Page 79 of Hold Still

“I hope not.”

With that, the attorney returns to his paperwork and pulls out another file. Guess it’s parole day.

Gathering my purse, I lift my chin and walk out of the room. With every step I take, the weight of today’s hearing lifts. By the time I’m at the car, I’ve nearly convinced myself Matt can’t get an early release. And I almost believe it.

Inhaling a deep breath, I enjoy the smell of freedom. Something Matt won’t be feeling for five more years, God willing. Putting my key into the ignition, the key to Ozzy’s house clicks against the various storetags hanging on the keyring.

Ozzy.

He’s much too good for me. What does he have in his background? An ex-wife? Ha! I’d take his baggage any day. I know he’s into me—but for how long? Not even he can lift the burden of my vow from me.

Even if all I want to do is run into his arms.

I don’t realize I’ve driven to the battered women’s shelter I volunteer at until I pull into the parking lot. Years ago, my therapist recommended I spend time with others who are healing. While I’m here to inspire others, I always get re-energized with each visit. With today’s hearing behind me, I throw my shoulders back and spend time with some of the most amazing women on the planet.

Hours later, I park in our driveway and make my way into the house. Even though I told Ozzy I would try to go to his concert tonight, I’m not feeling it. Walking into the house, I give Mom a kiss. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, McKenna. Hope your meeting went well.”

She doesn’t know where I went. The trauma of losing Daddy sped up the dementia, so I keep everything related to Matt well-hidden from her. And no need to share about my time at the battered women’s shelter, either. “It did.” At least the second part of the day. I rub my hands together. “Want some cookies?”

Her eyes light up. “Chocolate chip or Nutella?”

I force a laugh. “Your pick.”

“Hey, Elaine,” Mom calls out. “McKenna’s making cookies today. What kind do you want?”

Looks like Mom’s having a good day. Score one. At least today isn’t a total loss. From the laundry room, Elaine says, “Snickerdoodles!”

I can’t stop myself from embracing Mom. “How about I make all three?”

“You won’t hear me complain.”

After dropping a kiss on her cheek, I go to the pantry and pull out flour, Nutella, chocolate chips, sugar and cinnamon and lose myself in baking.

A few hours later, I pull the last batch—chocolate chip—out of the oven. Mom hands me a glass of milk. Using a spatula, I offer her a hot cookie of gooey goodness. We both inhale the delicious, chewy cookie.

“I swear, if you weren’t a graphic designer, I would beg you to become a pastry chef.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

Elaine strolls into the kitchen, purse slung over her shoulder. “Well, I’m out of here. See you tomorrow, Janice.”

“See you then,” Mom says, giving her another Snickerdoodle for the road.

Mom and I stay in the kitchen, laughing and talking while chowing down on the cookies. The old clock chimes seven.

“Shit! I didn’t realize the time.”

“Language.”

“Sorry, Mom. We didn’t have dinner. What would you like?”

Mom pats her flat stomach, something I envy every day. “I’m full up on cookies. We can skip dinner this once.” She leans in. “But don’t tell your father.”

My heart plummets. Spending time with her was so fun that I almost forgot about her condition, and about seeing Matt. I place my hand on top of hers. “Don’t worry. I won’t.” Standing, I survey the damage in the sink. “Why don’t you go watch TV while I clean up in here?”

“Boy, I really got the good end of this stick.” She smiles and leaves me alone. Even when I’m with her, sometimes, I’m alone. Trembling hands start the process of cleaning up the mess.

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