Free When Happily Ever After Ends by Lurlene McDaniel Page B

tea and toast. When it was ready, she climbed the stairs and knocked on her mother’s bedroom door.
    “Tea time,” she announced, trying to sound cheerful. She entered the room and came alongside the bed. “Mom?”
    Her mother opened her eyes groggily. “Hi. What time is it?”
    “Noon.”
    “Are you sure? I feel like I’ve barely slept.”
    “Do you mind if I open the window?” Shannon didn’t wait for an answer, but hurried across the room, jerked up the miniblinds and shoved the window upward. Sunlight and fresh summer air gushed into the room. “It’s a beautiful day.”
    Her mom shielded her eyes. “If you say so.” She dragged herself upright in the bed. Shannon stared, startled. “You’re wearing Daddy’s pajamas.”
    Her mother peered down and smoothed her palm over the fabric. “You must think I’ve flipped out. Last night the bed seemed so big, and I felt so lonely. I put them on. They still smell like him.”
    A lump swelled in Shannon’s throat. She could hardly speak. “I thought we could have some tea and toast together. Maybe talk some.”
    “Come sit down.” Her mother patted the rumpled bed covers. “I’m sorry I slept so late.”
    Shannon poured tea into two cups and handed one to her mother. “It’s the cinnamon flavor you like.”
    “Your father’s favorite.” Her voice sounded wistful.
    “The kitchen’s sort of a mess, but I’ll clean it up later.”
    “I know I haven’t been doing much lately,” her mother confessed. “But I have been
thinking
about getting on with our lives.”
    “I wasn’t complaining.”
    “I know. I have to rejoin the world sooner or later. Life goes on. There’s the business to run, bills to pay.”
    “Some of the girls have been asking about their riding lessons,” Shannon told her. “Most of the club members still want to go to the Knoxville show next month.”
    Her mother sighed. “And there’s the overnight camp-out on July Fourth. Do you remember?”
    It seemed like a million years had passed since she’d rummaged in her father’s desk for stamps for the newsletter. “I’m sure the girls will understand if we cancel it.”
    “Do you want to cancel it?”
    Shannon was ashamed to admit that she didn’t. She wanted to have a normal life again and not have to think about the dark hole of her father’s death. She picked at a loose thread on the bed comforter. “I miss doing the things we used to do.”
    “You don’t have to apologize for wanting to get back into the routine.” Her mother set her teacup on the bedside table. “We just have to decide how much we can handle. What about the show? Would you like to jump Black?”
    “He’ll never be ready in time.”
    “If you work with him every day, he will.”
    Shannon swallowed hard and glanced away. What her mother had said was true—daily, disciplined workouts were the only way to prepare a horse for a meet. Still, the task loomed in front of her, and she felt overwhelmed by its size. “There’s not much time. I can’t train him by myself. Can you help?”
    “I can help some, but there are too many others to get ready and so much to do.” Her mother’s voicebroke and she covered her face with her hands. “I don’t know if I can cope with everything.”
    Shannon watched her mother’s shoulders shake with silent, contained sobs. “Don’t cry, Mom. I’ll help you. Honest.”
    “I miss Paul so much. I’m all mixed up.”
    Shannon felt deeply disappointed. She had wanted to discuss her own feelings with her mother, but she could tell that her mom was in no shape to talk now. She’d have to put it off until another day. Until her mother was stronger. “I miss Daddy, too.”
    Her mother cried harder and Shannon felt powerless. “It’s okay, Mom. We have each other. Remember, Grandma says we Campbells always stick together.” Shannon tossed back the comforter and slid into bed beside her mother and put her arms around her. Her mom continued to cry, so Shannon