The Mystery at Sag Bridge

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

I bet Mom will love my haircut.

Hot tears formed suddenly in Cora's eyes. She dashed them away, hoping the young hairstylist wouldn't notice, but too late.

"Is something wrong?" the girl asked, taking a step back and removing the comb and scissors from Cora's hair in alarm. "Did I hurt you?"

Her eyes shiny, Cora shook her head. "No," she said. "I just was looking forward to showing my haircut to my mother." Her voice shook and she cleared her throat and swallowed a few times. "We liked to show new things to each other. My mother died two years ago," she went on. "I forget it sometimes, like she's still here. Just give me a minute." Cora reached to the shelf below the mirror, took a tissue, and blotted her eyes as the girl watched, unsure what to do or say.

"It's okay," Cora said. "I'm okay. You can finish."

Cora paid for the haircut, and back in the car her tears started again. This time she let them flow as she drove toward Saint Brennan's Church. She'd better pull over to compose herself, or Father would think he was dealing with an emotional cripple.

Two years, and I miss her like it happened yesterday.

She pulled into the public library parking lot and walked into the rest room, thankful she didn't run across anyone she knew. She entered a stall and sat.

Most of the time she was able to put her feelings about her mother out of her mind by promising herself she would think about it later, a later she consciously put off again and again. She buried it and went on with her life, not allowing herself to think of how much she missed her, and she was even able to forget. Times, like this morning, she would just break down for no apparent reason.

She knew, like all daughters know, she would lose her mother one day; but knowing that, knowing all women expect to have that experience, knowing it wasn't the only time she would cope with grief, didn't help her when it occurred. A brutal realization, she thought, that we don't value sufficiently what we have until we don't have it, let alone how painful it will be when it's no longer there. Mothers, grandmothers, great-grandmothers, daughters, granddaughters, great-granddaughters-those are bonds we experience firsthand, going forward as well as back through the years, threads into the past and the future, loss and longing linked across the generations.

If only I can stop remembering!

She finally controlled her tears and left the stall. Looking in the mirror, she saw what she expected-signs she had been crying. She took a paper towel, wet it with cold water and held it against her eyes until the burning stopped.

Why did she take time for that haircut? When life got intense, Cora functioned best if she arranged distractions, forcing problems out of her mind until she felt better able to confront them. Such respites prepared her to reason more effectively. She thought getting a haircut before her visit with Father McGrath would provide just such a break. Well, that sure backfired.