Free Home to Hart's Crossing by Robin Lee Hatcher Page B

Perhaps if she stayed in Hart’s Crossing a while longer, she would find the answers to the questions that plagued her.
    Angie swiveled her chair around 180 degrees, thinking that her life had been a good deal simpler when she wasn’t so bent on self-analysis and spiritual discovery.
    * * *
    Francine awakened to the smell and sound of bacon sizzling in a frying pan. Turning her head on the pillow, she looked at the red numbers on her digital clock. Six-forty. What on earth? Angie rarely ate breakfast, let alone this early in the morning.
    Francine sat up and reached for her robe. A short while later, aided by her cane and moving slowly, she made her way out of her bedroom, down the hall, and into the kitchen. The table had been set with the bright yellow plates Francine favored. The clear-glass tumblers had been filled to the brim with grapefruit juice.
    “My word,” she said. “Are we expecting company?”
    Standing at the stove, her back toward the kitchen entrance, Angie glanced over her shoulder. “Morning, Mom.” She smiled at Francine as she pulled the skillet from the burner. “I thought I’d get a jump start on breakfast. Are you ready for your eggs? I can fry them now that you’re up.”
    “Thank you, dear.” Francine wasn’t nearly as hungry as she was curious. “Just one egg, though.” She took her usual seat at the table.
    “Okay.” Angie removed the strips of bacon from the frying pan and placed them on paper towels to drain before taking the eggs out of the refrigerator. “I couldn’t sleep last night, Mom. I was thinking a lot about the meeting Bill and I had with Kris Hickman.”
    Angie hadn’t said much to her mother when she returned home the previous afternoon, and Francine had been careful not to press for details. She’d sensed Angie wasn’t ready to talk. Now it appeared her daughter was ready to open up.
    “I was thinking maybe I—” Angie stopped abruptly, pulled the skillet from the burner a second time, and turned toward Francine. “Mom, I love you.”
    A lump formed in Francine’s throat. “I love you, too, dear.”
    “I…I need to tell you how sorry I am.”
    “Sorry? For what?”
    Angie came to the table and sat down. “I love you, Mom, but I haven’t shown it the way I should. I’ve been so stingy with my time. I’ve loved you when it was convenient for me and my schedule. That’s a selfish, self-centered kind of love. All these years, you’ve never chastised me for my selfishness, even though it must have hurt you.” Tears brimmed in her daughter’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
    Francine took hold of one of Angie’s hands and squeezed. “You’re forgiven, my darling child. I’ve always understood how important your career is to you.”
    Angie shook her head, as if denying her mother’s statement. “Last night I kept thinking of how Kris never got to tell her mom she was sorry, never got to spend time with her as an adult. She never got a second chance with her mom after she ran away from home. I don’t want that to happen to us. I want to be close to you, Mom.”
    For a time, neither woman spoke. Neither was able. They sat in silence, holding hands, and allowed forgiveness to flow between them. Finally, Angie sniffed, rose from her chair, and went to retrieve the box of tissues on the kitchen counter near the telephone. After wiping her own eyes and blowing her nose, she brought the box to the table so Francine could make use of the tissues, too.
    Francine was still dabbing at the corners of her eyes when her daughter said, “Mom…I think maybe I’d like to stay in Hart’s Crossing a while longer. What would you say to that?”
    “Oh, honey. I’d love it more than anything. You know I would.”
    Angie sat down again. “I don’t know for how long. But I…Well, I need to figure out some things about myself. I need to change some of my priorities. I think I could do that better here, without the pressures of my career pulling me this way and