I'm probably crazy.

Though hordes of therapists over the years have cautioned me against using that word. Crazy. The sentiment stands, either way. Digging up a corpse is not a plan a healthy mind concocts.

But I have to know. Elaina destroyed my belief in love. But that's not what she intended. And hadn't she quoted Snow White? My mother choked to death on an apple.

It's true love's kiss that wakes Snow White. As a child, I still saw that as Father--but he's never loved anyone truly. His conga line of women proved that. Of course, his kiss didn't wake Mother.

How often did Mother say I was her one true love? But I never heard her, not really.

I pry open the coffin lid.

The reek of decomposition knocks me back.

Yellowed teeth stick out of her jaw. Patches of flesh cling to her, discolored and shriveled. Her lips are gone. So are the wrinkles on her face. Her nose is gone too. Yet her wedding ring sits on her skeletal hand. I reach down. In one fluid motion, I jerk the offending item off of her.

She's nothing but bones and scraps of rot now. The fumes released by opening the coffin are like needles pricking at my eyes. And those teeth, without lips they seem so huge.

I can't do this, but I must do this.

When my eyes and nose have cleared of the stench, I move back over the body, doing my best not to breathe in. I know kissing her won't wake her up. That's impossible. Only madness could bring me here--and yet, even staring at the remnants of my mother, I don't doubt myself.

"I love you, Mother. I've always loved you." The odor is so thick it enters my mouth, coats my tongue, and I gag once more, bending over her.

I catch my breath, lean over her and close my eyes.

My lips press against her teeth, and tears burn in my eyes. I wrap my arms around the rags covering her decomposed shoulders.

She shakes.

I let her go and leap back.

No words cover what I see as flesh knits itself over my mother's bones. Tissue forms filling out a silhouette I remember. A glow emits from her skull, creating the eyes that have haunted my memory for ten years.

She screams, a hoarse anguished cry, and thrashes inside her coffin. The scream fades into a wheezing breath. Then another set of wails.

"No, no," I say. My own fear leeches into my soul. What have I done? Have I hurt her again?

She blinks, rubs her eyes and looks at me. Mother is younger, freed from her wrinkles and gray hairs, but she's still her. I am not the ten-year-old child she left behind, and I wonder if she'll even recognize me.

Then she smiles and tears brim her eyes. I know she remembers me.

Tears blur my vision and I reach out my arms to her. "I tried to save you, I did. I'm so sorry."

Mother sits up in her coffin. Her body shakes and her mouth opens to form words. No sound comes out.

"I love you," I say. I mean it. My heart pounds, filled with the lost emotion.

"You were always my true love, Selene. How did I forget that?" Mother reaches out her hand, and I take it. Her hands are soft.

I want to tell her about Jason. How kind and patient he is. I want to call him and tell him where I am, even if I don't know yet if my answer to marriage is yes or no.

Things will be okay, even if I don't yet know how. That's what love does. It gives us faith.