Page 85 of Begin Again

“No. So I’m starting my shift that week on Monday night, Christmas night. I can enjoy Christmas Eve day or night and not worry. We can wake up together on Christmas Day if you want. Do what works for us and then I’ll sleep a few hours before I go into work like I normally do at the start of my shift.”

“That sounds like a great plan to me,” he said. “Just like we are spending some of today together.”

“We are,” she said. “Thanksgiving is just about food for me. Not really family.”

They never talked much about her family or memories she had.

“I think a lot of people feel that way,” he said. “Smaller families more so.”

“Yeah,” she said. “I don’t remember any big Thanksgiving dinners growing up. But I do remember Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I’m at a good point in my life and want to have some of those memories with you now.”

“Thank you for that,” he said, moving closer and giving her a kiss. She had to stop chewing for that.

“Why are you thanking me?”

“Because it was what I needed to hear without even knowing it.”

27

Some Nostalgia

The doorbell going off while she was sleeping was an annoyance that Liz hated.

She wasn’t sure what was worse. The doorbell camera that she allowed Christian to install months ago going off when packages were delivered or someone actually ringing the bell now.

The two of them had half-heartedly argued over the cameras, but when he said it’d make him feel better that she could see movement around the house when she was working at night or sleeping during the day, she conceded.

It wasn’t a big ask, and the truth was, now that she owned a home and she was gone at night, it did make sense to her.

She grabbed her phone when the bell went off again. It was eleven in the morning. She’d only been sleeping three hours. One more and she’d get up for the day anyway. Since it was Friday she only slept till noon and would go to bed with Christian tonight.

She liked they spent Friday and Saturday nights together. And with her being off on Sunday for Christmas Eve that would be three nights in a row.

She rubbed her eyes as she looked at the woman on her front porch. Then she zoomed in.

Shit. Was that her mother? She hadn’t seen her mother in ten years, but it looked like her, even though the woman was unkempt and frail looking.

She hit the button to talk. “Hang on. I’m coming.”

She whipped the covers back and got dressed. She couldn’t imagine what this could be about.

Abby had told her that their mother hadn’t reached out again. It’d been over a month. Her mother never reached out to Liz at all.

She had sweats and a cotton shirt on, slippers on her feet and was running down the stairs and opened the door.

“Liz?”

“Yes. Mom?” she asked.

“You remember me,” her mother said.

“Hard to forget,” she said. She was looking the woman over. She was in clothing too big for her. Jeans that had seen better days. A fleece jacket instead of a winter coat. The black fleece was worn and two sizes too big. She was guessing it was a hand-me-down or donation to a home her mother might be in or have been in.

“Can I come in?” her mother asked.

“Sure,” she said. There was part of her that didn’t want this drama, but the other part of her that wouldn’t let someone leave that needed help. “How did you find me?”

“I talk about my girls to people.”