Chapter 17: Molly's Mother

Molly’s POV

By the time I woke up the next morning, Scott was gone. I couldn’t tell if I was relieved or disappointed not to see him so soon. My biggest fear was that the disappointment was overruling the relief.
My mother was already in the dining room sipping her coffee. The minute she saw me, her eyes lit up, and she patted the spot next to her.
“Good morning, sweetie!” Willimina exclaimed happily.
I ducked my head to cover up my wince at her joyfulness. I was feeling a lot of emotions that morning, but joy was not one of them. However, I didn’t want to ruin her good mood.
“Hi, Mom,” I replied, forcing some happiness into my voice.
“Did you have fun on your date?” she asked with a saucy wink.
I almost stumbled on my way to my chair. The minute she gave me that wink, the reminder of what happened between Scott and me last night jumped to my mind. For a moment, I wondered how she knew. It took several fast-paced heartbeats to realize that she meant my date with Jean-Pierre. My mind whirled as I tried to figure out how to answer her question. Last night was a conglomeration of millions of things that I would never tell her. I suddenly regretted having Scott tell her that I had a date.
I sat down at the table and slowly poured myself a cup of coffee, stalling to figure out what to say.
“Well???” my mother pushed with a twinkle in her eyes.
“It was… alright,” I replied slowly. “B-but I don’t think I’ll be seeing that man again.”
“Oh no! What happened?” Willimina asked, setting her cup down and turning her attention to me.
There it was... the question I knew was coming but still dreaded. There was no way I could tell her the truth. I was just glad that she hadn’t met Jean-Pierre. I had a feeling that Jean-Pierre could have easily charmed my mother, and then she wouldn’t believe me no matter what I said.
“He just… wasn’t what I had hoped he would be. I just don’t think we have as much in common as I originally thought,” I admitted vaguely.
It was mostly true. True enough, I didn’t feel like I was out and out lying to my mother.
Willimina put her hand over mine, mistaking the guilt on my face for sadness.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” she crooned softly. “I know it’s hard. But these things do happen. At least it happened now before it got so far that it really hurt you.”
I lifted my head a bit to search her face. She had a tone in voice that spoke of past pain.
“You’ve been through this before,” I stated with certainty.
Willimina shrugged. “A few times. Sometimes I figure it out in time. Other times, I was too caught up in the whirlwind romance to notice until it was too late. Those hurt the worst.”
I squeezed her hand in sympathy. I understood the pain of heartache and wished that my mother didn’t know it as well as she seemed to. If I were to be honest with myself, I wasn’t really hurt by Jean-Pierre’s betrayal. I was just really disappointed with myself for not seeing it. Granted, I had only been on a date or two with him. But that didn’t mean that I shouldn’t have seen the red flags. The situation with Jean-Pierre made me feel naïve and dumb, which angered me even more. I felt furious that he couldn’t be the man I needed him to be.
But that just brought up the realization that I had no idea what I needed him to be. What the hell was I looking for? Why was this suddenly so important to me? Before Jean-Pierre brought me to that club, I had been content with him being obnoxiously bossy. But after seeing how things truly should be, I realized I was just fooling myself. I wanted more than what Jean-Pierre was able to give. No, I definitely wanted more than him.
I wanted a kind, caring, passionate, and smart man. It would be wonderful if the man was dominant. Dominate and intense, knowing exactly what he wanted and going after it. A man who knew what I wanted, even if I couldn’t say it aloud. It would be best if he knew me well and cared about my well-being.
Uninvited, an image of Scott came to mind, and I almost choked on my coffee. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that I was describing Scott.
“It’s gonna be alright,” Mother comforted me, mistaking the cause of my distress.
I squeezed her hand again, wishing that I could believe her.
“So, where is everyone?” I asked, filling a small plate with some food.
I wasn’t very hungry. I just needed to stay busy before I continued to think about Scott.
“Well, Scott left much earlier to check on the club he is helping with, and Paul is still sleeping.” Willimina giggled. “He had a few too many cocktails last night. By the time I managed to get him to go home, he was babbling to everyone that could listen. I had to remind him that he wouldn’t be able to shake off the hangover as easily as he could when he was younger.”
Paul was only about ten years older than my mother. But that in no way made either one of them old. However, Paul was not much of a party, cocktail, socializing man. Whereas my mother was the quintessential high-society wife. All self-taught, as well. Which was an impressive feat in my eyes. She had trained herself to be the perfect companion to a powerful businessman, coming from next to nothing all the life she had built for her and I.
I really thought that was one of the reasons my mother and Paul got along so well. Paul was the oldest of ten children born to a poor family in southern Tennessee. He would often speak about how he had to care for his siblings as he grew up. Then, as soon as he was old enough, he had to get a job to help his mother pay the bills. His mother ruled her house with an iron fist to keep her children in line. I met her once, on the day my mother married Paul. She didn’t seem like an altogether kind woman and certainly wasn’t worth the praise Paul often gave her.
After speaking with her for a few minutes, I quickly decided just to stay away from her. Whether she was cruel or just narrow-minded, it didn’t matter. Paul gave her a lot of credit for the way he turned out. I would never deny that he was strong and willing to do what it took to ensure his family was taken care of. But I couldn’t see how he was anything like his mother.
“I’m sure he’ll be rambling about shortly,” Mother commented with another giggle.
I gave her a genuine smile, enjoying the sound of my mother’s delight. “So, how was the party?”