A Mother's Homecoming by Tanya Michaels Read Free Book Online

blinked as if determined to keep tears at bay. Was she grieving Mae’s death?
    â€œI won’t be returning to California,” Pam said. She doubted she could scrape together the gas money to get as far as Alabama, much less the west coast. “I don’t honestly know what my plans are from here, but—”
    â€œYou don’t have a job you need to get back to, then? A husband waiting for you?” Julia’s voice had softened, more weary resignation than censure.
    â€œNo, ma’am.”
    Her aunt, like most normal people, might view the lack of a family and a career as failure. But what Pam
did
have waiting for her if she chose to return were weekly meetings and a sponsor. Which meant there was at least a chance for some kind of eventual success; that was more than she’d been able to say in a long time.
    â€œI should bring out the rest of the tea,” Julia announced abruptly. Never mind that all three of their glasses were still full.
    Pam shot a questioning look at her uncle. Since when was Julia so high-strung? When he said nothing to fill the ensuing silence, she prompted, “Is Aunt Julia okay?”
    â€œThe circumstances have been hard on her,” Ed answered, so quietly that Pam strained her ears to follow his words. “Losing her sister, to some extent. But mostly … losing you.”
    â€œMe?” Pam had grown up with the vague sense that Julia didn’t like her. Julia had never seemed to much like anyone.
    â€œThere were things between your mama and your aunt.” He stopped himself, shooting a guilty look toward the kitchen. “If Julia was ever hard on you, it’s because she wanted better for you. She loves you. You know how she always finishes her Christmas shopping so early? That fall, when you left town, I found her in our room, crying over a package with your name on it. It’s still in her closet. She’s refused to donate it to charity, even though we didn’t know if you were ever coming back. Or if you were even alive.”
    Tendrils of guilt curled through Pam like smoke, making it difficult to breathe. After her reckless flight from Mimosa, she’d spent sleepless nights alternately regretting the way she’d left Nick and hatefully hoping that her mother was worried sick. It had genuinely never occurred to her that her sudden absence might hurt Julia and Ed. Even with the picture he painted, Pam still couldn’t imagine her starchy aunt shedding tears.
I wasn’t worth them.
    â€œUncle Ed, I’m …”
    â€œYou’re what?” Julia asked from the doorway, her expression suspicious. “Sorry to interrupt, I just couldn’t contain my curiosity. What have the two of you been discussing? Pam’s exciting life beyond Mimosa?”
    Exciting
was one word for it. Pam reached for the ends of her hair, a nervous girlhood habit. She had a moment’s disorientation before she remembered that she’d hacked a good six inches off of it last year and had been keeping it short ever since. She rose. “Can I help you with that tray, Aunt Julia?”
    A pitcher of tea sat between a plate of muffins and—
hallelujah—
a china bowl of sugar.
    â€œI think not,” her aunt said. “This pitcher is vintage. Everyone knows fatigue makes people unsteady, and you look like you haven’t had a full night’s sleep in a month of Sundays. You’ll stay with us tonight, not out there at Trudy’s.”
    It took Pam a moment to process the imperious decree as an invitation. “Thank you. It’s kind of you to offer.”
    â€œWell, we’re kin.” Julia sniffed. “Not that you could tell from the number of messages and letters we’ve had from you over the years.”
    Now, beneath the criticism, Pam heard the decadeplus of worry. “I’m so sorry I never let you know where I was.” Sorry for all of their sakes. If she’d allowed