Jakob went first, allowing their father to walk with Wil. Dr. White, with a, “Please call me with any questions,” offering of business card, and final wistful look, departed. The three remaining members of the Winters family walked down the hallway in silence.
Each time a doctor or nurse and patient came hurrying past, Wil was surprised. She saw her father, heard his solid steps. She saw her brother, heard his solid steps. Yet, she also saw herself, from a panoramic view apart from feeling. How curious, that dark-haired, serious-faced girl! Her eyes saw somewhere beyond the flurry of a busy hospital while her boot-clad feet carried her on and on.
Wil thought of her mother. Although they’d seen her body and said their goodbyes, Wil realized she still expected to find her mother alive. This was the hospital they’d visited countless times; surely they were all walking to whatever room Cynthia had been checked into. Surely they would knock, enter, and find her mother and her kind, apologetic smile. Cynthia always apologized for the trouble she’d caused, as if she and they didn’t know about her incurable and fatal condition.
Jakob reached the door to the lobby. Ah, Wil’s feelings told her, We’re leaving the hospital and heading to the apartment. She’d see Cynthia there, at home. Her mother would be resting on the couch; again, with that recognizable smile.
“How was school today, Wil?” She’d say, and sit up. “Tell me all about it.”
A tear slipped down Wil’s cheek. She heard her mother laugh, cough, recover.
“Oh, Wil. Only you could have a day like that…”
The echoes of her mother’s voice and expressions lingered in Wil’s mind as she, too, exited the hallway and entered the small waiting area beyond. She saw Jakob had stopped; to her side, her father stopped as well. All stared as a woman rose from one of the pastel couches and strode toward them.
She was not someone Wil had seen before, yet her appearance seemed familiar. Long, dark, thick hair framed a pale almond shape. As she walked toward them; locks swishing, scarf waving, arms swinging with confidence; Wil noticed the woman’s blue, stormy eyes. They locked onto Wil’s and held her gaze.
“Hello, Wilhelmina.” The woman stopped before Wil, smiling a smile very different from Cynthia’s. “I’m Guinevere Greene, your mother. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”
THE END
Continued from One Hundred Seven.
©2019 Chelsea Owens
chelowens.com 
Who what?
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Don’t tell me you haven’t read all 108 installments…
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No I met you much later in the process.
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🙂 I know. I try to include a link when I write about a character we haven’t seen in a bit.
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I did click that. 😉
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Aw. ❤ You’re a very devoted reader.
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Well then! Good writing.
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All done!!!
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Oh, now, that’s just a cruel way to end the story!
Still (mumble mumble mumble), I guess it was well-written and all that…
Seriously? The end?
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🙂 Cliff-hanger ending!!!
I seriously needed to end it. 108 is a bit high.
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You know what. I’ve been thinking about this. Wasn’t sure about the ending. Now I love it. As Monty Python would say ‘now for something completely different’. Your brilliant with the longer serial stuff would be a shame not to do another one.
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😀 I’ve decided I need to encapsulate them; make them a definite 20 stories or whatnot. I just get caught up in the world and want to keep going.
Have you ever read my Skinwalkers series on here? I like it better; such an interesting world.
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read this a few times now; love the descriptions and pacing but still not sure of the ending?
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Ah. Guinevere is Wil’s birth mother.
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