Naked (35 page)

Violet and her mother exchanged a silent look. One of defeat. Ruby was right.

And just like that, the anger she’d been harboring toward her mother vanished.

“Why don’t you let me go in?” Ruby asked. She often wondered why a young woman like Ruby chose to work with older patients, specifically patients who were skirting the edges of reality. “I made some tea. Why don’t you take Violet to the kitchen? It’s on the stove.”

Her mother reached out and grabbed Ruby’s hand, a silent act of solidarity. “Thank you.”

A minute later, Violet settled her mother at the edge of the six-by-six kitchen island and poured them each a cup of tea.

“Mom, are you all right?”

It was a stupid question. She knew even before it left her mouth.

Her mother shook her head, her palm cradling her forehead as if she couldn’t even hold her head up. “It feels like my entire life has been ripped out from under me and I’m floundering.”

In that moment, Violet felt aligned with her mother for the first time in a very long time. “I know a little about that.”

Bridget sobbed, letting her head fall forward. “Sweetheart, I’ve done some terrible things.”

Violet had never seen her mother like this. So torn apart. She was utterly devastated.

“The last little while has been too much to take. First your father was diagnosed and then your accident.” She sucked in a breath. “I thought you would die.”

Violet’s chest tightened. This was the first time her mother had acknowledged the gravity of the accident. The first time she’d acknowledged that she had been frightened.

“I wake every morning not knowing if the man I married will be lying beside me.” Her lip quivered as she tried to hold back more tears. “Sometimes I leave the house. Even when I have nothing to do, I just leave. I can’t stand to see him like this.”

“Mom, that’s not terrible.” Violet reached over and consoled her, resting her hand on her mother’s forearm.

Her mother looked up, shaking her head. “I screwed up with you.” She reached out, but pulled her hand away quickly. “How could I not know my own daughter was hurting? How could I not know about your scars? What kind of mother does that make me?”

They had all been through a lot the last year.

“I was so concerned about what other people thought. I was afraid that once it all came out, about your father’s illness, I—” She swiped the tears from under her eyes. “I didn’t want the board to find out and you get caught up in something that was going to hurt you so…” Her mother looked down at the floor like a coward. “So I might have told that handsome associate foreman to stay away from you.”

Violet dropped the teacup to the saucer with a clink. “That
is
terrible. When?”

Noah had never mentioned anything about it.

“The night of your father’s retirement party.”

Noah had acted weird that night in the coatroom. He had left, and she had no idea why. Her mother was the answer. But what was more concerning was the fact that he’d listened to her. If Violet hadn’t tracked him down, she had no idea where their relationship might be today.

“But most of all,” her mother continued, “I will never forgive myself for the way I reacted when you showed me your scars.”

Violet shook her head. “Mom, I don’t need you to fix—”

“No!” Her mother fisted her hand on the island. “I can never take it back and it kills me.” She shook her head, tears streaming down her face once again. “You are beautiful, Violet. There is no denying that, but you have to know that every time I look at you I am in awe that you came out of my body. That your father and I made something so exquisite.” She leaned forward, settling her hand on Violet’s cheek. “It’s everything about you, Violet. Your intelligence, your kindness, your determination and strength. It’s just that saying you’re beautiful, in my eyes, sums it all up.”

Violet had never looked at it from that perspective. She’d never thought there could be more to her mother’s words than met the eye.

“I let my fear control me and in trying to protect you, I only made things worse.” She looked up, her green eyes glassy and red from tears. “I just didn’t want your future to be ruined because we socialize with assholes.”

Violet straightened in shock. That was the first time she’d ever heard her mother say anything untoward about their social circle. She hadn’t come from money. She had met Ward Walker on a lovely spring afternoon outside of a movie theater, or so he had always told the story.

“So that’s why you’ve been so weird about finding me a suitable marriage?” She changed the tone of her voice to match her mother’s at the last two words. “You thought no one would want to marry into our family.”

Her mother was afraid that no one would want to marry into so much baggage. That she might never find happiness because people were judgmental assholes.

Well, join the club, Mom.

Bridget snorted. “When you put it that way it sounds moronic.”

Moronic, yes. Although it still made perfect sense. She just wished her mother had been honest from the beginning.

But she didn’t need a man to be happy. She had a chance for a bright future in construction, but she needed support. From her board of directors. More important, from her family.

“Why are you so against me taking over the company?”

“I’m not, sweetheart.” Bridget straightened the collar of her light blue sweater and rested her palm in the hollow of her neck. “I just don’t want to see you hurt. I don’t want anyone thinking less of you, berating you, talking down to you just because you have breasts. If I ever saw that I think I would—”

Violet couldn’t help it. She lunged across the island and wrapped her mother in a bear hug.

Bridget cooed in her ear and stroked her hand down her hair. “Sweetheart, I believe in you. But you have to realize that people are always going to judge you on your beauty. Unfortunately, that’s the way the world works. But don’t let that stifle you. Blow people’s perceptions away.” Violet released her grip, and her mother placed her hand on her shoulder, focusing Violet’s attention to her words. “Twenty years from now people won’t be saying Violet Walker, the most beautiful CEO. They’ll be saying Violet Walker, the kickass woman who grew Walker Industries into a multi
billion
-dollar conglomerate.” She cupped her cheek. “But you can’t do it alone. You need someone to lean on.”

Violet groaned. “Again with the husband thing?”

“I’m sorry about that. I’ll…stop.” She laughed. For the first time since she’d arrived her mother didn’t have a frown. “Although I don’t think you need me to play matchmaker anyway. You’ve already found him.”

Violet shrank back to her side of the island. “Who?”

“The handsome foreman.” Her mother waggled her eyebrows. “That boy loves you.”

Violet snorted. Her mother had no idea how complicated the situation was. It wasn’t just about love. She’d been lying to him. For the entire time that they’d known each other.

“That boy looks just like I did when I met your father—equal parts smitten and awestruck.”

Violet would be lying if she said she didn’t want him to be smitten and awestruck. Because she sure was.

“It doesn’t matter.” She shook her head, standing to bring her still-full teacup to the sink. “It’s going to end badly. I made the decision to get involved with him. Just another bad decision I can’t take back.”

“Violet…” Her mother joined her at the sink, turning her body to face her. “You can’t possibly think you had anything to do with that accident.”

How did she know that’s what Violet meant? She hadn’t told anyone except Harper about her survivor guilt.

“How do you…?”

“I may have gone off the deep end for a little while, but I’m still your mother.”

Violet couldn’t hold in her tears. “It’s my fault we left the party. We were arguing, and he…” She shook her head, trying to wring out the guilt. “You know the worst part?”

Her mother laid her hand over hers and squeezed, urging her to continue.

“I was relieved because I dodged a loveless marriage. Not to mention I’m seeing clearly for the very first time. My eyes are wide open to the true colors of the people I’m supposed to be friends with.”

“Sweetheart.” Her mother enveloped her in a tight hug.

“He made me feel like a deviant. Like there was something wrong with me because I wanted to try new things in…” Heat rose up from her neck to her cheeks. She was
not
having this conversation with her mother. “Well, you know.”

“You think you’re the only woman in the world curious about sex.” Her mother waved her off as if talking about sex with a parent was no big deal. “Your father and I had our fun.”

“And I think I might throw up now.” Violet suppressed a gag.

“Is that what you’ve been doing with Noah? Experimenting?”

“That was the plan…” She walked away toward the opposite end of the kitchen, leaning over the island and resting her head in her hands.

“But then you developed feelings for him?”

Which was why she couldn’t show him her scars. She couldn’t stand it if he thought less of her. Thought her anything less than perfect.

“What man is going to want—?”

Her mother grabbed both sides of her face and stared her down. Her green eyes, almost the same eyes Violet looked at in the mirror every day, were intense and swirling with regret. “Don’t let my colossal mistake ruin this. Yes, you are so beautiful, inside and out.” One hand petted the side of her face. “Scars or no scars. CEO of a company or not.” She let her forehead rest against hers. “Show him, honey. Give him the chance to decide for himself.”

Tears made their way down Violet’s cheeks. And her mother dried them. Just like all of the times she’d done it when she was a child. The woman she’d been frustrated with over the last year had vanished. That woman had been afraid. For her family. For their future. But the air was now clear and the cards had been laid on the table. And Violet was just happy she didn’t have to face the seemingly impossible challenges ahead all alone.

“He won’t say no, honey.” Her mother smiled. “But if he does…then I’ll cut his balls off and have them drywalled at our next build.”

Violet let out a burst of laughter.

Her mom was back. Her dad might be far away, and might never be present again, but he was alive. Now all she needed was the man she loved.

Nervousness gripped her insides. How could she muster the courage to bare her soul when there was the distinct possibility he might never forgive her for lying?

“He’s going to hate me, Mom. I lied to him. I want to buy his house to tear it down. It’s his childhood home and a present for his mother.”

Her mother returned to her side, placing a hand on her head. “You know what I think the best part about being in charge is?” She leaned down, whispering in her ear. “Being able to change plans anytime you want.”

She was right. Maybe Violet still had a chance to make this right. She would come clean and they could figure out a new plan, together. One that kept his childhood home intact but would still win over the board.

She would go to him and lay it all on the line. And hopefully, when she removed her scarf, he’d be capable of giving her the reaction she needed.

Chapter 30

Mr. and Mrs. Beckford had lived on this street for forty years. Noah remembered them since childhood, running around the yard in a cape pretending to be Superman.

Their children lived in the city, so he’d taken it upon himself to check up on them now that he was back in the neighborhood. They were in their eighties now but still pretty active. They walked a little slower and took a little longer to remember, but they were the same people that had lived down the street from him when he was a kid.

He crossed the silent road to their walkway, the faint squeak of Mrs. Beckford’s rocking chair the only sound above the rustle of the plastic bag in his hands.

“Noah, so nice to see you.” She sat in her usual chair, right in front of the lilac bushes. When she noticed the bag, she waved him away. “How many times have I told you not to bring us food?”

He always brought a bag of groceries when he visited. A carton of milk and a loaf of bread they could freeze, some other staples, and always something sweet. This time he’d brought a box of cannolis from the Italian bakery in town.

“I know, but I want to.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “What if you run out of milk and Mr. B isn’t feeling up to driving into town?”

At his age, the man probably shouldn’t have a license.

Noah helped Mrs. Beckford from her rocking chair and led her into the house. When they reached the kitchen, he dropped the bag on the table.

From what he’d remembered, the kitchen hadn’t changed in seventeen years. Which meant it hadn’t been renovated either.

There were light wood cupboards, which matched the brown flowers on the plastic surface of the kitchen table with metal legs. The tile on the floor was beige and orange, in the same pattern as the laminate that covered the counters. It was heavily marked from years of not using a cutting board. At least the appliances were white and not puke green.

Noah heard the television in the other room. He poked his head in, and Mr. B was in his recliner watching the news. Papers, books, and trinkets lined every surface available. If they had any hope of moving out of this house one day, they needed to start packing now.

“I heard that you took a pretty girl on a date in town.” Mrs. Beckford had just finished filling the kettle and now placed it on the stove.

Noah hung his head. “I forgot how fast news travels here. She’s our neighbor and it was a friendly drink.”

“I guess friendly drinks include kissing at her front door?” Mrs. Beckford grinned. He’d never seen that mischievous sparkle in her eye before today.

“How do you know that?”

“That one knows everyone’s business, Noah.” Mr. Beckford had made his way to the kitchen. Even when using a cane he was eerily silent. “Don’t let her age fool you. She’s got eyes like a hawk.”

“Oh, you…” She swiped a hand at Mr. Beckford’s arm as he crossed her path and sat at the table with Noah.