Page 17 of Hometown Girl

Beth spun around, but her sister was already gone.

Ben stood. “I’ll get her.”

“Be kind to her,” their mother said as he left.

Beth met her mom’s eyes—eyes that challenged her. Eyes filled with an emotion Beth couldn’t quite place. Disappointment?

“She is so dramatic.” Beth shook her head and sat back down. From her mother’s pursed lips and raised eyebrows across the way, Beth could tell she had words. “Fine. What are you thinking?”

Her mom’s thin lips drew into a knowing smile. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Please. Your face says it all.”

Her gaze fell to her mom’s lap, where two small, feeble hands Beth hardly recognized rested. Everything about her mother seemed frail, in spite of Dr.Berry’s claims of recovery.

“Molly is too impulsive,” Lilian said.

Beth scoffed. “That’s an understatement.”

“But you are too pragmatic.”

Beth shifted. “Really? I didn’t know there was such a thing.”

“I worry about you, Beth.” Her mom inched forward, each movement slow.

“Of all of your children, I’m the one you need to worry about least.” Beth stood, waiting as her mom struggled to get to the edge of her seat. “Where are we going here?”

“Up. Out. Away from the chair.” She grabbed Beth’s arms and did her best to lift herself up, but she needed help—more help than she should if she was going to live on her own again.

“Do you want to walk around the block?” It was their usual evening stroll. Her mom hadn’t done it unassisted since the stroke, and she still got winded before they circled back to their driveway.

“Sure. Let’s do that.” She took Beth’s arm.

Another reason to do what was smart—their mother needed stability right now. Beth couldn’t dive into Fairwind Farm any more than she could dive into a job search in Chicago.

Still, so much time had already passed. Did she really want to waste another year in Willow Grove?

I was made for more than this.

The words nagged at her, unwanted. She dismissed them, wishing for a fleeting moment that the little things could keep her content. Wishing, she realized, for just a smidge of Molly’s optimism.

Outside, the evening had turned brisk, as spring in Illinois often could. The sun had started its descent, and a chill was in the air. Still, it felt good to inhale spring after too many months of winter.

Lilian wove her arm through Beth’s and clung to her with both hands as they shuffled down the driveway and away from the house. Beth had been taught to move quickly—to walk quickly, work quickly—but she’d grown accustomed to moving at her mother’s pace.

“Are you going to tell me what you’re thinking?” Beth asked, not sure she wanted to know.

“What makes you think I’m thinking something?”

“You’re always thinking something.” Beth glanced at her mom, who kept her gaze on the tree-lined road in front of them.

“Yes, but telling you what I think doesn’t usually result in the outcome I’m hoping for. You’re too much of an independent thinker. You like to have your own ideas. As soon as someone tells you what they think you should do, you do the opposite just on principle. Your father was the same way.”

Beth didn’t deny it. She didn’t like being told what to do. Still, for some reason, she wanted her mother’s opinion.

“You don’t think this is the stupidest thing she’s ever done?”

“Darling daughter, you forget the time your sisterwalkedthrough the automatic car wash.”

---