One
Though the late August sun warmed Carol Denman’s shoulders as she strolled down a well-kept sidewalk, a chill settled in her gut. She’d taken her time hooking up her RV in a nearby campground before walking the short distance to the townhome her mom and aunt had bought after moving to Florida. The closer she got to the picture-perfect retirement community, the more disconsolate she felt.
Visiting her mother was never high on her list of things to do. The two of them butted heads incessantly. No issue was too insignificant. They could, and usually did, fight over anything. However, Carol’s outlook on life had changed recently, and she’d made this trip to the suburbs of Orlando hoping they could find common ground. If she was ever going to have a relationship with the woman who had brought her into the world, Carol was going to have to make the effort. Judith never would.
As Carol approached the porch to a smoky-blue townhome, her aunt yanked the door open and gasped as if she wasn’t expecting company, even though Carol had texted when she’d left the RV park. Ellen spread her arms wide, causing her teal and pink kaftan to flow like a kite flying above the beach. Carol had bought the dress for her aunt in Honolulu. Carol and her husband Tobias had vacationed in Hawaii a few summers before his death. Though they hadn’t set foot on a beach due to Carol’s aversion to water, they’d had an amazing time hiking the volcanoes and rain forest in between visiting museums.
Feeling happiness for the first time since arriving in Florida, Carol stepped into one of her favorite hugs ever. Aunt Ellen had always made Carol feel as if there was a special connection between them. Her aunt had been a ray of sunshine Carol would have spent her life basking in if Ellen hadn’t lived so far away.
“How’s my girl?” Ellen asked, squeezing her niece.
“I’m tired from packing up the house, but I’ll survive. How are you?” Carol leaned back and her heart grew heavy.
The last time she’d seen her aunt and mom was at Tobias’s funeral almost a year ago. The energy that had always radiated from Ellen seemed dimmer now. Age was taking a toll on her, as it was Carol’s mother, reaffirming how necessary this trip was.
Ellen pressed her fingertips under Carol’s chin as she looked her over. “You look like hell.”
“Thanks.”
“Are you sleeping?”
“As much as I can.” Carol stepped into the cool air of the open living area. The chill she’d felt earlier rolled through her again, but not because of the change in temperature. Being in the same house as her mother set her on edge. Knowing she’d come to confront a lifetime of emotional neglect made her blood run cold.
A painting on the wall caught Carol’s eye, and a smile lit her face. The bright colors created an abstract image of mountains made of checkerboards and a waterfall filling a teapot. The last time she’d been in this house, her mother’s bland taste had dominated. She was glad to see her aunt making room for her more eccentric style. “That’s a great piece. When did you paint it?”
Ellen moved between Carol and the art. “Don’t change the subject.”
“What subject?”
“You. You’re the subject. I was surprised when Judith said you were coming to visit, but now I have to wonder if there’s more to it than you passing through. Are you okay?”
Carol nodded to reassure her aunt. “I’ve spent the last few weeks getting ready to live on the road. Like I said, I’m a little tired, but I’ll catch up on sleep.”
The way Ellen pursed her lips and cocked one brow suggested she hadn’t believed Carol’s excuse. Ellen always could see through her. “There’s more.”
There was more. Carol hadn’t slept for days knowing she was on her way to visit her mom. She hoped to find a way to mend their relationship, though she wasn’t foolish enough to think doing so would be easy. She was dreading the days ahead. “Where’s Mom?”
“It’s Sunday. Where do you think she is?”
Every Sunday for as long as Carol could remember, Judith made enough chicken and dumpling soup for Carol’s father to eat leftovers for the week. That habit had remained, even though her dad had been gone almost four years. Carol followed the familiar scents to the kitchen, where she found her mom standing over a big silver pot, staring intently. Unlike the living area, Ellen’s spunk hadn’t migrated to the kitchen.
This was her mother’s domain, and the neutral colors and clean, bare counters proved as much. Ellen tended to leave a mess in her wake, whereas Judith cleaned while she went. Despite making a homemade meal, Judith had left not even a trace of flour on the counter. The room was pristine. Sterile.
She hated to admit she’d kept her home closer to Judith’s style than Ellen’s. Carol had inherited her mother’s need for cleanliness and order. She’d always hated that about herself but had never been able to change. Maybe now that her living quarters were barely bigger than a van, she could finally learn to live with signs of disorder. She doubted that, though.
“Hey, Mom,” Carol said with a forced smile and more excitement than she felt.
Judith lifted her face and smiled, too, but the corners of her mouth wavered as a crease formed between her brows. Even though her mom was in her midseventies now, Carol could easily picture how she looked years ago with their piercing blue eyes, full lips, and narrow nose. Her age hadn’t softened her heart or her sharp appearance. She still wore her long hair pulled back in a bun, though the strands were white now instead of the light brown she’d shared with her daughter.
“You’re not sick, are you?” Judith asked.
And that was the extent of the warm welcome, which really was about as much as Carol was expecting. “No.”
“You shouldn’t be here if you’re sick.”
“I’m not sick. I’m tired. I’ve been on the road.” She stepped closer, but the way Judith reared back caused Carol to stop. Her obvious aversion to embracing her daughter stung.
“Wash, please,” Judith said.
Carol let the request sink in for a few seconds before turning toward the restroom. This wasn’t anything new. Judith had never been warm and affectionate. Ever. In fact, if she had smiled and opened her arms like Ellen, Carol would have been the one pulling away with hesitation.
As she washed, Carol pictured the one thing she was counting on to keep her grounded over the next few weeks.
Tobias had filled their backyard in Houston with a variety of flowers. He would spend hours trimming and pruning and talking to the plants as she sat at the little wrought-iron table reading and sipping wine. If Carol cleared her mind enough, she could take herself back there. As a warm breeze brushed her cheeks, she could hear his deep, soothing voice and smell the sweetness of Salvia dorisiana, one of the varieties of fruit-scented sage he’d loved so much.
Those were some of the happiest moments Carol could recall, and she clung to them like the lifeline they’d become. She was going to need that lifeline to get her through forcing her apathetic mother to face their broken relationship.
“What the hell am I doing?” she muttered, grabbing the pristine white hand towel embellished with her mom’s signature needlework. Carol took her time wiping the water from her hands and face before staring at her reflection.