Chapter 10
1365words
Mother's "Sunshine" coffee bookstore is no longer the only scenery on that quiet corner. The second branch has opened in a bustling area of downtown; the only difference is the hustle and bustle outside the windows, while the reassuring aroma of coffee and the atmosphere of books remain the same. The name Katherine Crawford is no longer known in the community as someone's ex-wife, but as a respected female entrepreneurial role model. Her story has been featured in local magazines, becoming a beacon of light for many middle-aged women.
But what made her glow even more than her career success was the quiet arrival of love. His name was Arthur, a professor of comparative literature at the university, who started as just a quiet regular customer at the bookstore. He always chose the same spot by the window, sitting for entire afternoons with a cup of black coffee, immersed in thick books. Their paths crossed over a rare edition of poetry.
That afternoon, Arthur unusually showed a trace of anxiety as he lingered in front of the bookshelves for a long time. Her mother happened to pass by and softly asked, "Are you looking for a particular book? Perhaps I could help."
Arthur turned around, his eyes behind the glasses gentle and bright, and smiled somewhat shyly: "I'm looking for a first edition of Whitman's poetry collection. I know it's a long shot, but..."
"'Leaves of Grass,' the 1855 edition?" Mother's eyes lit up, and she turned to walk towards the deepest bookshelf in the store, where she kept her personal treasures. She carefully took down an old book that had been well-wrapped, and handed it to Arthur, "I think this is what you're referring to."
Arthur took the book, his fingertips gently caressing the ancient and rough cover, his eyes filled with indescribable delight and excitement. He looked up, shifting his gaze from the book to his mother's face, with the profound resonance of finding a kindred spirit. "Katherine," he called her by name for the first time, with a certain solemnity in his voice, "I don't know how to thank you."
"The best thanks would be to share with me your feelings as you read it," Mother smiled, refilling his coffee cup, "Consider it the book's joint hospitality to both of us."
From that day on, their conversations were no longer limited to polite greetings. They discussed everything from Whitman's cosmic perspective to Borges' labyrinths, from narrative structures in films to the emotional impact of a symphony. Arthur's gentleness and erudition softly dispersed the last lingering shadows in her mother's heart. He admired her resilience, praised her taste, and respected her independence. His love was not about possession or taking, but rather equal appreciation and companionship. Mother regained the ability to love, and this time, she loved with composure, tranquility, and dignity.
I completed my master's degree in psychology as planned and became a formal psychological counselor. For my first consulting office, I didn't choose a bustling commercial district, but instead set it up on the second floor of my mother's first coffee bookstore. Downstairs were coffee and books that heal the mind, upstairs was listening and guidance that comforts the soul. My mother and I, in a wonderful way, jointly operated a business about "healing." I focused on helping women who had suffered trauma in marriage, using my professional knowledge and that deeply memorable personal experience to guide them out of the shadows and find themselves.
My life also turned to a new chapter. Alex, my college classmate, the boy who silently stayed by my side when I was emotionally at my lowest, has now become the most solid support in my life. His love is pure and direct, never wavering because of my family's past, but instead making him more sympathetic toward my upbringing. Our relationship is stable and sweet, and we plan to hold a simple and warm wedding next spring.
"I'm truly proud of you, Eva," my mother would sometimes say during breaks from work, coming upstairs with a cup of hot cocoa, looking at the professional certificate hanging on my office wall, her eyes full of contentment, "You've turned your most painful experience into strength to help others."
"Because I have the best role model," I smiled and embraced her, "You taught me that no matter what we go through, we always have the right and ability to stand up again." We stood together at the office window, watching people come and go in the bookstore below. Mother and Arthur were talking softly in the sunshine, their faces radiating peaceful happiness. We, mother and daughter, after weathering that storm, had finally each found our own safe harbor, and by staying close together, became each other's strongest support.
My grandparents remained in good health. They had long since moved past the grief of losing their youngest daughter, or rather, they had chosen a wiser way to face reality. They are now the most loyal regulars at "Sunshine" bookstore, almost daily making their way over with walking canes, unhurriedly settling into their designated sofa, watching Katherine busily moving about the store, their eyes filled with pride and contentment.
"Come to think of it, we should thank that golden wedding anniversary celebration back then," Grandfather took a sip of the causeless coffee specially brewed by Mother and said with a strong voice, "If it hadn't been for that incident, how could we have seen clearly who was truly the thoughtful and filial child."
Grandmother nodded in agreement beside him. She held my hand, patting it gently: "Seeing your mother living so well now, and you, being so successful, we can put our minds at ease about everything. Although that child Rachel... sigh, she remains a heartache, but one must look forward. The way things are now, for our family, this is already the best possible outcome."
In their words, there was no longer resentment toward Rachel, only a sense of relief as if dust had finally settled. Though it was painful to lose a daughter whose soul had been twisted by jealousy and resentment, seeing their eldest daughter rebuild such a beautiful life from the ruins brought comfort enough to heal all wounds. A family cleansed of betrayal and lies instead displayed a healthier and more harmonious demeanor.
It was another weekend afternoon, with spring sunshine generously streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows of "Sunshine" bookstore, bathing the entire space in a warm golden hue. Our family had gathered together for a rare reunion. My mother Katherine, her partner Arthur, myself, my grandfather, and my grandmother, all sat around the long wooden table that had witnessed countless stories. The air was filled with the rich aroma of coffee and the sweet scent of freshly baked muffins, everything peaceful as a painting.
I raised the lemon tea in my hand, looking at every smiling face at the table, feeling an overwhelming sense of emotion. "I'd like to propose," my voice clear and resolute, "a toast to Mom, to all of us, and to those brave enough to begin new lives."
Arthur smiled as he raised his black coffee, his eyes filled with deep love for his mother. Grandpa and Grandma also happily raised their glasses of milk.
Mother looked at me, her eyes sparkling beautifully in the sunlight, and she raised her cup, gently clinking it against mine with a crisp sound. "And to past hurts," she said with a smile, her voice calm yet full of strength, "because they've made us stronger and taught us to cherish the happiness before us."
We drained our drinks together in one go. Outside the window, cherry blossoms in the courtyard were in full bloom, cluster after cluster, swaying gently in the breeze with their pink and white petals. The life that was once torn apart by betrayal has now been stitched back together by our courage and love into an even more beautiful and complete tapestry.
