Before He Envies

“A little over three months,” Mackenzie said. She looked away from the slight sting of pain that crossed her mother’s face. “I know. I’m sorry. I wanted to call sooner, to let you know. But after that last time we talked…Mom, I didn’t even know if you’d want to know.”

“I get that,” she said right away. “And it means the world to me that you showed up to tell me in person.”

“You’re not upset?”

“God, no. Mackenzie…you could have never told me. I would have never known the difference. I think I was fully prepared to never even see you again and…and I…”

“It’s okay, Mom.”

She wanted to reach out to her, to take her hand or embrace her. But she knew anything of the sort would feel forced and strange to both of them.

“I got a new blender last week,” her mother said, out of nowhere.

“Um…okay.”

“You drink margaritas?”

Mackenzie smiled and nodded. “God, yes. I haven’t had a drink in about a year.”

“Are you nursing? Can you drink?”

I am, but we’ve got enough stored up in the freezer.”

Her mother made a confused face but then burst into laughter. “I’m sorry. But this is all so surreal…you having a baby, storing breast milk…”

“It is surreal,” Mackenzie agreed. “And so is being here. So…where are we on those margaritas?”

***

“It was your last visit up here that did it,” Patricia said.

They were sitting on the couch, each holding a margarita. They sat on opposite ends, clearly still not comfortable enough with the situation.

“What about that visit?” Mackenzie asked.

“You weren’t overly rude or anything, but I saw how well you were doing. And I thought to myself, she came from me. I know I wasn’t a great mother…not at all. But I am proud of you, even if I didn’t have much to do with the way you turned out. It made me feel like I could make something of myself, too.”

“And you can.”

“I’m trying,” she said. “Fifty-two years old and finally out of debt. Of course, working at a hotel isn’t the grandest of careers…”

“Are you happy, though?” Mackenzie asked.

“I am. More so now that you’ve come to visit. And told me this wonderful news.”

“Ever since I closed Dad’s case…I don’t know. If I’m being honest, I think I just tried to push any thought of you right out of my head. I figured if I could put what happened to Dad in the past, I might as well put you there, too. And I was fully prepared to do that. But then Kevin came along and Ellington and I realized that we weren’t really giving our baby much of a family beyond the two of us. We want Kevin to have grandparents, you know?”

“He has an aunt, too, you know,” Patricia said.

“I know. Where is Stephanie?”

“She finally went ahead and made the move to LA. I don’t even know what she’s doing, and I’m afraid to ask. I haven’t spoken to her in about two months.”

Hearing this stung Mackenzie a bit. She had always known that Stephanie was something of a loose cannon when it came to any kind of stability in life. But still, she rarely stopped to think that Stephanie was yet another daughter who had chosen to live a life mostly detached from her mother. Sitting there on the couch, margarita in hand, it was the first time Mackenzie had ever bothered to wonder what it must be like for a mother to know that both of her children had decided that their lives would be better off without her in them.

“I feel like I should tell you I’m sorry,” Mackenzie said. “I know I pushed you away pretty much after Dad’s funeral. I was only ten, so maybe I wasn’t aware that’s what I was doing, but…yeah. I just kept doing it for the rest of my life. And here’s the thing, Mom…I want Kevin to have a grandmother. I really do. And I hope you might want to work on getting there with me.”

Patricia was again choked up by tears. She leaned crossed the couch, closing the distance between them, and wrapped her arms around Mackenzie. “I wasn’t there, either,” Patricia said. “I could have called or made some kind of an effort. But when I realized you had checked out—even as a kid—I let it go. I was almost relieved. And I hope you can forgive me for that.”

“I can. Can you forgive me for pushing you away?”

“I already have,” Patricia said, breaking the hug and sipping from her margarita to stem the flow of tears.

Mackenzie could feel her own tears coming on, and she wasn’t quite ready to be that open in front of her mother. She stood up, cleared her throat, and downed the rest of her drink.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said. “Let’s grab dinner somewhere. My treat.”

A look of disbelief crossed Patricia White’s face which was slowly dissolved by a smile. Mackenzie could not remember ever seeing her mother smile so wide; it was like seeing a different person. And maybe she was a different person. If she gave her mother a chance, maybe she would find that the woman she had pushed away for so long was not quite the monster she had convinced herself she was.

After all, Mackenzie was definitely a different person than she had been at ten. Hell, she was a different person than she had been a little over a year ago when she had last spoken with her mother. If having a baby had taught Mackenzie anything, it was that life could change pretty quickly.

And if life itself could change so quickly, why not people?

CHAPTER SEVEN

Mackenzie woke up the next morning with a very gentle hangover. Reconnecting with her mother over dinner had been nice, as had the few drinks they’d had afterward. Mackenzie had made it to her hotel room—the luxurious one she and Ellington had agreed upon—and slipped into the hot tub with a bottle of wine she had ordered from room service. She knew the two extra glasses she’d had while relaxing in the tub might be a bit too much, but she figured she deserved it after gestating a human being in her womb and having to forgo alcohol the entire time—not to mention the additional time without a drink while she was actively breastfeeding and pumping.

The slight headache she had as she got out of bed and started to get dressed was a small price to pay. It had been nice to be alone after slowly starting to mend things with her mother. They had caught up, shared some stories, shared some pains, and then called it a night. With plans to reconnect in a week or so, after Mackenzie had gotten back home and decided what to do about work, there was only one other thing on Mackenzie’s list of things to do while visiting Nebraska.

She felt like she had come full circle. Traveling here alone, seeing her mother, relishing the wide open spaces the state had to offer. Even though she was not one for sentiment, she could not ignore the draw to go back by her old station—the station where she started her career as a detective almost six years ago.

After grabbing breakfast, she did just that. It was an hour and a half drive from her hotel in Lincoln. Her plane did not leave for DC for another seven hours, so she had plenty of time. She honestly didn’t even know why she was going. She had not cared much for her supervisor and, as ashamed as she was to admit it to herself, she could barely remember anyone she worked with. She did, of course, remember Officer Walter Porter. He had served as her partner for a small stretch of time and had been by her side during the Scarecrow Killer case—the case that had eventually attracted the attention of the FBI and their pursuit of her.

All of the memories came trickling back as she parked her car across the street from the station. It looked so much smaller now, but in a way that made her proud to know it. More than nostalgia, it was a heartwarming familiarity.

She crossed the street and stepped inside, unable to stop the smile from touching the corner of her lips. The small entryway led to a receptionist-type desk, which was paneled in with a sliding glass. Behind the woman sitting at the desk, a small bullpen of sorts was set up and looked exactly the same as it had when Mackenzie had last stepped foot in the building. She approached the glass, delighted to find a familiar face, albeit one she had not thought of in a very long time, sitting behind the glass.

Nancy Yule looked as if she had not aged a bit. She still had the pictures of her kids perched at her desk, and the same little plaque by her phone, reciting a bit of scripture that Mackenzie could not remember.

Nancy looked up and it took her a few seconds to realize who had just walked in the door. “Oh my God,” Nancy said, getting to her feet and rushing to the door on the far side of the paneled wall. The door came open and Nancy came rushing out, capturing Mackenzie in a hug.

“Nancy, how are you?” Mackenzie said in the grip of the hug.

“Same old, same old,” Nancy said. “How are you? You look fantastic!”

“Thanks. I’m good. I just came out to visit my mother and thought I’d stop by to see my old haunts before I headed back home.”

“Is home still in DC?”