a client.
But I knew where Mom was going, and it wasn ' t just simple adult interaction. " I don ' t think I ' m ready to date, Mom. "
" Then why ' s he here? "
I glanced back at them. They laughed over something with the trolls, though Emma was carrying it a bit too far, as little girls tended to do. At least, as mine tended to do, anyway.
I opened my mouth to say something, but Matthew shushed her, and surprisingly, Emma listened to him.
Imagine that.
" Summer, " my mother said.
I met her gaze. " I don ' t know why I let him come, Mom. Emma wanted it, and frankly, I wanted to make her happy. She misses her dad. "
" She does. But with all the love around her, I don ' t think she ' ll suffer without him. " She dug through the variety of tea bags stored in the cabinet to select whatever herbal brew that would heighten or tighten or straighten whatever chakra was out of alignment today.
The wash of scents hit me, and I couldn ' t help smiling. Mom and her herbs. Most people had flower gardens or vegetable gardens. Mom had her herb gardens. The house always smelled like herbs of some form or another--whatever ones Mom was drying in the back office that week.
" Maybe, maybe not, " I said, and in the back of my mind, remembered growing up without a dad.
My parents separated after Autumn was born. Mom ' s reasons were vague, only that regardless of having children, Dad still wanted to live freely, and Mom wanted something more suburban. So Dad left, occasionally remembering to send a birthday card or letters, but he never came around.
I ' d always guessed there was more to it than that, but Mom never said what it was.
And I didn ' t ask. Some things were best left alone.
All those years though, I didn ' t remember Mom spending time with any man. No constant boyfriends, no going out and partying, nothing.
Mom just sort of delved deeper into her metaphysical ways--like an academic hippy. Even now, piles of books about herbs and green living everywhere.
When Jake died, I figured I could be just like Mom, and live alone, focusing on Emma, yet just spending some social time with Matthew made me wonder if I was kidding myself.
I liked having a guy to talk to.
Because my mom can mind read--or so she had us thinking while we grew up--she invaded my internal thoughts, as if answering them.
" There ' s a big difference between a father figure and a husband, Summer. "
" Is that why you didn ' t marry again? "
She shrugged. " No one was worthy. "
" What were you looking for, Mom? A prince? "
The tea pot started to whistle. " No one was worthy enough for you girls, " she said as she poured the boiling water.
" Oh. So you did date? " I watched Mom dunk her tea bag in the hot water, trying to let her words sink in. I ' d always figured Mom had just not wanted to date. She ' d evidently put a lot of effort in not dating in front of us.
" Of course I did. I just didn ' t do it in front of you girls. " She took a sip of her steaming tea. " Which is the only advice I can give you about men and your child--do not bring anyone in who will not be there for a very long time. "
I nodded, because I knew this. We ' d discussed this after Jake died--part of the reason I ' d not dated right away. Well, that and the whole grieving thing.
" I wouldn ' t. "
" I know you wouldn ' t intentionally. But remember, Emma ' s been through a lot. You should not let her get attached to someone, if he isn ' t going to be around for very long. " Her gaze darted to Emma and Matthew.
And guilt roiled in my gut, because that ' s exactly what I was doing--I was letting her get to know someone who likely wouldn ' t be in her life more than a few weeks.
But he was like her daddy.
The smell of her daddy.
Emma was already very attached to Matthew.
God, I was an idiot. Here I was, the first time I ' d talked to any guy, really, outside of work, and now my daughter was attached to him, almost instantly, because of a damn smell.
It seemed so important
But I knew where Mom was going, and it wasn ' t just simple adult interaction. " I don ' t think I ' m ready to date, Mom. "
" Then why ' s he here? "
I glanced back at them. They laughed over something with the trolls, though Emma was carrying it a bit too far, as little girls tended to do. At least, as mine tended to do, anyway.
I opened my mouth to say something, but Matthew shushed her, and surprisingly, Emma listened to him.
Imagine that.
" Summer, " my mother said.
I met her gaze. " I don ' t know why I let him come, Mom. Emma wanted it, and frankly, I wanted to make her happy. She misses her dad. "
" She does. But with all the love around her, I don ' t think she ' ll suffer without him. " She dug through the variety of tea bags stored in the cabinet to select whatever herbal brew that would heighten or tighten or straighten whatever chakra was out of alignment today.
The wash of scents hit me, and I couldn ' t help smiling. Mom and her herbs. Most people had flower gardens or vegetable gardens. Mom had her herb gardens. The house always smelled like herbs of some form or another--whatever ones Mom was drying in the back office that week.
" Maybe, maybe not, " I said, and in the back of my mind, remembered growing up without a dad.
My parents separated after Autumn was born. Mom ' s reasons were vague, only that regardless of having children, Dad still wanted to live freely, and Mom wanted something more suburban. So Dad left, occasionally remembering to send a birthday card or letters, but he never came around.
I ' d always guessed there was more to it than that, but Mom never said what it was.
And I didn ' t ask. Some things were best left alone.
All those years though, I didn ' t remember Mom spending time with any man. No constant boyfriends, no going out and partying, nothing.
Mom just sort of delved deeper into her metaphysical ways--like an academic hippy. Even now, piles of books about herbs and green living everywhere.
When Jake died, I figured I could be just like Mom, and live alone, focusing on Emma, yet just spending some social time with Matthew made me wonder if I was kidding myself.
I liked having a guy to talk to.
Because my mom can mind read--or so she had us thinking while we grew up--she invaded my internal thoughts, as if answering them.
" There ' s a big difference between a father figure and a husband, Summer. "
" Is that why you didn ' t marry again? "
She shrugged. " No one was worthy. "
" What were you looking for, Mom? A prince? "
The tea pot started to whistle. " No one was worthy enough for you girls, " she said as she poured the boiling water.
" Oh. So you did date? " I watched Mom dunk her tea bag in the hot water, trying to let her words sink in. I ' d always figured Mom had just not wanted to date. She ' d evidently put a lot of effort in not dating in front of us.
" Of course I did. I just didn ' t do it in front of you girls. " She took a sip of her steaming tea. " Which is the only advice I can give you about men and your child--do not bring anyone in who will not be there for a very long time. "
I nodded, because I knew this. We ' d discussed this after Jake died--part of the reason I ' d not dated right away. Well, that and the whole grieving thing.
" I wouldn ' t. "
" I know you wouldn ' t intentionally. But remember, Emma ' s been through a lot. You should not let her get attached to someone, if he isn ' t going to be around for very long. " Her gaze darted to Emma and Matthew.
And guilt roiled in my gut, because that ' s exactly what I was doing--I was letting her get to know someone who likely wouldn ' t be in her life more than a few weeks.
But he was like her daddy.
The smell of her daddy.
Emma was already very attached to Matthew.
God, I was an idiot. Here I was, the first time I ' d talked to any guy, really, outside of work, and now my daughter was attached to him, almost instantly, because of a damn smell.
It seemed so important
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