Page 71 of Pinch of Love
“Me too.” I stared across the lake where the start of Buttercup Camp sat empty. The campers had long since left for the summer. “It didn’t matter how much I studied and learned about addiction. I still hurt from what they did.”
“We all do, sweetie.” Nina cleared her throat. “But we set our boundaries and did the best we could with what we were given.”
“What did they find in Mom’s system?” I asked. “I know Grace will want details.”
“Well, they found a bit of everything, but what killed her was methamphetamine. She had a cardiac event.”
“And Dad is nowhere to be found?”
“Nope.”
“They will cremate her, and her ashes will be sent here.” Nina sniffled. “But I don’t know.”
I knew exactly what she meant. Then what?
It wasn’t like our parents had special places they visited with fond memories or cherished certain times hiking the mountains where we could sprinkle her ashes. They chose to live on the streets. Or, as I would say, as the professional that I was, the addiction chose for them.
But as a child who suffered from it, that didn’t make it easier.
“I thought while you’re in Buttercup Lake I’d fly up for a visit. Then I could see you both.”
I chuckled. “Since when did you become a planner? But, I’d love that.” I heard Cash’s Jeep pull into the driveway. “I’ve got the place here until the end of October.”
“Awesome. I’ll look at my work schedule and text you guys.”
“I have dinner,” Cash’s voice boomed through the back yard, and surely, through the speakerphone.
“Who’s that?” Nina cooed.
“Oh, he’s, umm.” I cleared my throat as his gaze locked on mine. “He’s helping me with my broken foot. He owns the property I’m renting.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s first-class service.”
“It is. I’m spoiled. Talk soon. Love you, and I’m sorry you had to get that call.”
“I’m sorry any of us did,” she said. “Love you too.”
I hung up as Cash knelt in front of me. “That didn’t quite sound like Grace.”
“It was my other sister, Nina.”
“Where does she live?” Cash asked.
“In New Mexico.” I tried to change the subject. “You’re home early.”
“Well, I saw BBQ Bob’s food truck in front of the hardware store and had to order everything off the menu before he ran out.”
“Good stuff, huh?” I smiled, but he cocked his head and studied me.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nah. We’ve got food waiting.”
I wasn’t sure I could go through with telling him. I didn’t want to sound cold or heartless or confused or any of the things I actually felt about my mom. I knew I should be under an oak tree bawling my eyes out, but I knew those tears wouldn’t come. Not yet, anyway.