Carol Reeves stood on my father's porch, soaked to the bone, asking for my dead mother.
"Carol." I found my voice. "It's Elena. Come inside."
She looked at me and something flickered. Confusion. Then a smile, hesitant and relieved.
"Elena. Oh, thank God." She stepped forward and nearly collapsed. I caught her, felt how cold she was through the wet cardigan.
"I've got you. Come on."
Dad appeared behind me. "Jesus. Carol?"
"Help me get her inside."
We guided her to the couch. She was shaking, muttering something I couldn't make out. Caleb grabbed towels from the bathroom while I knelt in front of her, trying to peel the soaked cardigan off her shoulders.
"There's a storm," Carol said, gripping my hands. "Matthew… I can't find Matthew. He was just here and now?—"
"He's okay. He's safe. I'm going to call him."
"You will?" She looked at me like I'd offered her the world.
"I promise."
Dad appeared in the doorway with a blanket. I took it, wrapped it around Carol's shoulders. Her teeth were chattering.
"I'll make tea," Dad said quietly, then disappeared into the kitchen.
Caleb stayed in the doorway, uncertain. I glanced at him, tried to communicate something—I'm okay, just give me a minute—and he nodded, stepped back into the dining room.
Carol's hands found mine again. She was staring at me, trying to place something.
"You're Margaret's girl."
My chest tightened. "Yeah. I am."
"Where is she? Margaret. Is she here?"
I couldn't speak for a second. My mother had been gone for years.
"She's not here right now," I managed.
"Oh." Carol looked around the room, confused. "I thought... I needed to talk to her. About the kids."
The kids. Me and Matt. She thought we were still teenagers.
"What about them?" I asked softly.
"They're so serious." Carol smiled, distant. "Your Elena and my Matthew. He talks about her all the time. Drives Bill crazy."
I felt tears prick my eyes but kept my voice steady. "Does he?"
"Oh yes. It's Elena this, Elena that." She laughed a little. "He's got it bad. I told Bill, I said, 'That's the girl he's going to marry.'"
I held her hand in mine, squeezed it.
"And Bill said I was getting ahead of myself, but a mother knows." She squeezed my hands back. "He's a good boy. My Matthew. You know that, don't you?"
"I know."
