wanted to go, his thoughts unconnected. He felt as if the remaining strength he’d had to go on had been stripped away, leaving him naked and drained.
His life, as he knew it, was over, and he had no idea what to do. As much as he wanted to deny the things that Melissa had said, he couldn’t. At the same time, he didn’t believe them, either. At least, not completely. Or did he?
Thinking along these lines exhausted him. In his life he’d tried to see things as concrete and clear, not ambiguous and steeped in hidden meanings. He didn’t search for hidden motivations, either in himself or in others, because he had never really believed that they mattered.
His father’s death had been something concrete, something horrible, but real nonetheless. He couldn’t understand why his father had died, and for a time he’d talked to God about the things he was going through, wanting to make sense of it. In time, though, he gave up. Talking about it, understanding it . . . even if the answers eventually came, would make no difference. Those things wouldn’t bring his father back.
But now, in this difficult time, Melissa’s words were making him question the meaning of everything he had once thought so clear and simple.
Had his father’s death really influenced everything in his life? Were Melissa and Denise right in their assessment of him?
No, he decided. They weren’t right. Neither one of them knew what happened the night his father had died. No one, besides his mother, knew the truth.
Taylor, driving automatically, paid little attention to where he was going. Turning now and then, slowing at intersections, stopping when he had to, he obeyed the laws but didn’t remember doing so. His mind clicked forward and backward with the shifting transmission of his truck. Melissa’s final words haunted him.
You already know. . . .
Know what? he wanted to ask. I don’t know anything right now. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just want to help the kids, like when I was a child. I know what they need. I can help them. I can help you, too, Melissa. I’ve got it all worked out. . . .
Are you trying to rescue me, too?
No, I’m not. I just want to help.
It’s the same thing.
Is it?
Taylor refused to chase the thought down to its final conclusion. Instead, really seeing the road for the first time, he realized where he was. He stopped the truck and began the short trek to his final destination.
Judy was waiting for him at his father’s grave.
“What are you doing here, Mom?” he asked.
Judy didn’t turn at the sound of his voice. Instead, kneeling down, she tended the weeds around the stone as Taylor did whenever he came.
“Melissa called me and told me you’d come,” she said quietly, hearing his footsteps close behind her. From her voice he could tell she’d been crying. “She said I should be here.”
Taylor squatted beside her. “What’s wrong, Mom?”
Her face was flushed. She swiped at her cheek, leaving a torn blade of grass on her face.
“I’m sorry,” she began. “I wasn’t a good mother. . . .”
Her voice seemed to die in her throat then, leaving Taylor too surprised to respond. With a gentle finger he removed the blade of grass from her cheek, and she finally turned to face him.
“You were a great mother,” he said firmly.
“No,” she whispered, “I wasn’t. If I were, you wouldn’t come here as much as you do.”
“Mom, what are you talking about?”
“You know,” she answered, drawing a deep breath before going on. “When you hit bad patches in your life, you don’t turn to me, you don’t turn to friends. You come here. No matter what the question or the problem, you always come to the decision that you’re better off alone, just like you are now.”
She stared at him almost as if seeing a stranger.
“Can’t you see why that hurts me? I can’t help but think how sad it must be for you to live your life without people-people who could offer you support or simply lend an ear when you need it. And it’s all because of me.”
“No-”
She didn’t let him finish, refusing to listen to his protests. Looking toward the horizon, she seemed lost in the past.
“When your father died, I was so caught up in my own sadness that I ignored how hard it was for you. I tried to be everything for you, but because of that, I didn’t have time for myself. I didn’t teach you how wonderful it is to love someone and have them love you back.”
“Sure you did,” he said.
She fixed him with a look of inexpressible sorrow. “Then why are you alone?”
“You don’t have to worry about me, okay?” he muttered, almost to himself.
“Of course I do,” she said weakly. “I’m your mother.”
Judy moved from her knees to a sitting position on the ground. Taylor did the same and reached out his hand. She took it willingly and they sat in silence, a light wind moving the trees around them.
“Your father and I had a wonderful relationship,” she finally whispered.
“I know-”
“No, let me finish, okay? I may not have been the mother that you needed back then, but I’m going to try now.” She squeezed his hand. “Your father made me happy, Taylor. He was the best person that I ever knew. I remember the first time he ever spoke to me. I was on my way home from school and I’d stopped to get an ice- cream cone. He came in the store right behind me. I knew who he was, of course-Edenton was even smaller than it is now. I was in the third grade, and after getting my ice-cream cone, I bumped into someone and dropped it. That was my last nickel, and I got so upset that your father bought me a new one. I think I fell in love with him right there. Well . . . as time went on, I never did get him out of my system. We dated in high school, and after that we got married, and never once did I ever regret it.”
She stopped there, and Taylor let go of her hand before slipping his arm around her.
“I know you loved Dad,” he said with difficulty.
“That wasn’t my point. My point is that even now, I don’t regret it.”
He looked at her, uncomprehending. Judy met his gaze, her eyes suddenly fierce.
“Even if I knew what would eventually happen to your father, I would have married him. Even if I’d known that we’d only be together for eleven years, I wouldn’t have traded those eleven years for anything. Can you understand that? Yes, it would have been wonderful to have grown old together, but that doesn’t mean I regret the time we spent together. Loving someone and having them love you back is the most precious thing in the world. It’s what made it possible for me to go on, but you don’t seem to realize that. Even when love is right there in front of you, you choose to turn away from it. You’re alone because you want to be.”
Taylor rubbed his fingers together, his mind growing numb again.
“I know,” Judy went on with fatigue in her voice, “that you feel responsible for your father’s death. All my life I’ve tried to help you understand that you shouldn’t, that it was a horrible accident. You were just a child. You didn’t know what was going to happen any more than I did, but no matter how many ways I tried to say it, you still believed you were at fault. And because of that, you’ve shut yourself off from the world. I don’t know why . . . maybe you don’t think you deserve to be happy, maybe you’re afraid that if you finally allow yourself to love someone, you’d be admitting that you weren’t responsible . . . maybe you’re afraid of leaving your own family behind. I don’t know what it is, but all those things are wrong. I can’t think of another way to tell you.”
Taylor didn’t respond, and Judy sighed when she realized he wasn’t going to.
“This summer, when I saw you with Kyle, do you know what I thought? I thought about how much you looked like your father. He was always good with kids, just like you. I remember how you used to tag along behind him, everywhere he went. Just the way you used to look at him always made me smile. It was an expression of awe and hero worship. I’d forgotten about that until I saw Kyle when you were with him. He looked at you in exactly the same way. I’ll bet you miss him.”
Taylor nodded reluctantly.
