decaf, Mom.”
“Okay.” She took a dainty sip. “Mmm. This is really good.”
Anya smiled a relieved smile. She hadn’t actually stopped by for a simple visit. The flavored coffee was the buffer—bribe had a rather ugly ring to it—she hoped would help her mother accept the news she had to share.
She took a deep breath and prepared herself to spit it out, to just say it. Time was ticking, and Brock would be at her cottage in less than an hour. “A group of people at my church is getting together for a local outreach project in a couple weeks.”
“Oh?” Her mother’s mouth turned down in a slight frown.
Not a good sign. Anya plowed on anyway. “I signed us up.”
“What does that mean? You’ve signed us up to do chores for people? With your church?” Her mother couldn’t have looked more horrified.
If Anya had once been uncomfortable with the notion of God, her mother’s resistance could only be described as Alaskan-sized in its scope. After Anya had first heard those words—never will I leave you—she recounted them earnestly to her mother, struggling to explain how it had felt like God Himself had dropped down from the rafters of the sanctuary and whispered them in her ear. Her newfound faith had been a source of mystery to her mother. She was still reeling from the desertion of her husband, even after twenty-six years. The idea of a faithful God was too foreign for her to comprehend.
Anya sat up a little straighter, wishing they weren’t having this conversation in her childhood room. Sitting on the narrow twin bed made her feel like a five year old instead of a grown woman. “No. I put our names on the list of people who need help with certain projects. I was thinking mainly of the roof. There’s a good four inches of ice up there, Mom. All that weight can’t be good for the house.”
“My house. Not the house. You haven’t lived here in six years. So when you say you put our names on the list, you really mean my name, don’t you?”
“Sort of,” Anya said under her breath. “If you want to get technical about it.”
Although if things didn’t change with Dolce soon, she might be living in this small room once again. Moving back home wasn’t exactly an ideal scenario, but where else could she go?
Anya wasn’t about to admit that the outreach project was designed mainly to help the widows of Aurora. A technicality, in her opinion. Her mother might as well have been a widow. Actually, though Anya hated to admit it, she could already be a widow.
She hadn’t considered the idea before, even when she’d written her mother’s name and address on the list. But there was no guarantee her father was still alive, wherever he was. Anya blinked and waited for a wave of grief to wash over her at the prospect. The wave never came. Instead she felt a familiar, icy numbness in her chest.
“I don’t need any help from your church, Anya. I can take care of my own roof.” Her mother turned back toward the sewing machine, her wrist flicking angrily while she wound the bobbin.
“Mom, let them come help. They want to do this.”
“Then what? What happens after they deice my roof? They’ll expect me to show up at church, that’s what.”
“No, they won’t.” And even if they did, would that really be so bad? “It’s not like that, Mom. No one will expect anything of you in return. They’re just nice people who want to help.”
Her back may have been turned, but Anya could sense her mother’s skeptical eye roll, could feel the bitterness behind it.
Anya rested a hand on her shoulder. “I want to help. Please let me take care of this for you.”
Her mother stiffened, saying nothing, and the sewing machine purred to life once again.
Anya would have preferred a spoken agreement, but she figured this was as close as she was going to get. Before her mother had a change of heart, Anya gave her shoulder a final pat, then slipped from her old bedroom and back out into the snow.
* * *
“Where are we going again?” Anya asked as she climbed onto the passenger seat of Brock’s truck.
“Nice try.” He cast her a quick glance as she got settled. Then he closed the passenger door and jogged through the snow to the driver’s side, pausing on the way to check on Sherlock and Aspen situated in their crates in the back.
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