true.
“I was thinking about buying a house and have been saving up for one for the last couple years. With the housing market high, I worried if the time was right and wanted your advice, remember?”
“Vaguely,” she said, and bit into her lower lip before she realized what she was doing. “I’m sorry.”
“No worries, Mom, I decided to wait a bit anyway.”
Joan felt bad for letting her son down. In order to not ruin their evening, she asked, “Do you remember Joe and Gennie Davis?”
“Sure. I used to hang with Sam, remember? What about them?”
Joan took in a breath before she answered. The wine had loosened her tongue, and after what Nick had mentioned, her mind was whirling.
“After the funeral, she told me that after Joe died she saw a counselor she highly recommended and gave me her name and phone number.”
“You never made the call, did you?”
Joan shook her head. “No. I don’t know what I did with it and doubt I could find it now.”
“Then call Gennie. I bet she’d be happy to hear from you.”
Still Joan hesitated.
“Mom,” Nick said, shaking his head. “You need to do this.”
His insistence surprised her. It seemed her son had strong opinions.
Nick closed his eyes and released a heavy sigh. “Mom, you mean the world to me and Steve. We love you, but we don’t know how best to help you out of this slump. I think talking to a counselor will do you a world of good.”
Leaning closer, he lowered his voice as if he didn’t want anyone listening to their conversation. “The thing is…being around you is hard sometimes. You’re so sad, and it makes me sad to see you like this.”
Joan’s eyes widened as she struggled to accept what her son was saying. She hadn’t realized how her grief had affected her sons. Absorbed in her own misery, not once had she considered that her children had not only lost their father, but in many ways her as well.
“Steve and I have been worried about you for a long time and didn’t know what to do or if we should say anything. We thought, you know, that all you needed was time to get over losing Dad, but it’s been four years now and you’re no better now than after Dad first died.”
Joan opened and closed her mouth. Instinctively she wanted to argue how off-base her sons were and then realized they were right. She felt trapped in her grief, lost and floundering.
“I’m making progress,” she said instead.
“I hope so, Mom, for your sake as much as for Steve and me.”
Joan had no clue her sons had been overly concerned about her. “I’ll admit I’ve been in the doldrums for a while now.”
“Mom, it’s more than a while. I’m so happy to see you making an effort to take care of yourself.”
Although her throat had narrowed to the point she could barely speak, she said, “You’re right.”
“Then you’ll get the name of that counselor?”
“I will,” she promised.
Nick eased back in his seat and studied her for a long, tense moment. “We good?” he asked, as though he feared his honesty had bruised their once close relationship.
“More than good,” she assured him, and while she wanted to close her eyes and lick her wounds, she forced a smile.
Nick’s face revealed his relief. “It’ll be great to have my mom back,” he said.
It would be great for Joan, too.
Chapter 7
Maggie wasn’t sure what her next move would be. She’d had such high hopes after the interview with Mrs. Royce.
It had all felt so positive. She needed to move, get some boundaries and distance from her father and his drinking. The house no longer felt like her home, and hadn’t since her mother’s death.
He wouldn’t be able to pay the electric bill. It went without saying he’d blown his disability check on beer.
Avoiding the inevitable, Maggie remained at the library until it closed, studying for her finals, struggling against the uncertain future that filled her with dread.
With nowhere else to go, she finally headed to her father’s house. Noticing that the mailbox was stuffed, Maggie pulled everything free and with a heavy heart headed inside. As was the norm, her father sat in his ratty-looking recliner, a beer bottle in his hand while staring at the television.
“You bring me dinner?” he asked.
“Sorry, I wasn’t able to swing by.” And she hadn’t, discouraged as she was after hearing back from Mrs. Royce.
“But I’m hungry.” Roy looked at her with pleading eyes.
“I am, too, but there are a couple cans of soup in the cupboard. I’ll heat those up for dinner. Besides, eating out gets expensive.”
“What about your tip money?”
“Dad, I needed gas. I’ve been putting off an oil change.”
Her father grumbled under his breath, as if she had let him down and he was now deeply disappointed in her.
Maggie ignored him while she shuffled through the mail, much of which contained past-due notices. She tore open the one from the electric company and saw the date on which the lights would be shut off. Two days. The only way to keep that from happening was to pay the full bill. It had been in arrears for several months, and there was no way Maggie could make a payment that was nearly a thousand dollars. It was hard enough living with her father with electricity; she couldn’t imagine what it would be like without it.