Page 129 of Letting Go at 40

1 Month Ago

August

Bedtime

[Anna]

Mason’s jealous streak startled me, but I did my best to show him he’s the only one I want. When we went to the bonfire, I sat beside him on a blanket. We held hands like a couple. A few raised eyebrows were aimed my way, but I only smiled at the questioning gazes. The position was a bold move, but I was staking my claim.

Mason and I are together. We love one another.

However, one person in particular is watching us. When we eventually return to the house, I want to lead Mason to my bedroom but first I need a moment.

Ruth excused herself earlier from the bonfire, stating she was going to bed. Instead, she sits at the kitchen island. A single light glows down on the countertop where a cup of tea rests before her. Mason presses a kiss to Ruth’s head and excuses himself, saying he’s going to check on Lynlee’s progress getting ready for bed.

“Couldn’t sleep?” I ask quietly.

“Sleep is wasted on the young.” Ruth laughs. We both know kids need sleep as they grow and to rejuvenate their brains for schoolwork. But I agree with her. It’d be nice to shut off the brain and sleep at night as adults.

“Tea?” she offers, holding up her cup.

“I’ll just grab some water.” We share a smile and I retrieve a glass from the cabinet. Once I fill it with water, I take a long sip before facing her.

Our eyes meet. I have things I should tell her, but I don’t know how to begin. “I miss my mother,” I say instead.

Ruth’s gray brows lift. “We all miss someone.” She gives me a knowing smile. “As your only living elder . . .” She chuckles. “Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?”

“I don’t know how,” I admit. How do I tell the mother of my late husband that I’m in love with his best friend? Do I need to tell her?

In many ways it feels disrespectful to our relationship not to explain myself.

“Then let me start.” Her hands release the teacup, and she sits straighter. “When I lost Frank, I thought the world had ended. A heart attack? Not something we ever suspected even though we were aging. Still, I didn’t plan to be alone in my sixties.”

Ruth glances down at her teacup. “I can’t imagine losing the love of my life in my forties.” She pauses. “There’s still so much time to live.”

I nod, agreeing with her as I clutch the glass of water to my chest.

“There are a million sayings about time. Don’t waste it. Can’t buy it.” Ruth waves a hand. “No one can tell you how to spend it, though. That’s up to you to decide.”

“I know,” I whisper, not certain where she’s going.

“But if I might offer some advice.” She looks up at me again, arching a brow. “Enjoy it. Whatever your decision, make certain that time makes you happy.”

I swallow as thickness fills my throat. I’m nodding again without admitting anything.

“You and I are special, dear. We have time. It might feel like a curse. Survivor guilt, I’ve been told. But there is so much to live for. Your children. Yourself.” Ruth exhales. “And love.”

I step forward, keeping the island as a barrier between us.

“I didn’t plan for it to happen,” I say, confessing the truth. I certainly never expected I would feel like this again.

“There are so many things we can’t plan in life. Even when we do expect them, like babies and dying. We just never know the joy and sorrow those things will bring to our lives. We can only be grateful for the time we had in between.”

Ruth’s advice sounds so much like Amelia’s though they are decades apart in age.

“Living is where we love. Some never find it, Anna. Some find it once in their life. Others are twice blessed. To have two men love you so strongly, so differently, how could you not love them both.”

“You know?” I whisper, keeping my eyes on her.