Page 57 of The Inn on Bluebell Lane
“You do?” Gwen had wondered what might be going on in her daughter’s life; she never liked to admit any weakness, and Gwen never felt she could press her. “Tell me about them. I want to know—”
“Do you really?” Sarah retorted. “Because I wouldn’t want to tire you out with my problems.”
“Oh, Sarah.” Gwen’s eyes filled with tears. “I do want to know. And I’m sorry for the way I sounded. I didn’t mean it like that, honestly—”
“And as you have Ellie to take you to chemo and do all the rest,” Sarah finished as she rose from the table, her body taut with wounded affront, “clearly I’m not needed or wanted here.” She dumped her teacup in the sink with a clatter, and turned toward the door.
“Sarah, please,” Gwen said again, truly distraught now. “I really didn’t mean to hurt you.” Her head was pounding, her stomach churning, and she longed to lie upstairs in her darkened bedroom for several hours. A big set-to with Sarah was the last thing she needed, and she couldn’t bear it if her daughter stormed out now, with things between them so damaged.
“You haven’t hurt me,” Sarah replied stiffly as she gathered her coat and bag. “I just didn’t realize how difficult I was making things for you. But don’t worry. I won’t trouble you any further, I promise.”
Gwen rose from the table, one hand outstretched. “Please, Sarah—”
“Bye, Mum,” Sarah said, her voice turning thick with tears, and before Gwen could say another word, her daughter was out the door, closing it behind her with a firm click that was halfway to a slam.
Gwen slumped back in her chair and dropped her head into her hands. All the fragile optimism she’d felt, chatting with Ellie, had drained right out of her. How could she have hurt Sarah so badly? Honesty was clearly overrated, especially with those you loved. She’d only made things worse—and what could she do now to make things better?
Really, she thought with a sigh, she couldn’t have possibly handled that conversation any worse. She never should have told Sarah she was hard work. What a hurtful thing to say. And yet she was hard work, and Gwen had been too tired to temper her honest words with the gentleness she knew was needed.
She heard Ellie return with Ava and Josh; with a murmured word, Ellie directed the children to the sitting room, no doubt worried Sarah was still raging in the kitchen. Gwen sighed at the thought. She would ring Sarah tonight, she decided, and try to explain, or perhaps simply apologize, again—not that her daughter would accept it. Yet she still had to try.
“Granny?”
Gwen looked up to see Josh standing in the doorway, smiling shyly. He was the quietest of Ellie and Matthew’s four children and, Gwen suspected, sometimes overlooked, happy as he was to do a puzzle or play Lego by himself. She’d been much the same as a child.
She summoned a smile for him, tired though she was. “Yes, darling?”
“Are you…” Josh hesitated, winding one skinny leg around the other like a stork. He looked uncertain and very young. “Are you okay?”
“Am I okay?” Gwen’s eyes filled with tears as she registered the question full of loving concern, and out of the mouth of an eight-year-old. “Oh, Josh… yes. Yes, I’m okay. I will be, at any rate.” She held out her arms, and after a second’s pause, Josh came forward, putting his arms around her before he slipped onto a chair at the table.
“We saw Aunt Sarah leaving. She looked cross.”
Gwen nodded. “She was cross, I’m afraid. I need to apologize to her.”
“Were you cross?”
“No. Just tired.” She smiled sadly at him. “I should have handled our conversation better, I’m afraid, and I didn’t.”
“That’s what Mom says when she shouts at us sometimes,” Josh said with an endearing little grin. “That she’s tired.”
“Yes. Mums are often tired, and they have good reason to be.” She gave him a sympathetic smile and his face suddenly brightened.
“Do you want to do a puzzle?”
“A puzzle?” Gwen looked at him, surprised. He’d never asked her to do anything with him before. “All right.”
Josh hopped off his stool and, a few moments later, he returned with a box.
“Three hundred pieces,” Gwen remarked as she took in the box with the picture of the solar system on the front, most of the pieces looking to be nothing but black sky. “This looks rather challenging.”
“The hard ones are best,” Josh replied as he opened the box, and Gwen smiled. Perhaps she needed to have a little more of that kind of can-do attitude.
Josh was clearly an experienced puzzle-completer, for he was soon sorting pieces into edges, corners, and interior, and instructing Gwen to do the same.
They worked in companionable silence for a few moments, sunlight slanting through the window, and slowly Gwen felt her insides unclench as a still sort of peace settled over the room. She’d explain to Sarah and apologize. It would be okay. She’d make sure of it, whatever it took.
“Now it’s easier to do the edges,” Josh explained, once they’d sorted all the pieces. “Look, see?” Neatly, he slotted two pieces together, and Gwen smiled.