Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 90778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90778 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“Good. That is how your father and I brought you up to be. To be kind. Never change, Raven,” she says, her voice thick with pride.
I nod, the words sinking into me with a quiet comfort. “I try to be kind, but they’ve made it so easy. Nora and I talk, we laugh… It’s nice. I don’t feel lonely at all.”
Mom’s eyes crinkle with joy and her shoulders relax. She turns back to stir the pot of soup on the stove. “Good. You deserve to be surrounded by people who care about you.”
“I am,” I reply.
“And what about your husband?” she asks. “I really wonder if I’m ever going to get used to that. Have you gotten used to saying it?”
“Not at all,” I smile. “And he’s alright. We’re working things out slowly. No issues there.”
I can tell something in my voice or expression must have given the game away and she doesn’t really believe me, but thankfully she doesn’t press and instead shifts the focus of the conversation.
“Your clothes look new. Did he buy them for you?” she probes.
I glance down at the simple outfit I’d thrown on that morning—a blouse I bought a long time ago and never wore, and jeans. “No,” I say, brushing off invisible lint from my sleeve. “These are just some old things I dug out of my closet.”
Her eyes linger on me for a moment longer, as though trying to read between the lines of what I’m not saying. Then she picks up the knife again and continues.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she murmurs, almost to herself. “It was too strange and sad when you moved out so suddenly.”
Tears fill my eyes at her words. I rush up to her and hug her hard. I need the warmth and love more than she will ever know.
“It’s good to be back,” I whisper tearfully.
Soon lunch is ready. Mom wipes her hands on her apron and calls out to Dad. I follow her into the small dining room, where he’s already sitting at the table that has been set for three.
I help Mom bring all the food to the table, making sure everything looks perfect. The aroma of warm soup and freshly baked meatloaf fills the room. The weight on my chest feels lighter. We start eating and the conversation flows easily at first, focusing on little things—the neighbor’s dog, a new series Mom has started watching, and the state of Dad’s vegetable patch.
But as the meal progresses, the inevitable topic surfaces: Dad’s health.
“How are you feeling, Dad?” I ask gently, my gaze settling on him. “Any changes since last week?”
He shifts in his chair, his shoulders slumping slightly as he exhales. “About the same,” he says, his voice low. “Tired, mostly. And the cough’s been worse at night.”
Mom glances over at him, her lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s been hard,” she admits softly, her fingers tightening around her napkin. “I’m trying to get him to rest more, but … you know how stubborn he is.”
Dad gives a weak chuckle, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Resting doesn’t fix much,” he says. “But I’m good.”
I nod, biting back the urge to argue. “Well,” I say, folding my hands in front of me, “we don’t have to wait anymore. I’ve made arrangements, and we can start treatment as soon as Monday.”
Their heads snap toward me, and for a moment, neither of them speaks. Mom’s eyes fill with emotion as she places her hand over her mouth. Dad blinks, his expression a mixture of shock and disbelief. “This Monday?” he asks, his voice barely audible.
“Yes,” I say firmly. “Earl was very generous. He’s already given me the first instalment for Dad’s medical procedures and I’ve already contacted the hospital and made an appointment for next week. So everything is ready. The doctors can start the process immediately.”
Mom sets down her fork, her brow furrowed in the way it always does when she’s worried. “We’re so grateful, sweetheart,” she says softly. “But … it just feels so fast. Are you sure about all this? About asking Earl for the money?”
I smile, keeping my tone light, even teasing. “Mom, he’s my husband. It’s his job to help with things like this. Honestly, he didn’t even hesitate. He wanted to come along today to say hello, but he’s busy during work hours. But he’ll try to come next time.”
They exchange a glance—one of those quiet exchanges that speak volumes without words. Dad clears his throat, leaning back in his chair. He looks tired and pale, but there’s a flicker of hope in his eyes. “It’s not just the money, though,” he says, his voice rough. “We’re worried about you, kiddo. This whole situation … it wasn’t what you wanted, was it?”
“Dad,” I say firmly, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. “This is exactly what I always wanted. I’ve wanted Earl from the first moment I set eyes on him. No more discussions about my marriage. You’re going to start your treatment on Monday, and everything’s going to be okay. That’s all that matters for now.”