Page 56 of Timber Ridge
“We’re here for pie.” Hailey is so excited she literally bounces to a nearby booth.
“Today is apple blueberry,” May says. “Three slices with ice cream?”
“Yes,” Hailey says. “And whipped cream too.”
I give Hailey a high five. “I like how you roll.”
A few minutes later, May arrives with three plates of pie. She sets them down and takes a seat next to Hailey.
I’ve learned that’s the way with May. She doesn’t ask. She just does.
“I’ve been thinking about your mom since the potluck. It is possible that we knew her by something different, as her name doesn’t ring a bell. You know, a nickname. Karen Burrows goes by Sunflower now that it’s unpopular to be a Karen. Do you have a photo of your mom?”
I don’t know why I didn’t bring one to the potluck. Maybe it’s because the only printed photo I have is a recent one, taken just this year. I imagined no one would recognize the girl she was from a picture of the woman she became. Instead, I pull up an old photo on my phone, one from when I was a baby, where Mom looks happy, holding me in her arms.
I turn the phone to May, and she grabs it, her eyes widening. “Sarah,” she whispers, the name barely escaping her lips. The tears come first, followed by deep, wrenching sobs.
I stare at her. The room falls into a heavy silence that seems to stretch on for a lifetime. May clutches the phone to her chest as if it’s a lifeline, her body shaking with each sob.
“Oh, my God. You know my mom.” My eyes well up with the weight of the moment pressing down on me. May reaches for the napkin dispenser and pulls out a few to wipe her eyes.
May nods. She swallows several times before speaking. “Your mom was my Sarah.”
I remember when May ran out to the dock that first day, thinking I was someone else. Despite our differences, she saw something in me that reminded her of my mother. The pieces of the puzzle that have been my life suddenly appear different, and a single thought crystallizes with shocking clarity: “That means ... you’re my grandmother.”
I stare at her, my mind racing to make sense of this bombshell. A mix of emotions floods through me—shock, confusion, and an intense need to understand how it all came to pass.
“Why didn’t I know about you?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. The question hangs heavy between us, filled with years of lost time and unshared memories.
May looks pained, her hands trembling as she reaches for another napkin. “It’s a long story, one that’s difficult to tell.”
“I need to know,” I say. “I’ve been in the dark for far too long.”
“When your mother left here, there were problems. I told her everyone would forgive her and to let it pass, but she refused. The last time I heard from her was after I sent a postcard asking her to come back.” She wipes a tear from her eye. “She called me and told me she loved me but that she had to let me go.”
Kane, sitting across from me, leans forward, his voice filled with awe. “Wow, you came here because of that postcard, looking for your father, or a tie to your mother, and you ended up with a grandmother.”
Hailey, sitting beside me, reaches out to touch my arm. “You’re so lucky. My grandma is in heaven, and I can’t see her anymore.”
I turn to Hailey, her words tugging at my heart. “I am lucky.” I turn back to May. “Why did she let you go?”
My heart aches for May, for the mother I thought I knew, and for myself—caught in the aftermath of choices made long before I could even speak. The realization that my mother lived carrying such a heavy burden makes my throat tighten. Why hadn’t she come back? What had been so terrible to sever ties so completely?
A tear slips down my cheek, unbidden but not unwelcome, as it carves a warm path on my skin. “I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for both of you.” My voice trembles with the effort to stay composed.
May nods, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. “It was devastating. I always hoped she would come back, that she would see how much we all missed her and that ... that whatever mistakes were made could be forgiven.”
The table is like an ocean between us, and impulsively, I reach over and take her hand in mine. “I’m here now,” I say, needing her to know that despite everything, I’m present, and I’m real, and maybe, just maybe, I can be a part of healing this break in our family’s story.
Kane hands Hailey the pen from his pocket and pulls several napkins from the dispenser. “How about you draw some pictures for Daddy?”
Hailey nods and gives her full attention to the task.
“You guys don’t have to stay,” I say.
He takes my hand. “I’m here for you, and I’m not going anywhere.”
I hold on tight like I’m readying myself for a ride on a coaster. I turn back to May. “Okay, tell me everything.”