The Road to Rose Bend, Naima Simone [jenna bush book club .TXT] 📗

I don’t know why you’ve resented me all these years? I let your daughter die,” she cried, voice cracking.

She wrapped her arms around her belly, cradling the bump as if she held her baby in her arms. Her daughter wasn’t even born yet, but just the thought of her dying... She shook her head. It’s why she couldn’t hate her parents...couldn’t hate Cole. Now she understood. With her baby sleeping inside her, now she understood.

“Sydney,” her father barked, disbelief coating her name. “What the hell are you talking about?”

She blinked. Luke Collins never cursed.

“Come on, Dad, you can say it,” she said, just...weary. Of the things left unsaid. Of the secrets. Of the denials. “You and Mom blame me for Carlin’s death. I could’ve saved her if I had gone through with the partial kidney donation. It might’ve bought her more time. Might’ve given the doctors a chance to find another way to help her. To keep her alive. But I didn’t. And you’ve never forgiven me for it. Which is okay. Because I’ve never forgiven myself.”

“Sydney.” One moment, she stood there, arms wrapped around herself, and in the next, her father’s arms encircled her. Holding her close, his big, gentle hand cupping the back of her head, pressing her to his chest. She inhaled his familiar crisp, woodsy scent, and cuddled closer. “Sydney,” he said again, voice thick, hoarse. “No, honey. No. We have never, never blamed you.” He leaned back and waited for her to lift her gaze to his. “I need you to understand and accept that. At no time have we ever been mad at you, resented you. You are wholly blameless. It’s cancer that’s responsible. It took Carlin away from us. Not you.”

“And sweetie, Carlin was tired.” Her mother rose from the couch, approaching them. She smoothed a hand over Sydney’s curls, a small, sad smile curving her lips. “She was so tired that when the kidney donation didn’t happen, I think she was relieved. Her body had been through so much by the time she was thirteen, she just wanted to let go. To be at peace. She wasn’t mad at you, Sydney, and neither were we.” Patricia sighed. “But looking back, I can see how you would believe this. Especially with me. I think...”

She paused, swallowed hard, and reached for her husband. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, brushing a kiss across her hair. “When I came out of the worst of the grieving, I distanced myself from you. Carlin’s death left me with a horrible fear of losing another child. When you would disappear for hours or return home late after curfew, I went into a panic, afraid of what could happen to you. So, I unconsciously erected this shield between us. Maybe a part of me believed that if we weren’t close, if I kept you at arm’s length, then I wouldn’t fall apart if something happened. I wanted to hold on to you so hard, Sydney. Not let you out the door. Not let you leave my sight. But in my fear, I pushed you away. And I’m so sorry. I have so much to make up for with you.” She cupped Sydney’s cheek, the hand shaking. “Please let me try and make it up to you.”

“Mom.” Unable to say more past the relief, amazement and joy that constricted her throat, Sydney hugged her mother. Tight. And didn’t want to let go. For the first time since she was a girl, she felt free to hug her mother without any expectation of rejection. She felt loved, accepted. She belonged. “I love you,” she whispered. “I love you so much. And I’ve missed you.”

“Me, too, sweetie.” Her mother squeezed her close as if she didn’t want to let go. And that was fine with Sydney. “Welcome home, Sydney.”

A soggy laugh escaped her, and in seconds, laughter from the three of them echoed in the room. It was cathartic, healing. A fresh start. And in spite of the breakdown of her marriage with Cole, peace stole into her, spreading, leaving her warm and just a little less broken.

“I want—” Heart pounding, she nodded, encouraging herself to continue. To take that last step. “Tomorrow, I want to visit Carlin’s grave. I didn’t go with you before because...because I was so angry with her for dying and leaving me. For taking your love for me with her to the grave. But,” she shook her head, “I blamed her for something that she didn’t have any control over. Something that wasn’t true. So the first time I go to see her, I’d like it to be with you.” She inhaled, smiling at her parents. “Let her know we’re all okay and we’re starting over as a family. Will you...will you go with me?”

Her father, one arm still around her mother and the other around Sydney, pulled them both close until they formed a solid, unbreakable unit.

“I think we would both love that.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

COLE OPENED THE door to Kinsale Inn, and familiar scents greeted him. Lemon from the furniture polish his mother used. The sugar and chocolate of the cookies his mother baked and set out in the common area for her guests. The aromatic blend of coffee his mother always had on the ready.

They were the scents of home. Of family.

He inhaled, breathing deep—as deep as the smothering weight on his chest allowed.

Clenching his jaw, he strode forward, past the living area, dining room, staircase and the front desk where guests checked in. Too bad he couldn’t outrun himself. Because he’d been trying for the past four days, and it hadn’t happened yet.

“Hey, Moe,” he said, walking into the kitchen.

His mother whirled around the counter where she sliced fresh vegetables with a muffled shriek. “Cole,” she gasped, spreading a hand over her chest. “You can’t just sneak up on me like that. I’m getting too old to risk a heart attack,” she scolded.

He chuckled, hands up in surrender. “Sorry ’bout that. But could