I’d traveled halfway around the world, determined to start living for myself. I never expected an ordinary coffee invitation to bring me face-to-face with something I thought I’d lost over a decade ago.
I stopped so suddenly in Arthur’s living room that my purse slipped from my shoulder.
For a few seconds, I couldn’t hear the kettle in the kitchen.
I couldn’t hear the clock ticking behind me.
I could only stare above his fireplace.
I stopped so suddenly in Arthur’s living room.
And for more than 20 years, I’d believed it was gone.
“Abigail?”
Arthur’s voice came from behind me.
I turned.
He was holding two coffee mugs.
I pointed above the fireplace.
“Where did you get that?”
His face changed.
That was when I knew this wasn’t some strange coincidence.
I’d believed it was gone.
***
I had spent almost my entire adult life taking care of other people.
A husband, four children, and then grandchildren.
I worked as a school secretary for 32 years, packed lunches, picked up sick kids, loaned money whenever someone needed it but rarely got it back, and babysat whenever someone called.
I had spent almost my entire adult life taking care of other people.
After my husband, Robert, died twelve years ago, I became even more useful.
That sounds bitter. Maybe it is a little.
My children weren’t terrible people, but somewhere along the way, they became used to me always being available.
If Karen needed someone to watch her boys, she called.
If David was short on rent, he called.
That sounds bitter.
If Melissa needed help setting up a birthday party, she called.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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