Page 1 of Shelter for Shay
PROLOGUE
SHAY – LAKE GEORGE, NEW YORK
Six months ago – Blue Moon Restaurant
Shay Whitaker pushed aside her plate. The scent of garlic and wine lingered in the air. The Blue Moon restaurant had a decent local crowd for a Wednesday night in the offseason. The lights were low, the music was soft, and Shay was trying not to hover.
Her mother sat across from her, small and pale in a cobalt sweater that made her eyes look brighter, even if the light had been knocked out of them. Margaret Whitaker had insisted on this dinner—real food, at a real table, like normal people—despite Shay’s protest that they could just order in.
Now Shay was glad they’d come. Her mom had rallied even though, with each passing day, her health had taken its toll, and today’s doctor's visit had delivered the devastating news they both knew was coming. They’d sat in that office after the doctor had left, holding each other’s hands, staring at each other, sayingabsolutely nothing. What could they say? There was only one thing left to do and that was to accept fate.
But neither woman was really ready to do that.
“You look really pretty, Mom,” she said, reaching for her glass of wine. “I’ve always loved that sweater on you.”
“You’ve always hated this sweater, dear.” Her mother laughed, coughed, and then wheezed. “When I bought it, you told me it made me look old.”
“I don’t ever remember saying that.” Only she remembered it like it was yesterday. It had been the day before she’d left for Spain about six years ago, and the article of clothing had reminded her of her grandmother. It even smelled like her, too—a combination of moth balls, old age, and nursing home rot.
Thinking about it now made Shay want to sink into her chair and burst into tears.
“You must be thinking about some other sweater because you look youthful.”
Margaret smiled, the corners of her mouth twitching like she wasn’t quite buying it but appreciated the sentiment anyway. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m a decent liar,” Shay countered. “You’re just too good at reading me.”
“Comes with the territory. Twenty-something years of teenage angst counseling gave me X-ray emotional vision.”
Shay chuckled. “I’ve never been able to lie to you and that’s always sucked.”
“You’re my best work.” Her mom reached across the table and took her hand. “My best accomplishment in life. You have to know how proud I am of you.”
Shay’s eyes stung, but she sucked in a breath and forced the tears back. She’d keep her tears for her pillow. Now was not the time to break down. Her mother wasn’t dead yet. The doctor said she had a few more good months left, and they should both makethe most of that time. Shay had every intention of doing just that. She knew she couldn’t make up for the years she’d spent gallivanting around the globe, but she could spend the rest of her mom’s days at her side. It was as much for herself as it was for her mother.
“I know that,” Shay said softly. “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about staying in the States permanently this time.”
“Oh really?” Her mom’s brows shot up, as if she didn’t believe her.
“I’ve kept up my credentials with my school psychology degree, just like you asked me to.” Shay nodded. “Besides, you’re right. I can’t spend my entire life jumping from one tour guide job to another in all the foreign countries. Eventually, I’ve got to settle.”
“Don’t do it just because you think it’s what I want.” Her mother patted her hand and leaned back. All of a sudden, her mom looked so frail, so dwarfed, sitting in the chair. Her coloring was all wrong. She’d lost weight. Her breathing sometimes became labored. It didn’t matter that she was still as sharp as a tack. Her body was failing, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop that. Not this time.
“I’ve been considering it for the last few months. I just hadn’t voiced it to you because I know how you get.” Shay rolled her eyes for good measure. The thing was, Shay wasn’t lying about this one thing. She had been weighing her options. While she loved traveling and suspected she’d always want to take trips, being a school counselor would give her summers off, allowing that freedom. “You’d be lining up job opportunities… and worse… you’d be setting me up with every available single man in this town.”
“I’m not that bad.”
“Yes… you… are…” Shay laughed.
“Well, I do know a few eligible bachelors.” Her mom waved her hand. “There’s this young man that I used to know who sometimes writes to me. I could find out what he’s doing.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Why are you so opposed to finding a young man to share your life with?” her mother asked with big, sad, puppy eyes.
“I want that… someday. Just not right now. I’m too young. I’ve got so much living to do before I get strapped with a husband, a couple of kids, and the dreaded mortgage.”
Her mom winced, glancing down at her plate. She picked up her fork and pushed some food around.
