“They’d love the farm. It’s…” She looked at Maverick, then Everett. “It’s seriously heaven on earth.”
Both men smiled, pleased by her description.
“Can we still do breakfast on Monday morning? I’d really like to talk to you about…” Martha sighed. “Everything.”
Ella considered the request, so tempted to say no, because she couldn’t be entirely certain her sister wouldn’t start the fight about the house up again. However, as she headed off to Virginia, ready to start her new life, she didn’t want any residual anger following her from Idaho, so she decided to give her sisterone last chance. If Martha brought up the house, Ella would follow through on her threat and cut her family out of her life completely.
“Yeah,” Ella said. “Sure.”
Martha gave her a wobbly smile, nodded once, then walked over to where Dad was still fuming by the front door. “Come on, Dad,” she said softly.
Dad glanced at Mom, expecting her to follow as well. When she didn’t, he scowled and—to Ella’s amazement—walked out with Martha.
Mom stepped over to her, studying her face closely. “You’re happy,” she said at last, her words a statement, not a question.
Ella blinked. She’d been expecting her mother to start crying and making excuses for her father. After all, that was what she always did.
She nodded. “Yes. I am.”
“The last time I saw you this happy, we were living in Gracemont. I don’t think I realized that until just now.”
“I was very happy there,” Ella agreed. “Which was why it was so hard when you and Dad yanked me away from the one place that ever felt like home to me.”
Mom’s hand shook as she lifted it, pressing her fingers tightly to her lips and fighting to hold back tears. “Your father thought?—”
“I know what he thought. But you were there too,” Ella interjected. “Staying silent isn’t a get-out-of-jail-free card, and the blame doesn’t rest with just him.”
“You’re right. It doesn’t. I know I’ve never said it, but I’m proud of you, Ella.”
Now, she frowned. Because as much as those words would have meant the world to her at any other point in her life, right now, it felt like a case of too little, too late.
“You’re strong and intelligent and you know your own mind. You’re like my mother in that regard. I’ve never been… I’m not wired that way,” Mom admitted.
Ella knew that. Hell, Gigi had said those very words at least a million times as the two of them tried to figure out how Mom could remain in a home where her voice was so muted.
“I’m more like my father. I know you never got to meet him, but he was a quiet, soft-spoken man, who was content to let Gigi run the household,” Mom continued.
Gigi had described Pop similarly, often calling him a gentle soul, but her grandmother had never made the comparison between him and Mom, never viewed him as someone who wasn’t an equal partner in their marriage.
“I know your father is a hard man,” Mom started. “I know the things he just said were hurtful.”
Ella had heardthosewords far too many times in the past, always a precursor to Mom trying to make excuses for his behavior—and her support of it.
“That doesn’t matter anymore,” Ella interrupted, before her mom could launch into it again. “His cruelty stopped hurting me a long time ago.”
Mom fell silent, looking at her far too closely again.
Ella didn’t even have to try to school her features. Her words were the truth. Dad had lost any power he might have held over her.
“He and I will never have a relationship, and I’ve made my peace with that.”
Mom’s lower lip quivered, tears streaming down her cheeks now. “Have you made the same peace regarding me?” she asked, her voice breaking.
Ella had to swallow hard, dislodging the lump in her throat. If shehadmade that peace, she wouldn’t have texted this morning to make those breakfast plans with Mom and Martha.Of course, that was before she realized why they’d started reaching out to her again.
The easiest answer would be yes, but even as angry and hurt as she was, Ella couldn’t say it. “No,” she responded.
“Are you trying to?”