Raeanne Thayne Hope's Crossings Series Volume One: Blackberry Summer

“Ruth will be staying at the house the first few nights. She’s insisting.”

Unfortunately, she hadn’t divorced her mother. It was a little tougher to ignore Ruth’s opinions, much as she would like to.

While Claire just wanted to go home and crawl into bed for a few weeks, yank the covers over her head and forget the rest of the world existed, she had two children who still needed to eat and do their homework and feed the dog. Pity parties were for women without obligations.

She had to be realistic about her limitations. Jeff was correct. Just taking care of herself was going to be enough of a challenge.

Having her mother there for a few days would be a big help. For a short time anyway, she could endure her mother harping on everything from the smelly dog to Owen’s muddy tennis shoes in the hall to the bad haircut of the news anchor on her favorite channel.

Claire had already resolved that she would simply grit her teeth and think how grateful she was that she still had a mother who cared about her and who was willing to step in for a few—and only a few, please God—days.

“What about after she leaves?” Holly asked. “Would you like me to stay with you for a few days? I would be more than happy to.”

Claire offered a weak smile while her insides writhed at the idea. The only thing worse than Ruth in her space for a few days would be Holly, all big teeth and perfect hair and her desperate need for Claire to be her friend.

“That’s a lovely offer, Holly. Really. Thank you. But I’m sure by the first of next week, the kids and I will have figured things out together and I should be a little more self-sufficient. Anyway, you don’t need the stress of worrying about somebody else right now. You need to take care of yourself and the little one.”

“I have had contractions every day since the accident,” she confessed, looking so young and worried that Claire was compelled to offer what little comfort she could.

“I’m sure they’re simply Braxton-Hicks. Nothing to worry about,” she said.

“That’s what I’ve told her.” Jeff gave his young wife a fond, indulgent sort of look. “She thinks just because my specialty is orthopedics, I’ve forgotten my OB-GYN rotation. Not to mention the fact that I’ve been through this twice before.”

If Claire remembered correctly, she was the one who’d been through this twice before, but the whole situation was just too strange for her and she wasn’t in the mood to point that out.

Jeff turned onto Blackberry Lane just then and a moment later pulled into the driveway, sparing her from having to come up with an answer.

For a moment, Claire just wanted to sit here and gaze at the wonderful familiarity of her house, bricks a weathered red, that charming porch out front, the ironwork fence with the arrowed finials around the perimeter of the yard.

She loved this house and had for years, long before the day she and Jeff made an offer on it three years ago. It was hers alone now, hers and the children’s, but she had never been so happy to be there.

Making her way from car to house was a bit of an ordeal. Beyond the difficulties of the transfer from the backseat to the wheelchair she was stuck in for a few weeks at least, her front door had four steps, too many for the portable folding ramp Jeff had wangled from somewhere. Owen finally suggested they use the back door leading to the kitchen because it only had two steps and a slightly larger doorway for the wheelchair, and finally Macy pushed her inside and she was home.

Chester gave a happy bark of greeting—as happy as his barks could sound anyway—but then he freaked out at something, maybe her cast or the sight of the wheelchair, and headed for his safe zone under the kitchen table.

“It’s okay, buddy,” Owen cajoled. “Come on out. It’s just Mom.”

“He’ll get used to it,” Claire said, although she’d been dealing with the whole thing for five days and she still wasn’t used to it all.

“He’s not coming. What a dorky dog.” Macy shook her head. “Maybe you should try one of his treats.”

As much as she loved Chester, Claire was too achy and exhausted right now to care much about showing up on the dog’s popularity list, but because it seemed so important to the kids, she took the treat Macy handed her from the pantry and held it down at the dog’s eye level.

Chester hesitated for only a moment before he waddled to her side for the treat, then started sniffing the wheels of the chair and her outstretched toes sticking out of the cast.

“As we talked about at the hospital, you’re several weeks from being able to tackle the stairs in this house,” Jeff said rather pompously. “We’ve moved some of your things down to the guest bedroom.”

“I know.” That part she didn’t mind. The guest room was actually one of the nicer rooms of the house, with an en suite bathroom and wide windows overlooking the mountains. She had created such a comfortable little spot there that even after the divorce, Jeff’s parents still preferred staying with her whenever they came to visit from their house in Arizona, much to Holly’s chagrin.

“We like to be closer to the children,” JoAnn had tried to explain to Holly during their last visit, but Claire suspected even after their new grandchild was born, the Bradfords would prefer this place, with its sunny garden and basketball hoop in the driveway to the glass and cedar showplace Jeff and Holly had built up in Snowcrest Estates.

“I brought down all your pillows and your favorite quilt,” Macy said. “The Western Star that your Grandma Van Duran made when you were a little girl. Holly helped me put fresh sheets on the bed for you.”

“Thank you. Both of you.” Claire managed a smile.

“You need to rest now,” Holly said sternly. “Jeff and I will stay here with the children until the funeral is over and your mother can get away and come here.”

“Can I drive you in?” Owen asked.

She smiled at her eager-to-please eight-year-old. “Of course.”

With care and concentration, he maneuvered the chair through the doors, which were just wide enough for it to fit. She was definitely going to have to come up with another solution than this wheelchair or all the lovely historic woodwork of the door frames she had worked so hard to refinish would be dinged and scraped.

As soon as she reached the bed and started the complicated process of transferring from the chair, she realized with not inconsiderable dismay that she would have to change into a nightgown from the skirt and cotton shirt her mother had brought to the hospital for her trip home.

The enormity of the task, given the cast on her arm, completely overwhelmed her. “Can you send Macy back to help me change?” she asked Owen.

“Don’t be silly,” Holly exclaimed from the doorway, where she and Jeff had apparently followed them. “I’ll help you.”

She absolutely did not want her ex-husband’s young, adorably pregnant wife helping her, but she didn’t exactly have a lot of options here. “Thank you,” she murmured.

When Jeff made no move to leave, Claire raised her eyebrows. It was an awkward situation all the way around. Although they had been married for ten years and had once been as intimate as two people could be with each other, that was in the past and she wasn’t changing clothes in front of him.

Jeff finally clued in and cleared his throat. “Come on, Owen. Let’s go see what we can find for lunch. You hungry?”

They left, closing the door behind them, leaving her and Holly alone.

While Claire did her best with the buttons on her shirt, Holly immediately went to the mirror-topped antique dresser and pulled out one of Claire’s nightgowns she and Macy must have brought down.

“I have to admit, it’s weird for me to see you this way,” Holly said.

“What do you mean?”

Holly gestured to the wheelchair and the hospital bed Jeff must have arranged to replace the queen normally in the room. Claire didn’t think that was strictly necessary, although she supposed it would help with transfers from the bed to the wheelchair. “I don’t know. Needy, I guess. You’re the most together person I know. It’s just…different to see you otherwise.”

“It’s not so comfortable for me, either,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” Holly said quietly. “Really sorry. It must be hard for you.”

“Yes,” she admitted with reluctance.

“Well, don’t worry about it. I’m glad to help. Let’s get you more comfortable.”

Few moments in Claire’s life were as excruciatingly humiliating as being forced to sit, helpless and weak, as her ex-husband’s young and beautiful new wife helped her into the loose cotton nightgown.

Holly was actually very considerate and kind about the whole thing, to her relief, but by the time they finished Claire was exhausted and humiliated and could only think about another pain pill. Unfortunately, she wasn’t due to take a dose for a few hours yet. She was vigilant about keeping to the correct schedule, afraid of becoming dependent. She didn’t know if it was a genetic predisposition, but her mother’s dark history was entirely too vivid in her memory.

“There you are, Claire,” Holly said when she was finally settled into the bed, the soft quilt tucked to her chin. “Does that feel better?”