Total pages in book: 125
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119152 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 596(@200wpm)___ 477(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
“Mom—”
“Blink once if you’re in danger—”
“Mom! This is Makayla, my girlfriend.”
Heat blazes across my cheeks. I bite down on my lower lip to conceal my smile.
“Yeah, right. Any girl you’ve brought home has looked like you dragged her through the mud first. This one’s too pretty for you.”
A small giggle breaks from my lips. I step forward and stick out my hand. “Hi, Mrs. Wallace. I’m Makayla.”
She stands and wipes her dirty hands on her jeans. “Makayla,” she repeats, then looks over at Ben. “You used to know a Makayla. Always came home gripin’ about her. Man, did that one really get under my son’s skin. One would have thought he liked her.”
“Jesus,” Ben mumbles, and I can’t help but hiccup a laugh.
“Well, she sounds like a great girl.”
She shakes my hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m his mom, but you can call me Patricia. I was starting to wonder about this one.”
We both look over at Ben, who’s sporting a handsome scowl. “Oh, he’s doing just fine. I’m making sure to keep him in line.”
His mother’s brow raises. “If that’s the case, welcome to the family. He hasn’t been able to be tamed since his daddy. . . since his daddy died.” Her playful smile vanishes as quickly as it appeared. “Well, I’ve got a lot of work to do here, so if you’ll excuse me.”
“Mom—”
“These flowers aren’t gonna plant themselves—”
“Mom! We came over to—”
“I’d like to help. If you don’t mind.” Both turn to gape at me. “I used to plant flowers with my mom before she died. She taught me a few things.” Ben eyes me warily. “Why don’t you go find some old photo albums for me to look at? Ones of you with braces and pimples. We’ll be fine out here.”
His mom chuckles beside me. I nod, letting him know it’s okay. He’s hesitant but gives in. “Hard no on the photo albums, but I’ll see what I can do about some lemonade.” I smile up at him. Leaning in, he places a delicate kiss on the tip of my nose and turns to his mom. “No stories of when I was a kid, got it? She doesn't need any more ammo.”
His mom shrugs in a way that says fat chance, and I know I’m about to fill up my Ben Wallace blackmail bank. Ben walks back into the house, and I turn around, suddenly nervous. “So, where do we start?”
She kneels back in the spot where we found her. “You and your mom used to do this?”
“Yeah,” I say, taking the potted plant she hands me. “She always said it was good to understand all life. That beauty came from all things.”
“Smart mother.”
I gaze at her and smile. “Yeah, she was. She loved flowers. Loved the colors, the smell. She even loved the dirt.” I take the flower and place it in the hole she dug.
“Planting is a sign of optimism, joy, and long life.”
Her smile is kind. It reminds me of all the smiles and joy my mother radiated. She was so beautiful, always with a fresh flower behind her ear. “She sure did bring joy. But I can’t say much for the long life. She died when I was five.”
“How’d she die?”
“Car accident. My dad ran out of beer and woke her up to get him more from the store. A teenager was driving down the wrong side of the street, coming home from a party, and hit her head-on. He walked away with barely a scratch. She died instantly.” She should have never been on the road that night. But he forced her. He killed her.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Thanks. It was a long time ago.”
She reaches out and squeezes my arm. “Time doesn’t make a difference. I’m sorry you lost her.”
The single tear that falls down my cheek catches me off guard. It’s been almost a lifetime since she died. Years since the last time I cried. Before today, I can’t remember the last time I thought about her. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying. I haven’t thought about her in such a long time.”
She’s quiet as she covers the plant with soil. I worry I overstepped, showing my emotions in front of a stranger. Maybe I should let her be—
“It will be thirteen years tomorrow since his father passed. It feels like yesterday. I was in the garden when I got the call. His best friend of almost forty years broke the news to me. I didn’t believe him. There was no way my Henry would leave me.” She pulls another plant from the bin and hands it to me. I squeeze the container while she digs another hole. “He went in to save a little boy. Did you know that?”
I nod. “I did.”
“He had such a soft spot for kids. When Ben was a baby and Henry wasn’t working, he did most of the work. Would stay up all night with him. Stare at him. Worried if he blinked, he would stop breathing. If there was one thing he loved more than his job, it was Ben.” I hand her the plant and wipe away another fallen tear. “Ben gets mad when I come out here and plant. But it gives me hope. False hope, but it’s what gets me by. I just feel like if I had a redo, I could call him and tell him to come home. Not to go to work. If I could replay that day, maybe I could change the outcome.”