Page 51 of Savage Heart

“There you are!” she says. “I was hoping you’d come today.”

I swallow hard. I’m not sure I have the bandwidth to deal with her being nice to me. It’s so foreign and new, and it fills me with pointless hope. For what, I don’t know.

I step closer, careful, like she might vanish if I move too fast. “Hi, Mom.”

She reaches for my hand immediately, her fingers cold but strong. She squeezes, and I pat her hand between mine.

“You look tired,” she says, her voice soft. Concerned. “Are you taking care of yourself?”

My throat tightens. I nod because that’s all I can manage.

Otis clears his throat quietly. “Hello, Cherry.”

She beams at him. “Otis! I haven’t seen you in ages. Thank you for bringing my girl.”

He comes with me once a week, but he goes along with it, telling her it’s great to see her again.

I’m still hung up on the words my girl.

I sit beside her, still holding her hand.

She drifts in and out of the present, but not once is she mean.

“Linc is at camp,” I tell her. “But he’s doing really well. Having a great time.”

She looks at me blankly and then her eyes flicker. “Lincoln! Yes. But you were always hung up on the other one, weren’t you . . .” She points at Otis. “What was his name?”

Otis’s eyes meet mine, and neither of us say anything.

“Maverick!” she says, snapping her finger. “He is a looker, that one. Both of them are, but Maverick. Whew.” She fans her face.

She smooths my hair back from my face with tenderness, and my eyes fill with tears.

“Proud of you, honey,” she says, patting my hand.

This loving, attentive woman is not the one who raised me, and she could be totally different tomorrow, but I soak it up anyway.

We stay and chat for another half hour, until I can tell she’s getting tired.

“Don’t be a stranger,” she says lightly. “I always feel better when you’re around.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” I tell her and walk out on shaky legs.

Otis doesn’t speak right away. When we reach the car, he opens my door and leans his arms against the roof.

“That was . . . a good visit,” he says.

“It’s crazy seeing her like that, isn’t it?” I whisper.

Tears fall when I blink, and I brush them away.

He sighs softly. “Yeah. It really is.”

“I don’t know if it makes it better or worse,” I admit. “She’s finally the mom I needed . . . and she probably won’t remember anything tomorrow.”

He taps the roof twice, thoughtful. “Here’s the thing, honey girl,” he says. “The love might be showing up late, but it’s still love. Doesn’t erase the past—but maybe she can catch up just a little bit. If you’ll let her.”

I nod.