Page 19 of In Her Wake
“Good.Really good.”Margaret took another sip of tea.“Still going to meetings three times a week.It helps to hear other people’s stories, to know I’m not alone in this struggle.”She hesitated, a slight flush rising to her cheeks.“You remember, we talked about it at the time, that I developed some...feelings for Zeke last month.”
Jenna nodded, keeping her expression neutral.She remembered how Mom had briefly stopped going to AA on account of her feelings for her sponsor, Zeke Canfield.At the time, Jenna had feared that Margaret’s unwillingness to talk to him about it would have tragic consequences for her new-found sobriety.
“But we’ve ironed that out,” Margaret continued.“He said it happens sometimes in recovery.The vulnerability, the gratitude—it can get confused with romantic attraction.Zeke was very kind about it, very professional.We talked it through, and now we’re back to being friends.”She smiled ruefully.“Good friends.He’s been a godsend, Jenna.Not just with the drinking.”
“What do you mean?”Jenna asked, noting a shift in her mother’s demeanor.
Margaret’s eyes dropped to her hands, now folded on the table.“He’s helped me see things more clearly.About a lot of things.”She took a deep breath.“About Piper, for one.”
Jenna felt her muscles tense at the mention of her twin’s name.“What do you mean?”she asked.
"I've been holding on too tight," Margaret said softly."Clinging to the hope that she's out there somewhere, alive and well.That someday she'll just walk through that door."She gestured toward the kitchen entrance, her eyes briefly filling with tears before she blinked them away."But the truth is, it's been twenty years.And as Zeke helped me see, the most likely explanation is the simplest one."She took a deep breath, then continued quite firmly, "Piper is gone, Jenna.Truly gone."
A chill ran through Jenna despite the warm evening.“Mom—”
“No, please let me finish,” Margaret interrupted gently.“I needed to accept this.To stop living in a state of suspended grief.To acknowledge that holding onto this hope has been destroying me, bit by bit.”She reached for Jenna’s hand again.“And I’ve been worried that it’s destructive for you too.”
Jenna withdrew her hand, unable to meet her mother’s concerned gaze.
“You’re still looking for her, aren’t you?”Margaret asked, her voice gentle but insistent.“Still chasing every possible lead, no matter how unlikely?”
Jenna thought of the farm near Irvington, the scarecrow at the crossroads, Patricia Gaines’s words in her dream: Find the scarecrow at the crossroads.Evidence that would sound like madness to her mother’s newly rational ears.
"I just think," Margaret continued when Jenna didn't respond, "that it might be time for you to consider letting go, too.To accept what's most likely true and find a way to live with it.The way I'm trying to do."
The irony of it twisted in Jenna’s chest—her mother, finally sober and clear-eyed, choosing now to give up hope.Just when Jenna’s dreams had begun offering what felt like real clues that might finally lead to answers.
But how could she explain?She had never told her mother about the dead who visited her in dreams, never tried to explain what it meant that Piper had never come to Jenna in a lucid dream, which would only happen if Piper were dead.So Mom would have no idea what Jenna was talking about if she tried to describe the hints she’d been getting through her dreams of Piper’s possible whereabouts, which was why she stopped at a certain crossroads and visited that farm near Irvington earlier today.Her mother would think she’d lost her mind, that grief had finally broken her grip on reality.
"I know it's not easy," Margaret said, misinterpreting Jenna's silence as the simple resistance that she, herself, had long felt."I still have moments when I'm sure she's alive out there.But then I remind myself that wishes aren't reality.And hanging onto this—this obsession—it's kept us both from moving forward."
Jenna finally looked up, meeting her mother’s eyes.“And you’re moving forward now?”
“I’m trying,” Margaret replied with a small, sad smile.“One day at a time, as they say in AA.Some days are harder than others, but I’m trying.”
The silence between them stretched, filled with all the things Jenna couldn't say.Her mind pulled in opposite directions—toward the farm that had almost—but not quite—matched her dream vision, and toward her mother's new-found peace that she didn't want to shatter.The scarecrow at the crossroads seemed to beckon her forward while her mother's clear eyes pulled her back.What if Jenna was wrong?What if this search was just another form of the same denial that had nearly destroyed her mother?
But what if she was right, and stopped now?
“Jenna?”Her mother’s voice pulled her back to the present.Margaret was studying her face with the careful attention that had always made Jenna feel transparent as glass.“Have you found out something about Piper that you haven’t told me?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Jenna stared at her mother across the kitchen table.How could she possibly answer?Would the truth about her strange lucid dreams shatter this peace her mother had found, threaten her hard-won sobriety?And yet, wouldn’t a lie be another betrayal in a long history of half-truths Jenna had constructed?
“Jenna?”Her mother pressed again, leaning forward.“Have you found something about Piper that you’re keeping from me?”
In her mind, Jenna saw the scarecrow at the crossroads, the farm that didn’t quite match her dream vision.Those fragments of hope would sound like madness to anyone who didn’t understand what she could do.
“No, Mom,” she said carefully.“I haven’t found anything concrete.”
It wasn’t a lie, not exactly.Concrete evidence was precisely what she lacked.
“But you’re still looking.”
Jenna nodded, watching her mother’s face for signs of the old fragility.But Margaret’s eyes remained clear, steady.
“Maybe you’re right,” Jenna conceded, offering what felt like the kindest truth she could.“Maybe someday I’ll be able to accept that she’s gone.To move forward the way you’re doing.”
