AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Images of my mom flash before me as my eyes study the gray stone, and guilt gnaws at me. It’s been years since I’ve been here. Ever since I moved to America. When I left, I wanted to say goodbye to this place and never look back. I’m a bad son who didn’t deserve my mom. Our life might have been hard, but she loved me. She saved me.
Tears brim in my eyes, and I wipe them away with my sleeve. Then, I squat back down. The stone is overgrown with spindly weeds, proof that I never came to take care of it. I continue pulling weeds by the roots, tossing them away, when I hear a brushing movement behind me.
It’s Jane, I’m sure of it. I knew she wouldn’t be able to stay away. I felt her presence when she stood at the other side of the cemetery, so it’s only natural I feel it now.
“Hey,” she says in a small voice.
I don’t get up, refusing to look at her. Mentally, I try to will my tears back into my eyes.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she says. “I just—is this your mom?”
“Then don’t,” I snap, getting up and throwing another clump of weeds to the side. I keep my back to her, but I can hear her footsteps retreating.
My breath gets trapped in my lungs, and suddenly, I feel even more like a loser than I did a few minutes ago. It’s not Jane’s fault I have feelings for her. She doesn’t deserve to be treated this way.
“Wait,” I say, turning around. “I’m sorry, Jane.”
She stops, angling herself to face me. Her expression, as always, is hard to read, but she doesn’t seem angry.
“It is my mom’s grave,” I say, drawing a shaky breath as she shuffles back toward me. “Appalling, isn’t it?”
“How long has it been?” she asks, kneeling next to me.
As she waits for my answer, she starts yanking out weeds, and that simple gesture melts my heart. I don’t think I’ve ever met a kinder person than Jane Myers.
I wipe the perspiration from my forehead before continuing to clear the grave. “I haven’t been back here since I buried her. Ten years ago.”
She doesn’t say anything. I, on the other hand, seem unable to shut up. “I’m a poor excuse for a son. My mom deserved better,” I snarl, dusting a fine layer of soil off the tombstone.
“Don’t say that,” she murmurs, laying a hand on my shoulder. Her touch spreads warmth to my body, and I wish I could fall into her arms. “You live far away. And it must be hard for you. I don’t know what it’s like to lose someone so close, but I can imagine not wanting to go back after the fact.”
“I should have made the effort. Now look at this mess.”
“It’s okay,” she says, her tone sweet and gentle. “You’re here now. We’re here.”
We spend the next hour cleaning up my mom’s grave in silence. Not that there is anything to say. No words could express what it means to me that she’s on the ground beside me, getting her hands covered in dirt and stung by nettles with me.
“There. That’s a lot better,” she chirps, swiping the stone with her hand to brush the rest of the dirt away. We can see the whole inscription now—Roseanne Green. Proud mother and nurse.
“Your mom was a nurse?” she asks, cocking her head to the side.
I nod. “Always ready to help others in any way she could. She used to say, ‘Life is about people, Colton. It’s not about who has the biggest car or house. It’s about who has the biggest heart.’’’ A bitter laugh escapes my throat, and I sit down on the ground. “Look at me now. I completely failed her. The only person who ever took a chance on me, loved me.”
Jane kneels in front of me. “You didn’t fail her, Colton. You have money, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have a big heart. When I was researching you online, I saw all the charity events you attend.”
“I could do more,” I mumble.
“We can always do more,” Jane says. “But what matters is what we’re actually doing, not what we could do.”
We’re quiet for a moment as a cool breeze brushes past us. “You know, I’ve always wanted to set up a charity in her name, but I’ve never gotten around to it. There’s always a more pressing matter. Something to divert my attention. And then I forget.” My heart clenches at the thought. How could I forget the woman who raised me?
“It’s not too late,” Jane says. “You just have to make the time.”
I raise my head, and my gaze locks on hers. “You’re right. I’ll set it up as soon as we get home. And if I don’t, please badger me every day until I do, okay?”
“Deal,” she says, holding her hand out. I take it, but instead of shaking it, I pull her toward me and wrap her in a hug. Her flowery perfume reassures me and makes me feel at home.
“Thank you, Jane.”
