Condemn Me Not (19 page)

Just
accept me, accept my decisions
.

Tears
pierced Simone’s eyes.  Mariah’s slender body looked fragile beneath the thin hoodie,
her shoulders narrow points at the top, her skinny jeans sticks beneath her.  Had
she refused her child the one thing she herself demanded above all else?  Had she
withheld the most important words her daughter needed to hear?  “Mariah, I’m
sorry,” she said suddenly.

Mariah
picked up the bulky backpack and dumped it to the floor near her desk.  She
turned.  Framed within flat-ironed locks of sandy blonde, her eyes hardened to
stones of jade.  “A little late, don’t you think?”

Yes,
but Simone couldn’t go backward.  She could only move forward.  She stepped
into the room and with a deep inhalation, expelled in a flush of breath, “If
this is what you feel you need to do, then do it.”

Mariah
homed in on her.  She rubbed her arms as though to ward off a chill, suspicion
filling her gaze.  “What’s with the sudden change?”

“Because
sometimes circumstance demands it,” Simone said bluntly.  “But I mean it.”  She
took another step, venturing deeper into the room, the teen décor permeating
her senses.  “If this business deal is what you really want, then following
through with it is the only way you’ll ever know.  You’ll never know what
you’re made of if you don’t try.”

Mariah’s
face went slack.

Tears
blistered behind Simone’s resolve.  She could barely believe the statement
herself, but she had said it and she meant it.  Losing her daughter over this
business was not worth it.  Mariah was young, she still had time.  Mitchell was
right.  Not everyone had to work on
her
time clock.  Not everyone had to
go to college to be successful.  With each rising thought, the decision became
easier, though fear pounded hard within her chest.  If this business venture succeeded,
then more power to Mariah.  While it might not be the path Simone would take,
if it’s what her daughter wanted, than she wanted it for her, too.

Much
like Simone had always wanted for herself.  She had always wanted her parents
to be proud, but she wanted them to support her in what she wanted for herself.

“Are
you saying you’re okay with me not going to college?”

“No. 
I still think you should go to college.”  Simone eased down onto the bed, her
mind crazy with concern, yet the brunt of her burden lifted as she gave in.  The
decision was made.  Simone was walking down this path
with
her daughter,
albeit not the path of her choice, but the path of unity.  “What I’m saying”—she
centered on Mariah, seeing her again for the first time—“is that if you truly
believe this is the right path for you, that this is the right decision, then
you need to pursue it.”

Mariah
angled her face in wary reluctance.  “What about Logan?”

“I’m
not going to lie to you.”  Simone held her gaze and held on tight.  “I’m not thrilled
about his involvement.  But if you believe in him, then no one should stand in
your way.  This is about your success or failure, not mine, not your father’s.” 
It was the hardest thing she had ever had to say to her daughter, but now that
it was out, tension swept from Simone’s body like a passing thunderstorm, promising
rays of sunny relief in its wake.

“Are
you serious?”  Sweet, trusting, the familiar look of affection tiptoed into Mariah’s
eyes as Simone drew near.

Simone
nodded.  “I’m serious.”  She reached out for Mariah’s hand, grateful she met no
resistance. 
And I’m sorry that you have to ask that question
.  She had
always prided herself on being blunt and direct.  She never wanted to be
misunderstood in her intentions or desires, not at work and not at home. 
Beating around the bush, playing games—she had no use for any of it. 
Say
what you mean and mean what you say
, that was her motto.  “The only
condition I must stipulate is that you do not move in with Logan.”

Caution
returned to Mariah’s expression and Simone held her breath, holding her
daughter’s hands firmly within her own.  Simone knew she had no power to
enforce the ultimatum, only that it must happen.  Somehow, some way, she must
convince Mariah not to move in with Logan.  “It’s not what your father or I
want for you.”  Emotional ties were much harder to untangle than professional
ones.

Mariah
tugged free from her mother’s grasp.  She locked arms over her chest. 
Animosity returned to her tone.  “Then where will I live?”

Simone
dropped her gaze to the released grip of their hands.  Mariah’s withdrawal felt
like a spit of rejection.  But it was a fair question.  Simone had told Mariah
to move out.  Now she needed to reopen the door.  Raising her head, she replied
in no uncertain terms, “You can live here.”

Mariah
stepped away.  “I can?”

Simone
nodded.  “You can.”  And in those two words, her future shifted.

# # #

“Mom,
do you have a minute?” Rebecca quietly entered Claire’s bathroom, hovering by the
doorway.

Wedding
ring in hand, water running in the sink, Claire replied, “Of course,
sweetheart.  What is it?”

Rebecca
nibbled at her lower lip and browsed the contents scattered across the vanity. 
A bottle of dish soap sat open and next to it, an old toothbrush lay on its
side.  An open washcloth lay beside them.  “I wanted to talk about school. 
About Paris.”

Claire
turned the faucet off.  She set the ring on the cultured marble counter and concentrated
on her daughter.  Staring at the girl, she couldn’t help but see in her all the
hopes and dreams she herself held over the last twenty years.  She knew Paris
was about Rebecca, not about herself.  Claire understood her baby was becoming
an adult and that it was time for her to make her own decisions.  But in truth
it still hurt.  Knowing she would rarely see her remained a vise-grip to her
heart.  “What’s up?” she asked cheerfully.

Rebecca
visibly struggled with her reply.  The teeth pull to her lip became
pronounced—to the point that Claire thought it must be painful.

“Everything
okay?” Claire asked.

Rebecca
shook her head, sorrow pouring into her expression.  A sea of tears swamped her
lids.  Claire’s heart wrenched at the sight.  “I think I should stay home.”

“Stay
home?”  Claire was confused.  “What are you talking about?”

“I
don’t think I should go to college in Paris.  I think I should go to Rhode
Island instead.”

In
a gush of realization, Claire’s heart ripped open.  “Oh
honey
...”

Swollen
and red, Rebecca’s lower lip quivered.  “You need me here and—”

“No.” 
Claire went to her daughter.  “No, no, no,” she said, wrapping both arms around
the child.  “You can’t do that.  You
have
to go to Paris.  You’ve
already been accepted.”

“But
you need me.”

Oh,
she did, she
did
—there was no denying it.  Looking ahead to all the
tests, the medication, Claire wished she could have Rebecca close.  And under
different circumstances, she would.  Nestled in the warmth of the embrace, she
would keep Rebecca near like a downy soft blanket, a living breathing reminder
that all was right in the world.  When snuggled up with her kids, Claire didn’t
worry or wonder or want.  She was at peace.  Complete and total peace.

But
keeping Rebecca from Paris wouldn’t be fair.  This illness wasn’t her
daughter’s battle.  It was hers.  Claire pulled away and looked at Rebecca directly. 
“I do need you.  And I’ll always have you,” she whispered fiercely, “in the
center of my heart, my soul.”

“But
you said it yourself.”  Rebecca’s voice trembled, her gaze wavered.  “Paris is
too far.  We won’t be able to see each other very often and—”

She
couldn’t finish the sentence.  Rebecca couldn’t voice the sentiment that Claire
knew she must be feeling.  But Claire couldn’t let guilt throw her child off
course.  “A mother always wants better for her daughter than she had,” Claire
said.  “It’s the way life works.  I had my opportunity, my chance for dreams. 
It’s your turn now.”

“Mom.” 
Rebecca became stern.  “Your life is nothing to be ashamed of.”

It
made Claire sad that her daughter sensed her regret, felt the need to defend
her mother and her choices.  It compounded the gnawing sense of failure eating away
at her as of late.  Claire had never become what she could have been.  She
never realized a career in design, never owned an art gallery.  All good
intentions aside, having her daughter recognize that truth did nothing to
assuage her longing.  Instead, it provoked, inciting old desires, empowering them
to wind their way to the surface.

But
Rebecca was right—she had nothing to be ashamed of.  Her life was good.  While
it wasn’t the life Claire dreamed of at eighteen, it was the life that
fulfilled her at forty-two.  Her error occurred when she missed the fact she
had been planning
her
future around her daughter’s.  Gazing at her
oldest child, her only girl, Claire pulled her into another hug.  “C’mere,
you.”

Slender
arms slid around her waist and Claire surrendered to their strength, their
powerful reminder that she was happy and the future was bright—leukemia or no
leukemia.  Rebecca was chasing her dreams.  Her child was healthy and happy and
a mother couldn’t ask for more. 

Taking
her hand, Claire led Rebecca over to her bed and sat, patting the section of
quilt-covered bedspread beside her.  “Sit.”

Rebecca
sat.  And waited.

Claire’s
gaze drifted back to the bathroom, the abandoned chore of washing her wedding
ring, as she thought about the significance it held.  A menial task to be sure,
but one she performed religiously.  Once a week, she squirted a drop of dish
soap over the ring, ran a brush in and around the diamonds, over and inside the
gold band.  Claire never bothered with fancy cleaners, not when plain old dish
soap and hot water worked just as well.

But
performing the task was a need.  It was important that her ring sparkle and shine
the same way it had the first day Jim slipped it on her finger.  Modest in
size, it was a single line of diamonds to either side of the solitaire
engagement ring.  Jim had infused the bands together to create her wedding ring
and she had been mesmerized from the moment she saw it.  In one piece of
jewelry lay a symbol of promise, a lifetime of love.  Allowing it to grow filmy
with dirt felt like a betrayal to their wedding vows.  Anything that detracted
from its grandeur and beauty felt like a mar against their love.

Claire
looked to her daughter and wondered if she understood what this one piece of
jewelry meant to her mother.  Could Rebecca possibly understand how much pride
she took in caring for it?  Caring for her family?

When
she quit work, she’d had to give up a lot of “wants” and focus on “needs.”  Gone
were the designer purses and expensive clothes, the dinners at five-star restaurants.
 Scaling down to one income tightened a budget quicker than a cinch to one of
Rob’s saddles but she had met the challenge head on. 
Coupon
became the
word of the day. 
Save
became the motto of the month.  But it had been a
sacrifice Claire was willing to make.  Kids over career had been an easy choice
for her, one she never regretted.

Until
now, that is.

Claire
brushed strands of brunette hair from Rebecca’s face and knew there was no way
she would have willingly missed a day of her children’s lives.  She couldn’t fathom
not being there when they came home from school, when they struck out in
baseball or bruised a knee on the basketball court.  She couldn’t imagine not
listening to them go on and on about their day during the fifteen-minute car
ride home, the new words they casually tossed out into conversation as a result
of their lessons.  No, she couldn’t imagine missing a single moment.

Tilting
Rebecca’s chin toward her, she smiled.  It was her job to groom her children into
becoming kind and considerate and well-adjusted adults.  It was her job to see
they grew up happy and healthy.  Gazing into Rebecca’s innocent brown eyes, Claire
realized she had done her job.  Her child felt loved.  She had demonstrated
love in her actions today.

Rebecca
was confident and obviously independent.  Claire stroked her hair, moving the
silky lengths over her shoulder, smoothing them down in place.  Did Rebecca and
the boys understand how important they were to her?  That for all the things
she did and didn’t do, could have done or should have done, Claire could never
have done better than the life she chose?

Being
mother to them was the single most important job of her life.  It was the one
responsibility she wouldn’t relinquish, the feat she was most proud, grateful,
and fulfilled by.  Claire brushed the tears from her daughter’s eyes.  And now,
for Rebecca, her job was done.  “Do you know how much I love you?”

Rebecca
nodded, a glimmer of a smile appearing on her lips.  “Remember when you made me
ride in my booster seat until I was eleven?”

Claire
stopped.  She nodded at the mention, though it was completely unexpected.