October Breezes by Maria Rachel Hooley Page B

for his indifference, but even though you have one parent who doesn't give you the time of day, you also have one, me, who loved you before you were born. That love has only grown each day we’ve been together.” She rested her head atop mine and gently stroked my hair, brushing through the length of it.
    When I finaly puled away, I saw that she, too, had tears shining as they spiled down her face.
    “I felt so stupid sitting in that theater, watching him cuddle those little girls, and I wanted to know what was wrong with me.
    How was I defective? Why didn’t he love me like that?”
    “It wasn’t about you, Skye. It was about timing. If your father had married that girl when he married me and she’d gotten pregnant, he would have left her like he left us.”
    I thought about what she’d said, and it made sense; the trouble was, I based these ilogical feelings on things my dad had done. I was about to tel her she was right when my stomach growled. “Oops,” I said, grinning.

    “Wel,” she laughed, “that brings me to the reason I came up. Warren and I were about to go to dinner, and we wondered if you wanted to go.” I looked at my reflection and started to decline, but my mother stopped me. “Just wash your face and put on make-up. No one wil know you’ve been crying.”
    “Okay.” I sat up, and she put her arm around me.
    “I know it’s rough, but it gets easier.”
    I laid my head against hers. “I hope so.
    Mom left so I could get ready. After I’d dressed, I headed downstairs and saw she and Warren sat on the couch, leaning close as they spoke softly. Warren offered a smile, “How are you, Skye?”
    I shrugged and said, “Fine,” having lost the energy to fight.
    Instead, I'd keep him at a safe distance so he could never get close.
    Maybe Mom believed he wouldn’t hurt either of us, but now more than ever, I couldn’t afford that chance.
    “Are you ready to get something to eat?” he asked, holding out my coat. “We thought Red Lobster sounded good. That al right?”
    “Sure.” I started to grab the coat, but instead he held it open, alowing me to slip my arms into it.
    Mom and Warren chatted the whole way, and more than once each teased the other. The love shimmering in her eyes transformed her whole face. A smile danced on her lips. She appeared younger—so placid, so sure of al the possibilities spread in front of her through Warren that nothing could shake her joy.
    Although Red Lobster usualy had a line, we were seated immediately, probably because it was later than the usual meal time.
    Warren looked over menus, and Mom puled out her reading glasses. They discussed which entrée appeared most appealing.
    “I realy like the shrimp scampi,” Warren said, leaning back in his chair. He settled one hand atop my mom's.
    “Yeah, that does look good,” Mom replied, "but I’m more partial to the popcorn shrimp or maybe even the ones with the lemon-pepper batter.”
    The porter brought the wine Warren had ordered and then set the bottle and two glasses in front of them. Warren uncorked the bottle, filed mom's glass, and then poured his own. They sat together, grinning like children. Suddenly a hand settled on my left shoulder and squeezed. I turned.
    “Hey, Beautiful.” Kelin leaned over me, his blonde hair haloing his head. He wore his letter jacket, water droplets seeping off the leather sleeves. He smiled, his blue eyes penetrating me to the core. He gently caressed my shoulder before nodding toward Warren. “Is that your dad?”
    Warren and Mom glanced at each other, and I knew we al had found ourselves in uncharted water. Shaking my head, I scrambled for an explanation. "He’s a good friend.” I turned to Warren. “Kelin, this is Warren Jacobs and my mom, Helen.
    Kelin shook Warren’s hand. “Nice to meet you, sir.
    Sorry about the misunderstanding.”
    “That’s al right,” Warren said. He gestured to an empty seat. “Would you like to join us? We haven't