In their minds, I’m still a helpless preteen.
Inside the cabin, Mom puts on a pot of water to boil while I pack up the crafting supplies that litter half the table.
As she carries our mugs over, I can’t keep my mouth shut anymore.
“You came back.”
She smiles wide, but her eyes tense, as if she’s in pain.“Is that really so shocking?”
Even as she sets the tea down in front of me, I ignore it.
“It’s been almost a year since Minnie died.Plus all the time since you left.Did you ever visit?”
My mother, normally the bright star glittering at the center of whatever room she’s in, seems dim.She stares off to the side, eyes focused on nothing.
“No,” she murmurs.
“Well then”—I wrap my hands around the mug—“what changed your mind?”
Now, she looks at me.“I came for you.”
“Why?I mean, I know I got hurt, but it’s not like I’m bedridden.”
Mom studies me for a moment, and I shift in my seat.As if I have something to hide.
But I don’t.
Idon’t.
“Abram called.”
“To tell you about the accident.”I already knew this.
“No.He called again, to talk about something else.”
My teeth clench, grinding down hard, as I imagine what he must’ve gone running to our mom about.
“No, sweetheart.Don’t be mad at him.He called because …” She hesitates, gaze flicking around the room.
This version of my mother is strange.She’s the most confident person I know.She never holds back.She lives life like it gave her lemons and she discovered that was her favorite fruit.
A quality I also admire in Warner.
Don’t think about him.
“He called me to ask more about The Dark Moon Riders.”
At the mention of Warner’s club, I can’t keep still anymore.What I said to him, what I did to us, is still too fresh.So, I stand.And I pace.
My ankle throbs with each step, but I deserve the pain.
“Did you tell him …”
“No.That’s not something your brothers need to know about.”
“It is if they keep trying to fight them!”The old floorboards creak under my agitated feet.“So?What new insights did you hand out?”Turns out, I’m still smarting from her keeping me in the dark.
“I didn’t.”She watches me move, and I feel like an injured field mouse avoiding the attention of a hawk.“I asked him to tell me whathe’dlearned.He told me about Warner.”
