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.
Ripples, she thought. Grief had endless consequences. Pushing that thought aside, she went to the front door and knocked quickly—before she lost her nerve.
Jude opened the door. “Lexi,” she said, obviously surprised.
“I want to give you something for Grace.”
“She’s up in Zach’s old room, watching a movie.”
“Oh. I didn’t think she’d be here.”
“Would you like to see her?”
Lexi knew she should say no, but how could she? She nodded. Unable to dredge up words to accompany the gesture, she turned away from Jude and went up the stairs to Zach’s old room. At the door, she paused just long enough to draw a strengthening breath, then she knocked on the door, heard a chirpy come in, and opened the door.
“Hi, Mommy. What are you doing here?” Grace sat up in Zach’s bed, frowning.
Lexi actually stumbled. She tried to cover her mistake with a smile, but realized that she’d done that badly, too.
It was a lot to handle all at once—Grace’s beautiful face, her saying, mommy … and Zach’s room.
Everywhere she looked, she saw reminders of the boy with whom she’d fallen in love—a tangle of plastic dinosaurs, a football, a colorful collection of Disney videotapes, green-spined video games. But it was the worn copy of Jane Eyre sitting on the dresser that killed her. She went to it, picked it up, felt its slick, crinkled cover … saw her name, scrawled in a lost penmanship on the inside cover. He’d kept it. All these years.
“You’re not coming to take me away, are you?” Grace asked worriedly.
Lexi put the book down and turned to face her daughter. “No. May I sit next to you?”
“Okay.”
Lexi climbed into the bed (Zach’s bed, but she shouldn’t think about things that didn’t matter anymore) and scooted as close to Grace as she dared. “I scared you the other day.”
“Nothin’ scares me. I punched Jacob in the nose and he’s way bigger’n me.”
“I shouldn’t have said I wanted you to live with me. That wasn’t what I meant to say at all.”
“Oh. That. You don’t want me to live with you?”
Lexi flinched. “I don’t know much about being a mom. And I can see how much you love being with your daddy.”
Grace seemed to relax at that. “Do you know how to make cupcakes?”
“No. Why?”
“I dunno. Moms just make stuff.”
Lexi leaned back against Zach’s headboard. The bulletin board across the room, above the dresser, was still full of newspaper clippings and ribbons he’d won in high school. For what, she couldn’t even remember. “So I guess you want the kind of mom who makes cupcakes and walks you to school.”
Grace laughed and covered her mouth to stifle the sound. “I live way too far to walk. Samantha Green’s mom makes everyone a cape for Halloween. Do you know how to sew?”
“Nope. I pretty much blow in the good-mother category.” Lexi looked down at her daughter, feeling loss yawn inside of her.
“I wish I had a chipmunk,” Grace said. “I’d let you play with it.”