The Expansion of the Universe

Forty-One | "I've got to stay tan."

"Did I tell you I've been volunteering at that rescue ranch by our house?" Liza's mom asked over the phone several days later.

Liza's fingers paused where they'd been stroking through Milo's fur. She and her dog were sitting on her back porch, since the weather was sunny and warm that day, but the dog had already worn himself out by racing through the grass, and was collapsed against Liza's thigh. "The one for the hurting kids?" Liza had volunteered there when she'd been in high school. It was a non-profit that rescued horses from bad situations and used them to heal kids going through difficult times, like the loss of a parent or recovering from abuse.

"That's the one," her mom confirmed, sounding proud.

The pride was well-deserved, considering, "I thought horses scared you?" When Liza had volunteered there during high school and worked with the animals on a weekly basis, Mom had always stressed how worried it made her.

"They did, and they still do, sometimes," Mom confessed, "but I've learned a lot about working with them, and I love the peace and safety they seem to bring to people." There was a short pause, before her mother added, "It made me feel closer to you, too. It's helped me a lot, and I'm grateful that the ranch has let me take on so many hours."

Liza's heart ached at the thought of just how much she'd hurt her mother—her sweet, wonderful, amazing mother—with her silence. "I'm glad it's helping you, but I'm—I'm sorry that I'm the cause," she croaked. With a bitter laugh, she shook her head and mused, "You always told me that I wasn't like Dad, but I think I've become his mirror image."

"Elizabeth, don't you dare say things like that." She blinked in shock at how furious her mother sounded. "The only thing you share with that man is a pair of eyes and some genetic material."

Even with how certain Mom sounded, Liza wasn't convinced. "I left you!" She protested.

"You were the only survivor of a horrible plane crash," Mom was quick to point out. "You were preyed on by the man who caused it, and it's a blessing that you lived, baby. Do you think I care if you go years without talking to me? I'm your mom, Lizzie. You could shun me until I die, and even though it would hurt, I'd be grateful to God so long as you were alive and happy. Your father was not a good man, but he gave me you, and I'll always be grateful for that."

Liza removed her hand from Milo's back to wipe at her eyes, which had grown wet at Mom's words, which were filled with conviction. "You are not like your father," her mom continued fiercely. "You could never be like him. Do you think he ever apologized for leaving? No. And he certainly didn't have a good reason for it, either. You could never, ever be like him, Lizzie. You may have his eyes, but you sure as hell don't have his cold heart."

"Will you forgive me, though, for leaving?" She asked, her voice hoarse with unshed tears.

"There's nothing to forgive, baby, don't you see?"

Thinking back to Elijah, who had asked for forgiveness multiple times, even though she'd assured him that he had it, Liza could finally understand why hearing the words was so important to him. There was something reassuring about hearing the words, "I forgive you," even if the person was adamant that such words were not necessary.

"I . . ." she cleared her throat. "I appreciate that, but—but I'd like to hear the words, anyway, please."

Her mom breathed out slowly. "I think I understand. I forgive you, Lizzie. I do. Don't ever believe anything otherwise."

Her fingers curled around her phone tighter, and she choked out something between a sob and a sigh. "Thank you, Mom. Thank you." As scary as it was, to think about leaving the house, the more she spoke with her mom, the more she considering leaving to (finally) visit the wonderful woman.