will open the front door.”
He still held on to her arm, his warmth reaching her even through the layers of her clothing. “Walden told me about your mother. What happened. Thank you for this, this gift of shelter. I can’t tell you what it means to us.”
She looked away, unable to answer, and focused on the small green buds daring to show on the azaleas surrounding the walk. Soon they’d unfold into a riot of scarlet and fuchsia, announcing the arrival of spring. But no one would be here to see them bloom.
Seth squeezed her arm and returned to June. Lucy watched them climb the steps, cross the porch, and open the door as if the house belonged to them. Or they belonged there. She inhaled, the scent of the approaching storm cleansed the air. Then she limped up the path to the house that in her heart would remain forever empty.
<><><>
“MOM’S NOT COMING.” Megan didn’t bother turning the statement into a question as she slid into the empty passenger seat of her father’s SUV when he picked her up from school. She tossed her backpack into the rear and settled in, knees folded, feet pressed against the dash.
“It’s her first day back to work.” Her father. Always taking Mom’s side of things. Like Mom was some kind of superhero out there saving the whole wide world. Megan knew better. Her mom couldn’t save anyone, not when it really counted. Her mom was just a mom—and not a very good one at that.
“First day of light duty. Paper work,” she said. Megan caught her father’s glare at her sarcastic tone but ignored it. “Do you have any idea what she’s doing today, Dad?”
“Yes. I spoke to her at lunch.” He paused, his expression a familiar one. His editorial look—the one where he decided how much to tell her and how much to keep a secret.
Megan was tired of people trying to protect her, treating her like a child. She’d been right there with her mom and dad two months ago when that man, that creep, that sonofabitch who murdered her grams, she’d been there—hell, she’d been the one to help bring him down before the cops shot him.
She’d protected both of her parents that day. Not her mom, the one who carried a gun and whose job it was to keep people safe. People like her grams.
If Megan couldn’t trust her mom, the woman who’d saved so many innocent victims, who’d stopped so many bad guys, if she couldn’t trust her to keep her family safe, then who could she trust?
No one. That’s who. She only had herself. Fine. Whatever. She could deal with that.
She tightened her arms wrapped around her knees. “You have no clue what Mom was doing today.”
Her father turned to glare at her. “Don’t you use that tone of voice with me, young lady.”
“I’m just telling you the truth.” She straightened her legs and sat up straight. They stopped at a red light and she took the opportunity to pull her phone out. “Look. This is Mom’s so-called desk duty. She lied. To both of us.”
For a psychologist her dad had a piss-poor poker face. He watched the video of the crazy motorcycle dude crashing into two men then snatching up a pregnant woman and her mom driving after him—off the side of a hill!
Frustration, fear, and anger all took a turn but finally he just looked sad. Disappointed. The look Megan dreaded ever being on the receiving end of.
“She had no choice,” he said, facing forward as the light turned green. “That pregnant girl could have been hurt.”
“She always has a choice,” Megan interrupted before he could tell her—again—how important Mom’s job was, how she did what she did to save lives. What about their lives? What about Mom’s? “Isn’t that what you’re both always telling me? To think things through, make good decisions.”
His mouth twisted at that, ring finger drummed against the steering wheel. Wow, he really was pissed off this time. Megan leaned back again, satisfied that her dad finally saw how out of control her mom
He still held on to her arm, his warmth reaching her even through the layers of her clothing. “Walden told me about your mother. What happened. Thank you for this, this gift of shelter. I can’t tell you what it means to us.”
She looked away, unable to answer, and focused on the small green buds daring to show on the azaleas surrounding the walk. Soon they’d unfold into a riot of scarlet and fuchsia, announcing the arrival of spring. But no one would be here to see them bloom.
Seth squeezed her arm and returned to June. Lucy watched them climb the steps, cross the porch, and open the door as if the house belonged to them. Or they belonged there. She inhaled, the scent of the approaching storm cleansed the air. Then she limped up the path to the house that in her heart would remain forever empty.
<><><>
“MOM’S NOT COMING.” Megan didn’t bother turning the statement into a question as she slid into the empty passenger seat of her father’s SUV when he picked her up from school. She tossed her backpack into the rear and settled in, knees folded, feet pressed against the dash.
“It’s her first day back to work.” Her father. Always taking Mom’s side of things. Like Mom was some kind of superhero out there saving the whole wide world. Megan knew better. Her mom couldn’t save anyone, not when it really counted. Her mom was just a mom—and not a very good one at that.
“First day of light duty. Paper work,” she said. Megan caught her father’s glare at her sarcastic tone but ignored it. “Do you have any idea what she’s doing today, Dad?”
“Yes. I spoke to her at lunch.” He paused, his expression a familiar one. His editorial look—the one where he decided how much to tell her and how much to keep a secret.
Megan was tired of people trying to protect her, treating her like a child. She’d been right there with her mom and dad two months ago when that man, that creep, that sonofabitch who murdered her grams, she’d been there—hell, she’d been the one to help bring him down before the cops shot him.
She’d protected both of her parents that day. Not her mom, the one who carried a gun and whose job it was to keep people safe. People like her grams.
If Megan couldn’t trust her mom, the woman who’d saved so many innocent victims, who’d stopped so many bad guys, if she couldn’t trust her to keep her family safe, then who could she trust?
No one. That’s who. She only had herself. Fine. Whatever. She could deal with that.
She tightened her arms wrapped around her knees. “You have no clue what Mom was doing today.”
Her father turned to glare at her. “Don’t you use that tone of voice with me, young lady.”
“I’m just telling you the truth.” She straightened her legs and sat up straight. They stopped at a red light and she took the opportunity to pull her phone out. “Look. This is Mom’s so-called desk duty. She lied. To both of us.”
For a psychologist her dad had a piss-poor poker face. He watched the video of the crazy motorcycle dude crashing into two men then snatching up a pregnant woman and her mom driving after him—off the side of a hill!
Frustration, fear, and anger all took a turn but finally he just looked sad. Disappointed. The look Megan dreaded ever being on the receiving end of.
“She had no choice,” he said, facing forward as the light turned green. “That pregnant girl could have been hurt.”
“She always has a choice,” Megan interrupted before he could tell her—again—how important Mom’s job was, how she did what she did to save lives. What about their lives? What about Mom’s? “Isn’t that what you’re both always telling me? To think things through, make good decisions.”
His mouth twisted at that, ring finger drummed against the steering wheel. Wow, he really was pissed off this time. Megan leaned back again, satisfied that her dad finally saw how out of control her mom
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