Jared gave her a puzzled glance but complied. "Mom likes the poppyseed rolls from this place," Jerica explained as she stepped out of the car.
Jared watched her, something stirring in his chest. He hadn't known that. He hadn't known his mother had a favorite food. The woman he remembered was someone who savored everything without preference, treating each meal like a necessity, not a luxury. And yet, here was Jerica, knowing things about his mother that he didn't.
As she returned with the rolls, Jared felt something in him soften. How many times had Jerica visited his mother without him? How much effort had she put into understanding a woman he had always seen as an impenetrable force? He was in awe of her patience and the quiet, careful way she loved, even when it went unnoticed.
