“Nervous about Eric coming to dinner?” Brigit asked matter-of-factly.
“A little. Technically speaking, it’s the first date I’ve been on since I was twenty years old,” she mumbled morosely. She glanced over at her mother. “Aren’t you nervous about Eric coming here?”
“Not so much. A few months ago, I would have thought it was bizarre, the idea of him coming to a family Thanksgiving. I remember how angry he was during the hearings. Sometimes I felt like he thought I was the one who had robbed him of his mother and injured Natalie.” Brigit had a faraway look, as if seeing those emotion-filled, painful memories after Derry’s death from a great distance. She sighed and turned off the gas burner. “Eric was just a kid at the time. I don’t blame him for his anger, even if I had trouble accepting it back then. I was too filled with my own grief, my own loss, to comprehend how another person could hold anger toward me. I didn’t understand that when death strikes so many, the emotions ricochet around like a bullet in a sealed room, hitting targets you would never expect. Eric’s anger toward me was just as misplaced as mine toward him. It was wrong, but it still makes sense. Maybe we needed to go through it. Maybe. But it’s done now.”
Colleen stood very still next to the counter, goose bumps on her arms. Seeing her mother in an unguarded moment was rare.
“You like Eric, don’t you?” Brigit asked quietly.
“Yes,” she replied, averting her face while she began rinsing the plates.
“What’s the problem, then? I see the way he looks at you.” Colleen turned her head at the sound of her mother shutting the stove. The delicious aroma of roasted turkey and sweet potatoes wafted through the air. “I can tell you’re nervous, honey. You always did get quiet when you were worried about something.”
“Quiet and clumsy,” Colleen mumbled.
“Exactly.”
She knew Brigit wanted her to open up, but she felt torn. How could she tell Brigit that one of the reasons she was feeling so conflicted about engaging in a relationship was her hurt over what she’d discovered about her mother and father? She wasn’t a child anymore. It wasn’t as if her parents owed her anything.
So why do I feel so betrayed?
Her hands stilled as she set down the gravy bowl. The thought shocked her a little. Is that how she felt? Betrayed by the knowledge of her parents’ infidelities?
“I’ve worried about you,” Brigit said, drawing her out of her thoughts.
“Me?” Colleen asked, caught off guard. “Why?”
Brigit took off the oven mitts, looking thoughtful. “For the first couple years after Darin died, I understood you were grieving. I know how hard it was for you. But as time went on, I began to wonder if you’d ever consider allowing other men into your life. You’re so independent. You’re a lot like me that way.”
Colleen continued with her actions, as though nothing was wrong, but Brigit’s unexpected openness made the questions she’d been repressing for the past few months pop into her brain.
Why did you do it, Mom? How could two people who loved each other so much have strayed? Part of her was desperate to understand how her mother could have betrayed Derry…how Derry could have betrayed her.
“Colleen,” her mother said softly, drawing her out of her thoughts. She went still when she saw Brigit’s expression. Her pretty face looked more lined than usual, weighed down by sadness and regret. Dread rose in Colleen’s breast. It reminded her of how she’d looked on that night last summer when Liam had confronted her about Lincoln DuBois.
They’d spoken of it on that night—Derry’s emotional upset at the time of the crash, Brigit’s affair with DuBois and the discovery that Deidre wasn’t Derry’s child. Brigit had been devastated by revealing those secrets to Colleen and Liam, but Colleen had remained strong, trying her best not to crumble when her mother was so vulnerable.
“Yeah, Mom?” Colleen asked in a false “everything is fine” tone.
“Does any part of your nervousness about Eric have to do with last summer?”
“Of course not,” Colleen murmured evenly, her heart thrumming louder in her ears at the knowledge that Brigit had somehow gleaned her private thoughts.
She glanced sideways when her mother didn’t immediately respond. Brigit’s mouth trembled.
“Because I want you to know something. I know everyone—maybe me most of all—has said you and I are alike over the years, but they’re wrong. I’m wrong, to always be saying that to you.” Brigit inhaled as if for courage. “The truth is, you’re stronger than me. I keep things to myself, while you were always comfortable with who you were. You were always confident enough to openly express your emotions.”
“Mom—” Colleen began, but her mother stopped her by holding up her hand in a halting gesture.
“Let me just say this, and it’ll be done. Mari told me about what you said to Janice Tejada at the engagement party—how Janice should go and talk to Tony while the emotions were fresh…get it all out in the open. I’m not sure how you got so wise about that sort of thing, but you certainly didn’t get it from me or your father. We hid our feelings and vulnerabilities…buried our hurt. We paid for it in the end. I can’t tell you how proud I am of you for being so open and honest about your feelings.”
“Your pride may be misplaced,” Colleen said, thinking of her cowardly avoidance of Eric because she didn’t know how to handle her attraction to him.
“I don’t think so,” Brigit said quickly. “Anyway, I won’t belabor this. It’s still a tender wound for all of us, and it’s a holiday. I’m only bringing it up because I know how your mind works. I’ve seen how you look when you’re second-guessing yourself, and you’ve really got yourself twisted into a knot when it comes to Eric. I just wanted to say, you and I—we’re two different women. I made mistakes in regard to love, and I live with that regret. But don’t make my regret yours, h
oney. Try to trust yourself.”
A shudder of emotion went through her. “Mom, I don’t know what to say.”