Free The Marriage Pact by Dinah McLeod

annoy my little brother and he responded in the way he always did, by promptly hanging up. I hit the off button and plopped onto the loveseat with a sigh. Jonas always told me not to worry about it—it was his way of being a good, supportive brother—but I always did. With each new incident that he relayed, I could hear the strain growing, reaching out to me across six states, begging for the help he’d never let himself ask for.
    I knew that, even though we were both dancing around it, one day he’d bring up the dreaded n word, as in nursing home. It was inevitable. And even knowing that, I still couldn’t bear the thought. My mother didn’t belong in a place like that, especially when she had two successful, able-bodied kids.
    I’d looked down at the wedding invitation in my hand, tapping it thoughtfully as the cogs in my head whirled. The truth was, I’d never thought of Minnesota as home, even after all these years. It was too cold, too busy, too impersonal a state for me. My heart would always be in Georgia, it seemed. It wasn’t like I had anybody special holding me back… Which was why I’d decided to start submitting my resume to the hospitals near my hometown. I’d gotten a couple of nibbles right away, which had made it safe to turn in my resignation. I expected to feel a little sad, or panicky at the very least—I’d been working every single day since med school. But I felt nothing but relief, which only bolstered my decision that it was time for a change.
    In our last conversation before I’d bought my plane ticket, Jonas had said everything he could think of to try and talk me out of it. He’d insisted there was no need for me to come home, that he was fine on his own. He’d gone so far as to demand I go to the hospital and ask for my job back. I’d never known what a good lawyer he was until that moment, but the stubborn gene that made him a natural at his job ran in the family. I’d stayed firm until he’d given in—and was that a bit of relief I heard in his voice?—and I’d immediately started packing. It was strange how little I’d accumulated in all the time I’d lived in Minnesota.
    I’d scheduled a flight back home on a one-way ticket and now, here I was, sitting across the table from my mom, sipping coffee like nothing had ever changed. God, she looked so much better than I’d imagined. The phone conversations with Jonas had led me to believe that she was an old, frail woman, but to me, she looked much like she always had. Like the mother I’d always known and loved. Maybe she had a few more lines around her mouth, a bit more gray in her soft, coppery brown hair, but otherwise, she was the same. It warmed my heart to be sitting with her, looking into her familiar blue eyes and sunny smile.
    “How’s the coffee, dear?”
    “It’s great, Mom. Thanks. You didn’t have to go to the trouble.”
    “Coffee’s no trouble, dear, no trouble at all. The day I can’t make coffee is the day I’ve really lost it.”
    My mouth dropped open a bit before I had the presence of mind to close it. I couldn’t believe she’d so casually mentioned her debilitating illness, in a light, easy tone, accompanied by a chuckle. Suddenly, I realized I was staring and I looked away. “Well, there’s always that, I guess.”
    “Oh, don’t look so morose, Shana!” she teased. “We all get old eventually. Why, your father always used to say, you’re either old, or you’re…” She trailed off, her eyes clouding with the memory.
    Or you’re dead , I finished silently, closing my eyes and sending up a quick prayer for Dad. I thought of him often and missed him terribly. But no one could miss him as much as my mother did—he had been the love of her life, and that was something you didn’t just get over.
    “How do you take your coffee, Shana?”
    I blinked in surprise. She’d already fixed me a cup, the very one that I was holding. “I—”
    “Cream and sugar, right? Now, where’s that