As Daisy waited for the teakettle to heat, she fed Marjoram and Pepper. They were both finished before she’d assembled the tray to take to the bedroom. “I think you two better stay out here,” she told them. “Or go upstairs with Jazzi.”
Marjoram turned golden eyes on her and gave a little murrp.
“I’m not sure what this is all about, but it’s better if you don’t distract us. Jazzi will be glad to see you. She’ll probably give you her pen to play with.”
Marjoram turned away as if that idea could be appealing and headed for the staircase.
“You can always take a mouse along,” she told Pepper. The feline washed one paw and then the other as if hurry wasn’t in her vocabulary. Then she stared at the closed door to the bedroom.
“I know you don’t like closed doors,” Daisy acknowledged. “But I’d appreciate if you don’t meow and scratch at it. Take your favorite toy and go upstairs with your sister.”
Daisy motioned toward the steps.
Pepper tossed Daisy a slant-eyed look, then with her tail high in the air, ambled toward the steps.
Daisy picked up the tray and went to join her mother.
To Daisy’s surprise, her mother looked nervous. She couldn’t remember any time when her mother had looked nervous. Her mom’s eyes held an expression she’d never seen there before, and they looked moister than usual. Those weren’t tears, were they?
Daisy set the tea tray on her desk and pulled out the desk chair. Her mom was perched on the bedside chair.
Daisy offered her mom the cup of tea, but her mother shook her head. “In a minute, okay? I want to talk first.”
Rose pushed her hair back over her forehead and clenched her hands in her lap. “I want to talk about us—about you and me.”
“Mom, if this is about the night of the reception, I told you I’m sorry. I never should have said what I did.” Daisy’s voice caught on the last word because the whole situation had upset her too. Sure, she’d always wanted to tell her mom those things, but not in that way, and certainly not then.
“You had every right to say what you did.”
Daisy was going to open her mouth to say she was sorry again when she realized what her mother had said. She felt stunned, and she kept quiet because she didn’t know what would come out of her mom’s mouth next.
Fidgeting with the belt on her slacks, Rose continued. “It’s my fault you felt closer to your aunt Iris and your dad. It’s all my fault. I wasn’t a good mother to you.”
Daisy called on heaven to help because she’d never wanted her mom to feel like this. “You’re wrong! Of course you were a good mother. You took wonderful care of me. When I was sick, you were right by my bedside. When I went to my first cooking class, you came to the dinner and tasted the food. When I married Ryan, you helped arrange everything.”
“Yes, I did those things,” her mother said sadly. “By then I had lost an important connection with you, and I was trying to make up for it. I guess I always felt guilty.”
She remembered what her aunt had told her about her mother’s postpartum depression. She stayed quiet.
“Your aunt Iris told me she confided in you about my postpartum depression.”
“Yes, she did. I wish you had confided in me. Did you think I would judge you?”
“You should have. After I came home from the hospital, I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I didn’t want to get out of bed. I didn’t want to take care of you. I just let your dad handle everything. Your aunt Iris stepped in to make sure neither you nor Camellia would be lacking for anything. After a month or so, I could still relate to Camellia, but I thought something was missing between the two of us. I didn’t know what to do about it. You had just had your first smile, and I didn’t feel any of the things I felt when Camellia had smiled.”
That comment was a stab into Daisy’s heart.
Her mother apparently could see that because she rushed to say, “I’m saying this all wrong. I’m making everything worse, and that’s not what I want. I want you to understand that like Violet, something was going on inside me that I couldn’t fix, that I didn’t know how to fix. And by the time I felt more like myself, you were already walking and I realized that somehow I had lost my first year with you.”
For her own well-being, Daisy had to take a step back and look at this more objectively. “Did you ever talk to anyone about this, besides Aunt Iris and Dad?”
“No. I was so ashamed. I didn’t even really talk with them. They just saw what was happening. There were no mommy groups like Vi is attending. There weren’t even parenting classes anywhere. No, it wasn’t the dark ages. Maybe if I had brought it up with my doctor, he could have done something. But he was a man. I didn’t think he’d understand. Your dad had trouble understanding.”
“So much more is known about postpartum depression now,” Daisy said.
“I’ve seen that with Violet. I’ve seen what the right kind of support can do.”
“But you had the right kind of support, Mom. You had Dad and Aunt Iris, and I’m fine. Yes, I always felt you favored Camellia, but on the other hand, I thought Dad and Aunt Iris made up for that. I was never neglected. I was loved.”
There were tears in her mother’s eyes as she said, “I often wondered if you married Ryan and moved to Florida to get away from me.”
Daisy’s aunt Iris had come to the same conclusion. “Mom, no. I loved Ryan. Maybe I did want a different kind of
