a camera.”
The hospital? Trampled?
First Liam’s crazy dog, now the moose. The animals had gone crazy since she’d been away. Although she could sympathize with poor Ed Candy’s broken foot.
Posy’s foot throbbed with pain. She’d probably been up and about too much today. She needed to lie down and get it elevated. She needed an ice pack. She needed an Advil. Desperately.
Don’t go there.
As if she were reading her mind, Posy’s mother asked, “Can I get you anything?”
“Mom, you don’t have to wait on me. This is my home, too.” Posy forced herself to smile, even though she suddenly felt like crying.
She would not cry. Not now. She shouldn’t feel sad. She should feel mad.
She pretended she was onstage and rearranged her features in a mask of neutrality. “I need to talk to you about something.”
“Oh?” Her mom’s gaze flitted about the room, which told Posy she knew perfectly well what was coming. “It’s awfully late. You said so yourself. We can talk in the morning.” She extended a hand toward Posy’s suitcase.
Posy wheeled it out of reach. “No. I want to talk about it now.”
“Okay. Sit down, sit down.” Her mom patted the sofa cushions and then took a seat opposite in the chair where her dad used to sit when he watched the moose report. Who knew where he sat these days?
Posy obediently sat sideways on the sofa and propped her foot up on a throw pillow. She wondered how long it was going to take before one of them finally mentioned her injury. “Mom, I appreciate your talking to Lou and getting things in order for me to work at the church, but...”
Tears stung the backs of her eyes again. Why was this so hard to say? She had every right to be upset. But sitting across from her mother, looking at her face—at the new lines around her eyes and the worry in her gaze—her indignation began to slip away.
She should have visited more. She hadn’t even come home for Christmas. Not that she ever would have been able to take leave of the ballet company during the holidays. The weeks that stretched from the end of October to New Year’s Day made up Nutcracker season. Everyone knew as much.
“I wish you would have told me that Liam was the youth pastor,” she finally said.
Her mom sighed. “I’m sorry. I just thought...”
“You thought you could have him spy on me. To make sure I’m not taking any pills. Right?” Her throat burned. It hurt to say the words aloud, but someone had to.
“Posy.” The lines around her mother’s face deepened.
“Mom, admit it. Please.”
Her mom took a deep breath, and she seemed to wilt a little on the exhalation. “That’s part of it, yes. But try to understand. Other than the handful of times we’ve been to California to watch you dance, your father and I haven’t seen you in seven years.”
“Six,” Posy began to whisper, but the word died on her tongue.
“After what happened last time, we wanted you here. At home, where you belong.”
Is this where I belong, God?
She didn’t bother waiting for an answer.
This was her home, but no, it wasn’t where she belonged. Not really. She was just here because she was hurt. She belonged onstage. Her foot belonged in a ballet shoe, not the ugly plaster where it currently resided.
“It’s not like the last time, Mom. I promise.”
Her mother nodded. She didn’t believe her. She might want to, but she didn’t. That much was obvious. And Posy wasn’t altogether sure she blamed her.
God, why is this all so hard?
Posy glanced up at the ceiling. But instead of finding God, all she could imagine were the snow-laden boughs of the giant blue evergreen spread over the town like angels’ wings.
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