Today's Reading
"I should be making things easier for you, Mom. You have far more on your plate. Selling the house, moving to Salina with Hannah, new city, new job to find... Dad." One syllable, a giant, barbed tangle of hurt.
Her mom looked down at the table. The angle put emphasis on the dark circles under her eyes, evidence of the layer upon layer of loss, none of it her choosing. Regardless, she stroked Nikki's hand with her thumb, the self-sacrificial act of comfort from mother to child.
"Have you heard from your dad?" she asked.
Nikki's shoulders stiffened. "No. And I'm not sure I want to after seeing the latest post."
"What post?"
Nikki froze. Her mom had not seen it. Of course she hadn't. She hadn't been anywhere near social media. For as gutted as Nikki was, her mom might break in two.
She took a breath and prayed for mercy to engulf her mom before the news did. "Dad got married on Saturday."
Her mom's lips parted. The helpless look in her eyes was sheer torture. "Did he—" Her voice cracked. She swallowed and tried again. "Is it...her?"
The name was like a curse word. Never would Nikki say it. She nodded.
Her mom drew her hand away, tucked it into her lap.
If Nikki could, she would rewind to the day she was born and take back every word she had ever said that was less than respectful toward her mom. Take upon herself every insult her mom had ever endured, if only it meant her mom could feel relief. Why couldn't she?
Slowly, stiffly, her mom reached for her mug, her voice quiet and strained. "Better drink up before it gets too cold."
The ache behind Nikki's eyes pounded once more. As her mom took a long, slow drink, Nikki lifted her mug to her lips. The now-tepid coffee was Lydia Werner's signature preparation, a dark roast blend slightly sweetened by a douse of whole milk. Her dad never wanted any other kind of milk in the house. Whole was what he grew up with on the farm, and that was what he wanted to grow old with too.
They had done a lot of things as a family because of his preferences. They always watched whatever sport was in season on Sundays because that was his pastime. And they visited the Werner family farm in Eddner, Missouri, only on Christmas Day, driving three hours there in the morning and three hours back that night. Their lives had long been framed closely with his. In all the ways that cut the deepest, they still were.
Her mom set her mug on the table, cradled it in both hands, and stared at the light-brown liquid.
Nikki relegated her mug to the end of her place mat and cleared her throat. "Mom? You okay?"
"Fine, baby."
It wasn't fine. It was maddening. The boxes around them served as witnesses to her mom's growing shame.
"I can stay, help you."
Her mom shook her head. "I'm done for the day. Have to meet the Realtor soon."
"When is the closing?"
"Two weeks." Her mom's eyes traced around the kitchen and the living room beyond to spots now blank of photos and furniture but baked with history. "Two more weeks to pack up twenty-nine years."
Nikki dipped her head. The pain between them was so large it sucked up their air, commanded far more space than the memories themselves. "How are you getting through this, Mom?"
She tilted her head to the side, eyes moistening. "Your Grandma Werner had a saying she loved. She'd say, 'Do the next thing.' She picked it up from a radio show she listened to." Her mom stroked the handle of her mug and looked at Nikki. "That's what I'm doing. The next thing. It's the only thing I can do."
Nikki shook her head. "You shouldn't be reduced to this."
Tears dripped over her mom's lower lids. She looked away. So weary, so defeated.
Nikki clenched the edge of the place mat. "I bet if Grandma was still alive, she would have a few things to say about all this." It was conjecture. Grandma Ann had died when Nikki was only twelve, too soon for Nikki to have formed any memories of her besides Christmas Day in her farmhouse, which always smelled of baked ham and possessed a brand of peace that every other place dreamed of. "Do you ever wish Grandma Ann was still alive right now? That she was here to speak up?"
Her mom shook her head. "Grandma's thoughts wouldn't have made a difference, Nik."
This excerpt ends on page 20 of the paperback edition.
Monday we begin the book All My Secrets by Lynn Austin.
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