Not that there are any strangers with Betty, who has taken it upon herself to adopt my mother. Thank God. Apparently, they’ve been in regular contact for the last few months. Betty was the only person my mom knew up here, so after that fateful call where I told her I was staying with James, my mom did the mom thing and called up Betty to do a background check on my uncle. Once Betty confirmed he wasn’t a dangerous creep, they talked. For hours, if my mom is to be believed. And then they made plans to talk again. Every week, my mom would ring up Betty under the pretense of checking on me, but in reality, she was finally getting the unconditional love and care she’d needed for years. From the woman who raised the man who took her virginity. At a youth group conference.

Which is a bit squicky for me still, but Betty finally convinced my mom to see it as something romantic, and that means everything. It’s like I’m finally able to glimpse a shadow of the girl Declan described to me: starry-eyed and adventurous and full of life. She’s there, underneath. Sometimes far underneath, but hey. It takes a bold woman to stand up to the Mrs. Sandersons of the world and pull out a line like, “Just what did God look like when he came down from heaven and asked you to be his judge and jury?”

I mean. Dang. Get me that on a T-shirt.

Baby steps is what I am saying. We’re making baby steps of reparation.

Betty hands over a casserole dish of baked cinnamon rolls to James. “Into the oven at three fifty until we can’t handle the aroma a second longer, then pull them out and plate them, thanks.”

James takes the directions in stride, heading off to the kitchen and accepting his dismissal. Things are the most awkward between him and my mom. Not to mention, Betty is giving him the cold shoulder. Dani seems torn. She was a little quiet during dinner last night, but when he leaned in to kiss her good night, she turned her cheek at the last second. James tried to hide his wince, but I saw it. I’m planning to head into the Outfitters after breakfast to talk with her. I don’t want what happened between James and me to hinder things in their relationship. He’s crazy about her. I’d never forgive myself.

I lean back in my La-Z-Boy recliner, listening as my mom tells Betty about her tentative plans to relocate to Marquette. She’s thinking about taking some night classes and finishing her degree in social work. Betty tells her the senior living community is hiring an activities planner, which, admittedly, my mom would be great at. She loves micromanaging things.