Page 14 of Between Passion and Revenge: Part Two

“I’m really sorry, Mama. If I could have gotten away from work, I would have. I promise.”

She makes a sad sound over the line as I turn onto Ontario Street.

“I just know one thing. I ain’t going nowhere outside my house anytime soon. Heck, I might even miss out on church a few weekends,” she says.

Mama still lives in Bronzeville despite all my efforts to get her out of the South Side and into a condo with security, amenities, and people who are also over the age of sixty-five. She’s a two percent shareholder of Orisun, which makes her a multi-millionaire on paper—but she says the only place she wants to rest her bones is the house she shared with Daddy.

But she said once we left Massachusetts for good, nothing but Jesus Christ Himself could get her to leave her house again,and seeing as this was the last place she had my daddy, well, I don’t blame her.

I feel blessed that I had him for as long as I did. He was diagnosed with prostate cancer a year after Mama and I came home from Cambridge, which, in a way, was perfect timing. It’s like God let me finish my program and be back home in time to help my father live out his last years.

He’s been gone for eighteen months now, and while the loss doesn’t get easier to deal with, the pain of his absence is starting to feel almost normal.

What a thought.

“Have Lacey and Norah not been pulling their weight? They know this isn’t a vacation for them, and they should be working to take care of the kids more than you.You’rethe one who is on vacation,” I say, feeling a prickle of agitation hit me again. Am I going to have to fire another set of nannies?

Jesus, no.

“Lacey and Norah are sweethearts. They’re wonderful with the kids. Much better than the four oafs you sent along with us.”

I chuckle. “Mama, those are guards. They’re meant to bleed into the background.”

“Well,” my mother says primly, “you’d think they’d at least want to have a conversation just a little bit, but no, dear. You’ve sent quite enough help along.”

So what’s the problem?I want to shout, hoping that she could sit and enjoy the expensive free trip I’ve given her. But I know that’s not possible—not only because she’s my mama, and Opal Rivers hasn’t ever backed down from a cause she thinks is right, but also because she’s not angry for herself.

I know she’s not.

“Can I talk to them? Are they awake?” I hold my breath, knowing that Imightbe able to get Raiden on the line, but I know Tempest will decline to speak to me.

What was it the parenting coach said about their big emotions?

“They’ve had a long day, so they’re already down for the evening. Regardless, you and I still need to talk.”

Mama goes silent as I turn onto State Street.

Three. Two.

“How could you cancel on them again?” Instead of the hard, accusatory tone I expect her to take, she’s gentle when she delivers the question. Almost as if she knows it’s a bomb waiting to explode, and the clock’s counting down like in that Peter Pan remake,Hook.

“I…” I blow out a breath, my shoulders tensing.

“Shae, the whole point of the trip was to make up for missing their first-grade graduation. Tempest practicedWhat a Wonderful Worldfor three weeks straight, and Raiden got the highest award for the year, and yet?—”

“And yet I missed it. I know, Mom. It’s not like I wanted to disappoint my children. I love them! Iwantedto be there. But I’m the only one who can do what’s needed for Orisun, and sh-stuff’s getting hard.”

I catch myself before I swear, and doing so takes some of the wind out of my sails.

“I’m sorry, Ma. I’ve told them I’m sorry over and over. If a trip to Disneyland Paris doesn’t make it up to them, I don’t know what will,” I say.

“Shae, they don’t wantthingsor fancy trips. They want you, baby. That’s all they ever want, especially since you’re all they have.”

The road ahead warbles, and I realize I’m about to start crying, and I refuse. Turning the AC on blast, I shock my senses before sniffing and saying, “I’m doing my best, Mama.”

She’s silent in response to that statement.

“Baby…you don’t need to be a billionaire,” she says, her voice soft. I have to bite my lip to keep from snapping.