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It was her mother’s birthday. In the past, Abigail might have lit a candle or baked a cake, but today, she had in hand the only miracle she had ever created. Perhaps it was unfair -- cruel, even -- to have deprived her mother of a visit with her granddaughter, but Abigail had never been certain if Louise had even wanted her growing up. Who was to say she would want Marissa, either?
Holding gently onto the young girl’s hand, Abigail walked her through the cemetery with careful steps. The land was more overgrown in these parts, because very few visited to pay their respects. The man who tended the grounds had said her parents’ markers were cursed, so he wouldn’t touch them. Abigail found she couldn’t blame him. She, too, felt horribly cursed, with the exception of the sweet girl holding fast to her hand.
Abigail had never once thought she’d find happiness in motherhood. In fact, she’d been terrified of the idea of becoming like her parents, and in truth, she still feared she would fail Marissa with time. She always ended up failing everyone. But no matter what, this perfect child with bright, sapphire eyes and a mouth full of sass was hers -- hers, hers, hers -- and she’d never thought it possible to love another human being as much as she loved Marissa.
“Here we are.” Gently squeezing the girl’s hand, they came to a stop in front of Louise’s grave (who’d been buried a considerable distance away from Garrett Jacob Hobbs). Abigail stared a long moment, fighting back tears as she suddenly debated on whether or not to proceed. A part of Abigail didn’t want to share Marissa with Louise, because Marissa was the only pure thing in life she’d ever created. Everything else was dark and broken and ugly, and she’d be damned if her child became tainted, too. Nevertheless, Abigail ultimately decided Marissa deserved to speak with her grandmother, albeit secondhand.
“Hi, mom,” she softly said. “I know it’s been eight years, but...I have someone I’d like you to meet.” Placing a fond hand on Marissa’s shoulder, Abigail squeezed the young girl in against her side. “This is my daughter -- your granddaughter, Marissa. I think she would’ve liked you... Especially your affinity for baking sheet after sheet of cookies, and how you’d only have just one for yourself, ‘cause you swore you were on a diet.” With a sad little laugh, she nudged Marissa. “Do you have anything you want to say to your grandma, honey?”
