A Killing Frost

“She would be saving lives.”

There was grief in Fran’s hazel eyes. There was also a strong faith that Jama could never hope to emulate. How did a mother like Fran cope with the death of her daughter?

How many times had Jama wished that Fran had been her mother? Not just mother of her heart, but mother in reality.

And why, after all these years, was Jama recalling her own mother’s failings so often?

Jama braked at a light and turned left. She’d driven this route so many times….

“Jama,” Fran said softly.

“Yes.”

“You know worrying doesn’t help.”

Jama was so glad Fran couldn’t really read her mind at that moment. “I know.”

“Neither does brooding about the past.”

“Are you talking about yourself now? Sometimes we can’t control our thoughts.”

“I know. Sometimes we do it anyway, don’t we?”

“Yes.”

“Sometimes, maybe, it’s simply a way of honoring those we love,” Fran said. “A way of giving them space in our hearts. And you’re one of my kids. You have one of those places of honor in my heart.”

Jama negotiated a sharp curve as the pressure flooded her chest and worked its way up. Over the years of residency, she’d learned the important art of emotional detachment. She’d lost that skill for about a year after Amy’s death, but eventually it returned.

Until now.

For a long moment, Fran said nothing. Jama glanced over to find her staring out the window, and the pain in that brief glimpse was dark and hard—the harsh and ugly scars of a break in the earthly bonds of mother-daughter love that weren’t meant to be erased by time, or by faith. They were simply meant to be endured. At least, that was how Jama saw it.

“You were the sister Amy so desperately needed in her life,” Fran said at last. “As a middle child, with two older brothers who were into their own activities, and younger twin sisters who were inseparable, she sometimes felt left out, I’m afraid. If not for you, Amy would have had a much lonelier childhood.” Fran looked over at Jama. “And now you’re the one who’s alone.”

“Now who’s worrying?” Jama teased. It was time for a lighter mood.

Fran tapped her lips with her fingers. “Shame on me.”

“So to give you something different to ponder, what do you think about Zelda Benedict joining the staff at the clinic? She helped me with Monty this morning, and her skills are top-notch.”