Chapter 28

Emjay

Twenty-seven years ago

"Are you sure you want to move out, dear?" Mrs. Walker's voice trembled slightly as she asked the question. Her orbs reflected concern and sadness. She was having a hard time coming to terms with the idea of being alone again. Only it was time. I'd finally saved up enough money for a down payment on my own apartment in the city. I even had money left over for everything I would need to furnish and supply my home. It took me a little longer because I'd saved up and bought a used car first, ensuring I had reliable transportation for my new life.

"Mrs. Walker, it's just something I have to do," I replied gently. I felt a pang of guilt at leaving her.

"I know, dear, but it won't be the same without you," she said. Her eyes misted over, and I could see how much my departure was affecting her.

Tina brought me to her mother's house almost three years ago. I'd been lost and unsure of my future, but Tina, with her kind heart, took me under her wing. She got me a job in the janitorial department at the law firm where she worked. She also got the documents I needed to work. I never asked how she got them, and she never told me. But after learning more about her career as an attorney, I suspected she obtained them from a former client.

Our friendship didn't grow after she assisted me. Not because she didn't care about me, but because life had different plans for her. An opportunity for a partnership in a prestigious law firm in another state was presented to Tina—a dream come true for her. I was thrilled for her, even if it meant she had to move away.

With me moving in with her mom, Tina had the courage and freedom to follow her dreams. Her mom and I would look after each other, so she didn't have to worry about our safety.

With Tina away, Mrs. Walker treated me as if I were her daughter too. She provided the stability and kindness I had longed for.

She never questioned where I'd been or why I didn't know how to use any of the modern conveniences she owned. Mrs. Walker simply accepted me, patiently teaching me the ways of the world and how everything worked in her home. She showed me how to cook, clean, and even how to manage a budget—skills I had never had the chance to learn before.

Most days, I tried not to focus on what I missed out on growing up or not having a mother like her. But being around Mrs. Walker, seeing her unconditional love and patience, often brought those feelings to the surface. I longed to be the same mother for my children if I ever got them back. She set a high bar for what it meant to be caring, selfless, and nurturing.

As I prepared to leave, I couldn't help the excitement and sorrow I felt. I was eager to start my new life, but saying goodbye to Mrs. Walker was harder than I expected. She had become a second mother to me, and her home a sanctuary. Leaving it meant stepping into the unknown, but it was a step I was finally ready to take.

Twenty-six years ago

Living on my own didn't last more than a year. The independence and excitement of having my own space quickly faded into a routine of work and solitude. My connection to Mrs. Walker remained strong—a comforting thread tying me to the warmth and care I had found in her home.

I didn't seek new relationships. More people in my life meant a greater risk of being found by Basil. I kept to myself, except for Mrs. Walker.

Every Friday after work, I would stop by her house. It became our cherished tradition. We'd prepare dinner together. She taught me her culinary secrets while we talked about our week. Her stories of the past and her gentle wisdom filled the gaps in my heart, making me feel a part of something larger than myself.

Last Friday was different. When I knocked, there was no answer. I stood on the porch and a sense of unease crept over me. Mrs. Walker always answered the door promptly and with a smile. I used my key to go inside. My heart pounding with worry.

I found her unconscious on the kitchen floor, a sight that sent a chill through my body. I rushed to her side. My mind raced as I called for an ambulance. The minutes stretched into an eternity as I waited, holding her hand and whispering words of reassurance.

The hospital was a nightmare. The sterile environment, the hurried footsteps, the cold detachment of the staff. They wouldn't tell me anything about her condition because I wasn't related to her. Frustration and fear churned within me as I waited for news, feeling helpless and out of place.

When Tina finally arrived, her presence brought a glimmer of optimism. We learned that Mrs. Walker had suffered a minor stroke. Relief washed over us when the doctors said she would recover, but she'd need inpatient therapy for a couple of months. The thought of her being alone during her recovery was unbearable.

I promised Tina I'd look after her mom, and I even agreed to move back in with her as a permanent caregiver. It was a decision that came naturally. It was a way to repay the kindness and love she had shown me. My life in the city could wait; Mrs. Walker needed me now.

Tina had just gotten engaged, and her life was blossoming in new and exciting ways. Her mom, with her characteristic strength and selflessness, told her daughter that she'd never forgive her if she gave up the love of her life to move home and take care of her. Mrs. Walker's words were firm, yet filled with love, urging Tina to follow her heart.

As I settled back into Mrs. Walker's home, I felt a deep sense of purpose. This was where I was meant to be, at least for now. The roles had reversed, and it was my turn to take care of the woman who had become a mother to me.

Ten years ago

Rain fell in a steady, mournful rhythm, a fitting backdrop to the heavy sadness hanging in the air. The gray sky mirrored the grief in my heart.

I stood alone at the gravesite, my umbrella barely shielding me from the relentless downpour. I looked down at the freshly turned earth where Mrs. Walker now rested.

The cemetery was nearly empty, the many mourners who came to pay their respects already left, leaving me with my thoughts.

Tina, her husband, and children had left too. All on their way to the after gathering with Mrs. Walker's family and friends.

The petals of the white rose in my hand glistened with raindrops. The world blurred around me. The rain mingling with the tears streaming down my face.

"Goodbye, Mrs. Walker," I whispered, my words barely perceptible over the rain. "You were the mother I never had, and the family I always wanted."

I kneeled beside the grave; the dampness seeping through my clothes, but I didn't care. The physical discomfort was nothing compared to the ache in my heart.

I gently placed the rose on the mound of earth. My fingers lingered on the petals as if trying to hold on to a piece of the woman who had meant so much to me.

Memories flooded my mind—Mrs. Walker's warm smile, her patient guidance, the countless dinners we shared.

My thoughts drifted to Tina who was now married with children in another state. She'd return home in the morning.

At least now I had the means and understanding to make it on my own.

"Mrs. Walker," I continued, my voice wobbly. "I know I can do this without you. I just don't want to. You were my anchor, my guide. What am I supposed to do now?"

The rain fell harder, as if the heavens themselves were mourning the loss of such a remarkable woman. My shoulders shuddered with sobs. Without the comforting presence of Mrs. Walker, I felt so small and alone in the world's vastness.

But even in my sorrow, I had a flicker of resolve. Mrs. Walker had taught me to be strong, to face life's challenges with courage and grace. I would honor her memory by surviving with the wisdom she imparted to me.

I stood slowly, the rain soaking me to the bone, but I no longer cared. I took one last look at the grave, and a silent promise formed in my heart. "I will make you proud," I whispered.

My only regret was never telling her about my daughters. She shared her sordid past with me, and she would have understood. My past trauma wouldn't allow me to trust her with that part of myself.

With a heavy heart but a newfound determination, I turned away from the grave. I walked through the rain, each step a testament to the strength I had gained from Mrs. Walker. The world felt emptier without her, but I carried a piece of her in my heart. And that would have to be enough.