“Fran. I need you to tell me and Mommy promises you won’t get in trouble, okay? Do you believe me?”

I nodded my head. I did believe Mommy.

“So tell me who did this, baby?” she asked, and I noticed her lips were doing this funny quivery thing.

I leaned in as close as I could to Mommy and whispered, “Daddy did.”

Mommy pulled me into a hug on her lap and rocked me like when I was a little baby, telling me that everything would be okay now, that she would make sure of it. I cried with Mommy on the floor for a long time and then she got in the bath with me and we cried together some more.

Later that night, while Daddy was still snoring, Mommy and I snuck out in our pajamas and left him. It didn’t matter where we were going because I was with my Mommy now and together we had a whole heart.

When I finally open my eyes, my next words come out in barely a whisper. “That was the day you saved me, Mom.” Silent tears wade down my cheeks as I recall it once again. “I remember. You carried me out to the car in my froggy pajamas when it was pitch black and the moon was the only thing I could see, then you kissed my forehead and said, ‘we’re together, you and me baby, and we’re going to be okay.’”

Her tears are falling, trying to catch up with mine. “I wish I’d saved you sooner, Fran. I’m your mother and I should’ve known. I should’ve protected you. That’s why I was put on this earth, and I failed you.”

I’m so glad we’re finally talking about this, because throughout the years whenever I’d try to bring it up, she would avoid the subject altogether, the pain and guilt too much for her to bear. Maybe a small part of me blamed her, too. But I can’t let this go on any longer, let it rule her life any more than it already has. She’s lost so much.

I get up off my chair and crouch down in front of her, taking both her hands in mine. “Mom,” I say quietly, “you didn’t know. Dad made sure of that. And you were scared, I get that. I understand now and I don’t blame you. I forgive you.” I cup her wet cheeks, gazing into her eyes with intent. “I forgive you…and now I want you to forgive yourself.”

“Oh, Fran,” she sobs, gathering me up in her remorseful arms, squeezing me tight. “I love you, sweet girl, I love you so much.”

She holds onto me until the waitress comes over with our lobster plates and that’s when she pulls back. “Look at the two of us, we’re blubbering messes.” She drags a finger under my eye to no doubt wipe away my runny mascara. “We better get it together if we have any hopes of tackling these lobsters.” She laughs, and I laugh with her…and it feels good, like everything’s going to be okay. Just like she told me it would be.

* * *

After hacking our lobsters apart and devouring every last bit of meat on our plates, I pay the bill and we head out arm in arm into the sunshine. That’s when a brilliant idea strikes me.

“Mom, let’s go get pampered. Manicure, pedicure, maybe a new haircut, whaddya say?”

“Sure, honey. That sounds great, but don’t you have to get back?” she asks, angling her face up to absorb the warmth of the sun.

“No. There’s no rush.” Even though I’m anxious to get back and see Matt, this time with Mom is so important. “I want to check out some of those shops I saw on the way here.”

She stops short and I stumble backwards. “Francis Marie Heller, is there something you want to tell me?” she asks, as we come upon the Aston Martin and I suddenly feel like I’ve been caught sneaking a lollipop from the kitchen cabinet. “Whose car is this?”

“Matt’s,” I respond with a smile. “He let me borrow it for the day. Hop in, I’ll show you how this baby corners like it’s on rails!” And with that, and an abundance of laughter, we climb in, buckle up, and head down the highway.

Twenty minutes later, we pull up at this chic little salon and spa called Tumble, and slide off the plush leather upholstery and back out into the sunshine. My phone vibrates indicating a text and I grab it from the zippered pocket of my purse, smiling when I see it’s from Matt.


Hope you’re enjoying yourself. Any idea when you’ll be back?


I shake my head. He must be worried about his car. I’m just about to type back when another text comes in.


I miss you, sunshine.


My heart does a strange little dance and my pulse quickens, those three words taking me by surprise and throwing me for a loop because I don’t know how to respond. I only know how I feel. I miss him, too.

My fingers hover over the keypad and I type and re-type the words four times, feeling Mom’s eyes on me, knowing she’ll be looking for an explanation when I’m done. Another minute goes by and suddenly I realize that I don’t want to waste another second so I type back:


I kind of miss you, too.


I let out a deep breath as if that’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, and then I wait.

My heart continues to pound as I stare down at the screen, wondering what he’s thinking and willing him to answer, when he finally does.


Kind of…Good to know.


I bite my lip to keep from smiling too wide and toss the phone back in my purse, my footsteps feeling lighter now.

“Hmph. From the look on your face, my maternal radar says that maybe that was…Matt?”

“You’ve still got it,” I joke, before skipping my way into the spa with Mom keeping pace at my side.

The salon has a trendy sophistication with its hardwood floors and exposed beams, combined with a Zen-like feel brought to life by decor in earthy taupes and greens, bamboo, and a variety of plants. It elicits a feeling of instant calm and is the perfect place for Mom and me to spend the rest of our afternoon.

She grabs my arm and pulls me aside, out of the way of two customers leaving the shop. “Honey, this is too fancy. I think we should go somewhere else.”

“Mom.” I tilt my head to the side and meet her eyes. “This is perfect and it’s my treat. I want you to relax and enjoy. Okay?”

She huffs out a frustrated breath, knowing she won’t win because I’ve cornered the market on stubbornness. “Fine,” she retorts with a smile and a roll of her eyes. “I know better than to argue with my daughter.”

“Exactly.”

A buxom blonde with perfectly coiffed hair, lips painted red, and legs that go on for miles leads the way to the stations where we’re getting pedicures and hot stone massages. I’ve been so busy with my new job that I hardly have time to pamper myself so I’m glad for the opportunity and especially happy to be here with Mom. I hope our conversation earlier helped her in some way, maybe made her spirit a bit lighter, her burden a little less heavy to carry.

We chat and laugh for what seems like hours, drifting away into the sphere of relaxation as our legs are massaged, hot stones pressed firmly to our skin, blissful smiles covering our faces.

“So when are Brad and Gabby getting married? They’ve been engaged for a while now,” she asks over the sound of bubbles whirling at our feet.

“Honestly,” I tell her, “I have no idea. I think it’ll be sometime before the end of this year. She doesn’t seem in a huge hurry although Brad would marry her tomorrow. She’s so happy, though, and if anyone deserves it, she does.”

“You do, too,” she says, surveying my face and landing on my eyes. “Something’s holding you back though, and I want to know what it is.”

I wish I knew the answer to that question. Maybe it’s my overactive brain that’s holding me back. It’s never been a problem before, or at least it wasn’t until two years ago when I lost Kyle, but now it feels like a stone wall that I can’t knock down but am desperately trying to chip away at, piece by piece.

“I can’t make sense of anything right now.”

“What’s there to make sense of, sweetie?” she asks casually, as if nothing has to make sense.

“Well, I…with Matt for example,” I say openly, because let’s just cut to the chase. I relax my arms on the sides of the leather chair as my feet soak in the whirlpool. “We’ve barely known each other a week but I feel like I’ve known him for years, and, I don’t know what’s happening. I mean, there really can’t be anything happening because as I said before, I’m leaving. But, yet…he makes me feel things that I shouldn’t feel so soon. It’s impossible.”

“Sweetie, listen. You know, I knew your dad for three years before things got serious and well, he seemed like a safe bet for me.” And the irony in her words is not lost on me. She laughs yet it holds nothing but bitterness and regret. “You know what I think? I think you need to stop listing all the reasons why you shouldn’t eat the peas, and if you want the peas, just eat the damn peas. Time doesn’t dictate feelings, Fran. Time speeds up when you feel…. Everything’s magnified when you feel. The sky suddenly shines brighter, that piece of chocolate you ate just got a bit sweeter, that song you listened to takes on a deeper meaning.” She pats my knee, closes her eyes and sinks back against the leather seat, leaving me to think about how much I want those damn peas right now.

It’s amazing to me how wise my mom is and how much I need her in my life. She’s been through so much, and yet here she is, giving me advice that she probably wishes someone had given her all those years ago. The years before she met Dad.

When our legs are smooth and our toes are a bright pink, we head over to get her hair done. I told Claude, her assigned stylist who is wooing her with his French accent, to give her the works: haircut, color, and blow dry. Looking at her dated hairstyle, I can’t even imagine when she last made time for herself, and it warms me knowing I get a chance to do this for her today.

By the time we’re finished, Mom’s old-fashioned locks have been transformed into silky, ebony, shoulder-length strands of glossy perfection. Claude threw in some auburn highlights and gave her a cut with blunt angles to accentuate her cheekbones and some fringe to make her green eyes pop.

“So what do you think?”

She glances at herself in the mirror, shaking her head from side to side, watching her hair bounce, a satisfied smile lifting her lips. “I like it. Yes, I like it a lot.” She turns to face me. “Thank you, sweetie. I think I needed this without even realizing it.”

It’s amazing what you can need without realizing you need it.

Once I’ve paid and left generous tips for the staff, Mom and I make our way back outside. I notice she has a renewed spring in her step and a beaming smile on her face, making this all worthwhile.

We stroll down State Street, taking in everything from the luxury boutique shopping to the larger stores like Nordstrom, to the adorable mom-and-pop specialty shops. There are restaurants galore and I can’t imagine not being able to find something you like with all the culinary options to suit every palette.

A window display of ceramic knick-knacks calls to her. “Let’s stop in here, Fran. I’d like to pick something up for Vivian as a thank you.”

“Sure,” I say, smiling, as I remember all the funny novelty items we had in our house growing up. Even then I thought they were a bit strange.

While Mom is chatting it up with the cashier, I mill around the store for nothing in particular when something catches my eye. It’s a keychain with a ceramic clown. He’s got large clown shoes, a big red nose, and an even bigger smile on his face. Sold.

“What’s in the bag?” she asks as she holds the door open for me.

“Just a little something for Matt I thought he’d like,” I reply with a grin, as I picture his face when he opens it. “It’s kind of a joke.”

“Good girl.” She nods her head approvingly, flipping her newly coiffed hair over her shoulder. “It’s a step in the right direction.”

* * *

By the time we make it back to the restaurant where her car is parked, the sun is dipping down into the horizon, and my heart can relate. It’s sinking in my chest knowing that I have to say goodbye to her.

I cut the ignition and twist my body toward her, picking up her hand and clasping it in mine. “Mom, I’m so glad we did this. I had such a nice time. And…thank you for finding my heart.”

“Oh, sweet girl,” she says, pulling me close, “it’s impossible to miss,” she whispers into my hair, “it’s so big.” She breaks away and holds my face, peering into my eyes. “I love you so much. Thank you for what you did for me today…and I don’t mean the Hollywood hair.”