Mrs. Connelly smiled. “For heaven’s sake,” she mumbled. “Then call me Ms. Naomi. Better?”
Cadence grinned and nodded.
Mrs. Connelly sat back in her seat and studied Cadence’s face. She could tell Cadence wanted to talk about something, and she waited patiently for her to open the conversation. She already knew what it was about.
“Are you really okay with me dating Mark?” Cadence asked. She averted her eyes, fingering the napkin still in her lap.
“Very okay with it,” Mrs. Connelly replied.
“My parents aren’t,” Cadence said softly.
“I know.”
Cadence looked up and shrugged. “I know we should have waited until I graduated, but I still think my parents would have gotten angry.”
“I do, too,” Mrs. Connelly replied.
“Are you embarrassed about the way we met?”
Mrs. Connelly chuckled. “No, honey. And what does it matter what I think anyway?”
“Because I want you to like me.” She wasn’t even bothered that she bared her honesty in such a vulnerable way. For some reason, she trusted that Mark’s mother wouldn’t abuse it.
“Cadence, I like you very much. I mean, I don’t know you that well, but I’m confident that’ll change as we spend more time together. But I already know I like you very much because you make my son deliriously happy.”
Cadence smiled and then her face clouded over. “He has things about his past that he won’t share with me.”
Mrs. Connelly looked concerned. “I can’t tell you those things, honey.”
“I know. I wasn’t asking you to, but I wish he’d open up to me.”
“He will.”
“When?”
“I suspect sooner rather than later. My question is, will you listen and be understanding when he does?”
Cadence’s heart skipped a beat. What the hell was in his past?
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Honey, don’t call me ‘ma’am’. I know it’s southern and polite and all that, but we’re not going to have that kind of relationship. At least, I don’t want to have that kind of relationship. ‘Ma’am’ puts us at a distance, don’t you think?”
Cadence nodded. “Ms. Naomi?”
“Hmm?”
“I miss my family. I miss my parents even though dad hit me and mom walked away from me. Is there something wrong with me that I miss the people who hurt me?”
Mark’s mother stood up and walked around the table to Cadence. She took her arm gently and pulled her to her feet. The two women walked arm in arm towards the house.
“There is nothing wrong with you, Cadence. They’re your parents. And up until a year ago, you had a good relationship with them. It’s normal to miss that. It’s normal to grieve for them.”
Cadence listened.
“I cannot take your mother’s place, but I’ll be the best substitute I can. If you ever need anything. If you want to talk. If you just need someone to listen, I hope you know you can call me.”
“Thank you.”
They reached the back door, and Mrs. Connelly unlinked her arm to open it. Cadence suppressed the urge to reach for her. She didn’t want the connection broken. She felt instantly cold as soon as Mrs. Connelly was no longer touching her.
“Your parents are wrong, honey,” Mrs. Connelly said, ushering her in. “I think they’ll come to this realization, but I think it’ll take time. Your father has too much pride. Your mother has no backbone.”
“Did Mark tell you—”
“He told me enough. Please don’t be upset with him,” she replied.
“I’m not.”
“What you have to decide is what you’ll do once they come knocking for forgiveness.”
“That’s just it. I don’t know.” Cadence thought back to Fanny’s advice in the car on their way home from graduation many months ago: “Be quick to forgive. Slow to anger.” But was it wise to forgive her father for hitting her? Was it prudent to forgive her mother for walking away?
“You need a laugh,” Mrs. Connelly said, interrupting Cadence’s thoughts.
“I do?”
Mrs. Connelly chuckled and led Cadence to the living room.
“I have all kinds of pictures to show you.”
Cadence brightened. “Of Mark?”
“Oh yes. I’ll show you his childhood, and I’ll let him take care of college and beyond.”
Suddenly, her parents were unimportant. She wanted to focus on Mark’s childhood instead. She and Mrs. Connelly laughed long and loud into the evening, perusing photo album after photo album of a little bug collector, and scientist, and skateboarder, and swimmer. Mrs. Connelly shared stories that Cadence knew would mortify Mark. She tucked them safely inside her heart. They didn’t need to be discussed when she returned home. She was quite content to have them for herself—little treasures that acted like puzzle pieces. She started fitting them together in her mind, happy to see a more complete picture of the man she loved.
“So how was it?” Mark asked Cadence when she arrived home. “I thought for sure I’d hear from you.”
Cadence grinned. “It was fantastic.” She plopped down beside him on the couch.
“Fantastic?” He looked genuinely shocked and confused.
“Mmhmm,” she replied.