Page 67 of From This Moment (After We Fall 4)
“Mom. Stop.”
“She’s the granddaughter of one of the ladies in my bridge group. I think she works for one of the big pharmaceutical companies, lots of traveling around to different doctors’ offices, that sort of thing. She even comes to Daddy’s office sometimes.”
“Enough. I’m sure she’s great, but I’m not interested.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not looking for anyone.”
“That’s ridiculous. Of course you are.”
I turned and stared at her. Was she insane?
“If you want a family, and I know that you do, then you need a wife,” she said, like it made all the sense in the world. “Maybe you’re not actively pursuing someone right now, but you don’t want to let the perfect wife slip away just because you’re not quite ready yet.”
“Do you even hear yourself?”
“What?” She lifted her shoulders in a who, me? shrug. “I’m just pointing out the obvious, darling. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you have to be aware of the future. You’re taking the steps one by one—coming home, taking over Daddy’s practice, buying a house. The next logical step is a wife and family.”
I frowned. “Leave it, please.”
“And you’re a doctor in a small town,” she went on, continuing to ignore me. “People look up to you. They have to be able to trust your judgment. You can’t run around with just any old Jane.”
“Jesus Christ. Will you stop?” I had a long fuse, but she was nearly at the end of it.
“I’m only trying to help, Wes.” She rubbed my arm. “I want to make sure you have the best of everything, darling. Choosing just the right person to share your life with is important. And sometimes people need help finding that person.”
“Well, I don’t. So thank you very much for your concern, but I have enough going on without adding a relationship to the mix.”
“What? What do you have going on?” she pressed, throwing her hands in the air. “As far as I can see, you only have work. You never see any friends, and the only grown-up you spend any time with at all besides your parents is Hannah. And I’m not certain that’s the best thing for you.”
I leveled her with a look. “What the hell do you mean by that?”
She flashed her palms at me. “Don’t get angry, darling. I only mean that Hannah is still getting over Drew’s death. She still wears her wedding ring, bless her heart. But she’s obviously very depressed and unhappy, and I don’t think she’s a very good influence on you. Both of you need some other friends. The only friends I know of that she has is a group of widows like herself.”
Stay calm. Remain seated. It won’t do Hannah any good to blow up at Mom. “Maybe she likes being around them because they understand what she’s going through.”
She shrank back. “But it’s so morbid, don’t you think? Why not cultivate a group of friends based on something healthy and happy, like gardening or cards? I invited her to my bridge club a few times, but she turned me down.” Her tone and expression told me she was still peeved about it. She lowered her voice and spoke conspiratorially. “I don’t think she knows how to play. Bridge is sort of an intellectual game.”
Was smoke coming from my ears? Felt like it. I gripped the arms of the chair I was in. “Enough about Hannah. She’s doing the best she can to recover from a sudden and unimaginable loss, to parent Abby all on her own, and I think she’s doing an amazing job. You’re being way too hard on her.”
“Perhaps,” she said with a sigh. “I don’t mean to be. I guess I’ve simply never understood her very well. She wasn’t at all who I thought Drew would choose. What did they even have in common?”
“They loved each other.”
“I suppose.” Another heavy sigh. “Your brother always was a fool for a pretty girl.” She patted my arm. “I’m sorry if I upset you, darling. I only want you to be happy. What else do I have?”
“It’s fine.” At this point, I just wanted the conversation to be over. “But no match-making, okay? I’ll find someone on my own when I’m ready.”
“Okay, darling. I better go get dinner started.” She went up to the house, but I stayed on the beach a while longer, staring at the lake and thinking about the promise I’d made to Hannah last night.
Don’t make promises, she’d begged. Life makes them impossible to keep.
It hurt me to think life had treated her so harshly that she couldn’t trust me, but I understood. Life threw some pretty bad shit at you sometimes. I’d seen plenty of it in Africa—famine, disease, war, poverty. It could wear you down, make you feel hopeless, make you feel like nothing you did mattered because we were all just pawns in a larger game being played by forces way beyond our control. It made you feel small and helpless and alone.
But you pushed forward. You kept going. Because there was beauty, too. The smile of a child you’d saved. The tearful gratitude of his parents. The people who worked beside you, sacrificing time and money and often their own health, for the greater good. And it made you appreciate things more.
The scent of cookies baking in the oven. The sound of the waves at night. The embrace of the woman you’d always loved.
