Mending Fences

Not that she knew anything about marriage. Once upon a time, she’d longed for a husband, house and kids. But that was before she’d had a taste of domestic life. After a brief engagement fraught with tension due to her fiancé’s young daughter, Laura had had enough. Or rather, her fiancé did by breaking it off nine months ago.

Laura scanned her list of cell phone messages. Too many to follow up on tonight. She rolled her shoulders to stretch out the knot of tension that had become a permanent fixture in the middle of her back. There was only one person she could count on. Herself.

“Laura? Anthony from corporate is on line three,” Cindy said.

The knot pulled tighter. Speaking of her ex-fiancé… “I’ll take it at my desk.”

Stepping into her gunmetal-gray cubicle, Laura slipped off her headset and picked up her phone. “Hey, Anthony.”

“I knew you’d be working late.” His voice was soft, but carried a hint of regret. Or maybe it was condemnation.

“I heard you’ve got a big deal going with a plastics company. Keep it up, you’re getting noticed.”

“Thanks.” Laura traced the buttons of her phone with her fingertip.

“I called because…well, I’m getting married.”

Laura closed her eyes. He’d set a speed record, even for a rebound relationship.

“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?”

“Congratulations.” Her well wishes sounded dull. Lifeless.

“She’s Brooke’s teacher. You’d like her.”

Brooke was Anthony’s obnoxious seven-year-old. Laura couldn’t please the girl no matter what she did or didn’t do. Obviously, the kid had bonded with her teacher. So had Anthony.

She spotted her direct line blinking and jumped at the chance to end the sensation of her heart bleeding all over her desk. “I’m happy for you, Anthony, really I am, but I’ve got another call.”

She heard him sigh. How many times had he accused her of putting work first? When he’d made her choose between work and him, work always won. Work didn’t hurt her. “Take care, okay?”

“You, too.” She connected with the other line. “Laura Toivo.”

“Laura, you have to come home, your mother’s had a stroke.” Her aunt’s frantic voice rang through the phone.

“How bad?”

“We don’t know yet, honey. She’s in ICU. She needs you. We both do.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Laura stared through the glass partition at Cindy.

Laura had to make that meeting. Her mom was hospitalized, surely a few hours wouldn’t change anything. But what if a few hours was all the time her mother had left? She’d regret it the rest of her life if she didn’t see her mom one more time.

What if—

Panic coiled in her gut, making Laura sick.

Cindy poked her head into Laura’s cubicle. “Everything okay?”

“Call Mr. Albertson and postpone my dinner plans. I’ve got to go to Michigan. It’s my mom—I’ve got to go home.”

It was late when Laura pushed open the door to her mom’s hospital room. Stepping closer, she stared at the frail-looking woman lying in a bed surrounded by monitoring machines. The stroke had aged her mother, making her look older than her seventy-four years.

If Laura were a good daughter, she would have visited more often. But she wasn’t a good daughter. She was an only child who’d never figured out how to please her mom.

Her mother’s eyelids fluttered. “Is that you, Laura?”

“How are you feeling?” Her whisper came out sounding choked.

“My left side is nummmm.” Her words slurred. She opened only one eye, the other lid drooping.

“I know.” It wasn’t easy seeing half her mother’s face immobile.

“Have you eaten anything? I can get you something,” Laura asked. Did they feed stroke patients?

“Too much trouble.” Her mom’s thick slur held a trace of stubborn martyrdom.

Laura knew if she went out of her way to bring food, it would sit untouched and uneaten. With a sigh, she peered out the window at the shiny black water of the Portage River. It’d be crammed with boats lapping up the last days of summer come daylight.

“Are you home to stay?”

Laura fiddled with the buckle to her purse. Pressure. Whether she closed a deal, tried to make a relationship work or please her mom, the pressure built and simmered, never finding release. “People depend on me. It’s not easy to get away.”

“You’re too thin.”

“I can’t cook like you do.” Laura pulled a chair closer to the bed. How long did they keep a person with a stroke? She’d left a message for her sales manager that she needed family leave.

“Your hair looks lighter.”

“I just had it done.” Laura threaded her fingers through her highlighted blond bob. Looking like she hadn’t worked hard this summer was a sure sign of success, wasn’t it?

After hours of sitting beside her mother, watching her sleep, the door opened. Her mother’s only sibling and younger sister, Nelda, entered with a fresh-cut bouquet of flowers in her perfectly manicured hands.

“Good, you’re finally here.” Aunt Nelda gave Laura one of her pointed glares—as if driving through the night from Wisconsin was not enough. Married to a man who’d once been an actor off Broadway, her aunt dressed like she was headed to Hollywood instead of the local Wal-Mart.

“How’s Anna?” Aunt Nelda kissed her sister’s forehead.

“A little weak,” Laura’s mom whispered, her slur worse.

Aunt Nelda pinned Laura with another stern look. “You’re lucky your mother and I were shopping in Houghton when she had her stroke. There’s no telling what might have happened had she been home alone.”

Like she needed more guilt. Laura rubbed her aching head. “I need coffee. Do either of you want anything?”

“I’ll meet you in the cafeteria in a few minutes.”

Aunt Nelda wanted to talk, but it was a conversation Laura didn’t look forward to.

Twenty minutes later, Aunt Nelda sat down across from Laura. “Sweetie, you look beat up.”