A Target's Love

21

Elizabeth quickly walked out of her office and shut the door quietly behind her. The soft sound resonated loudly in the silence of the empty lobby. She was in rare form today and had sent everyone home after lunch. It was spontaneous and completely out of her character for her, but she'd felt compassionate and generous and heavily influenced by a screw-it mood she'd caught from somewhere. Her employees had been working doubly hard over the last few days, so they deserved the longer weekend. Of course, she'd had a few folders of paperwork to catch up on, so she'd stayed back until four. Considering how late she usually left work, she grinned. She'd be getting home early today.

She sighed happily as she walked out of the building. As she stepped into the cool afternoon air, a light breeze danced through her hair, lifting the dark brown strands to catch the afternoon sun and causing them to transform into a molten honey color. A few fallen leaves danced in and out of her path as she made her way to her car.

As she rummaged in her bag for her keys—she always had trouble finding them—she noticed a middle-aged couple walking unhurriedly in her direction on the sidewalk beside the parking lot. Their conversation seemed light and happy; their eyes were oblivious to the flow of human traffic around them, engrossed instead in each other's smiles. Elizabeth felt a wistful smile creep onto her face. They looked so happy. She was reminded of her own mother and father years ago. 

Her mother had been more than just a caregiver--she'd been a mentor and a best friend. Elizabeth missed her dearly, but she chided herself over the sad thoughts dampening her feelings. She knew if her mother was here, she would tell her to smile and think positively. Throughout her childhood, whenever she was down and her mother saw an expression of sadness on her face, she'd say, "Now, what can a good mother do to turn that frown upside down? I'd much rather have my baby grinning like a Cheshire cat than sitting here looking like this." And she'd chuckle and try her hardest to make her daughter smile. No one beamed harder than her mother did when she was able to make Elizabeth laugh.

She remembered all the times her mother would humorously bring up the prospect of death, talking about her funeral and all of the things she wanted Elizabeth to accomplish. Elizabeth never understood it back then and was mostly thoroughly confused, because most of the time she was only pining over a fight with her best friend or a bad math grade. She couldn't understand what her mother's had to do with anything, and neither did she understand why her mother felt the need to speak about herself dying so often, even if she did it in a joking manner. Elizabeth didn't even like thinking about it herself. She couldn't imagine life without her mother. 

In retrospect, she realized she'd missed the pained looks subtly marking her father's expression behind his booming laugh every time her mother told one of her silly jokes. Elizabeth didn't find out until the day her mom passed that they were keeping her cancer diagnosis a secret for years. The pain was almost unbearable, but she knew for her mother's sake she couldn't show it--not even at the funeral. It took a few years after that to truly forgive them both for their discretion.

Realizing that the happy older couple was long gone and she'd be staring into space for quite a while, Elizabeth sighed and yanked her car door open, plopping down into the plush leather driver's seat. She snapped her seatbelt on and turned the key, listening to the engine come to life beneath her. Then, pulling out of the parking lot with a wave to the guard, she headed for home.

Twenty minutes later, she was stepping through her front door into the foyer.

"I'm home!" She called out loudly as she shut the door behind her. "Daddy?"

"In here, honey." Martin Rosheuvel's voice came from the drawing room. Elizabeth hung her jacket up and hurried toward the sound.

She found him sitting in his favorite recliner in front of an open window, the day's morning newspaper open. His large glasses had fallen all the way down his nose and were balancing rather precariously on the tip. It would only be a matter of time until they fell into his lap.