I put my arm around her. She was pale, her happy energy not there today. We headed out to the pond, then sat down on the red bench, the lily pads floating, so soft, a blue heron taking off in flight, his wings graceful, strong.

“Maybe I’m feeling sentimental, emotional, because Jules is getting married. You own your own bookstore, you’ve turned a run-down carriage house into a home. You’re both so smart and strong and driven, and I love you two. You are my heart, you and your sister, as you both were your father’s heart, too.”

I ached for my dad, a pain in my chest. The pain for a beloved parent never leaves, I think; the grief sneaks up on you sometimes, bringing an aloneness that only that parent can fill. I took a deep breath as she wiped tears from her cheeks. “Mom, what is it? There’s something else. Are you sick? Is Aunt Camellia or Aunt Iris sick?”

“No, no. We’re three healthy, old rebels who sometimes drink too much wine.”

“But you’re upset.” I was so worried. What was this all about? There was something wrong. There had been something wrong for weeks.

She smiled at me, too brightly. “Love for you two makes me cry.”

That wasn’t it. She always told us she loved us and she didn’t cry about it. I pried a bit, and she diverted my questions, changed the subject, I tried again, and she sashayed away conversationally speaking, and we started talking about the flowers she was going to plant for her fall bouquets inside the greenhouse. The blue heron came back, gliding over the pond.

I studied her. She was staring at the heron but not seeing it.

“Mom, please. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, dear. Nothing at all.”

She lied.

My worry ratcheted up another ten notches.

* * *

Finally, my glorious cat appointment with Marco rolled around. I washed my hair and blew it out into a clean black wave. I put on red lacy underwear and a red lacy push-up bra. Marco would see neither, but I needed confidence. I pulled on a red shirt with ruffles down the front and unbuttoned one button too many. I laid on my bed to squeeze myself into my light blue jeans. I needed to go running or work out. I laughed as I sucked in to button them. Nah. That would hurt. I slipped in my earrings with three red roses hanging in a row.

As usual, I’d scheduled myself for the last appointment of the day. I told Gayle after Marco arrived on the island and I started bringing him my animals that I always needed the last appointment of the day because I worked late. I tried not to laugh when I said that. Gayle tried not to laugh, too. She is anything but dim.