“There’s not much to tell. I grew up in foster care. Moved around a lot. Never stayed anywhere long enough to call it home.”
“No parents? No siblings?”
“My mother left me at a fire station when I was three days old. I don’t know anything about my father.” I’ve told this story so many times it doesn’t hurt anymore. Or at least, I’ve convinced myself it doesn’t. “I aged out of the system at eighteen. Been on my own ever since.”
Mother Lenora is quiet for a long moment. Then shereaches over and takes my hands, flour and all, holding them close.
“Look at me, sweet girl.”
I look up. Her eyes are fierce, burning with an intensity that takes me by surprise.
“You have family now,” she says. “This clan. This cabin. Everyone you’ll meet tonight. They’re yours. We’re yours.” She squeezes my hands. “You belong here, Imani. Don’t ever doubt that.”
My eyes are burning. I blink rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything.” She releases my hands and turns to rummage in a drawer behind her. “But you do have to accept this.”
She pulls out a small wooden box, worn with age, and opens it. Inside, nestled on faded velvet, is a silver bracelet. Delicate chain links connected by tiny charms shaped like bear claws.
“Every mated woman in Ironwood wears one,” she says, lifting it from the box. “My mother gave me mine when I mated Tolin’s father. Her mother gave her one when she mated. It goes back generations.”
“Mother Lenora, I can’t?—“
“You can and you will.” She takes my wrist and clasps the bracelet around it. The silver is warm from being stored near the stove, and the little bear claws catch the light as I move my arm. “You’re family now, Imani. This is what family does.”
The tears spill over. I can’t stop them. Years of loneliness, years of wanting, years of believing I would never have this, and now here I am standing in a warm kitchen with flour on my hands and a mother’s bracelet on my wrist.
Mother Lenora pulls me into a hug, and I let myself cryagainst her shoulder. She doesn’t say anything, just holds me, one hand stroking my hair like I’m a child who needs comforting.
Maybe I am. Maybe I always have been.
When I finally pull back, wiping my eyes, she’s smiling.
“Now,” she says briskly, handing me a dish towel. “Enough of that. We have a ceremony to prepare for and you’re going to ruin my pecan rolls with all that salt water.”
I laugh, wet and shaky, and get back to work.
A knock at the door interrupts us an hour later. Mother Lenora calls out “Come in!” without looking up from the pot she’s stirring.
Ronan steps inside, ducking his head under the doorframe. His eyes sweep the room, taking in the domestic scene, lingering for a moment on me working beside his mother.
“Smells good,” he says.
“Sit down.” Mother Lenora points to the chair at the kitchen table. “You’re staying for dinner before the ceremony.”
It’s not a question.
Ronan sits. Tolin comes in from outside a moment later, stamping snow off his boots, and takes the chair beside his brother. For a moment it’s awkward. The two of them side by side at their mother’s table.
Then I look up from the vegetables I’m chopping and smileat Ronan.
“Do you want to help?” I ask.
Ronan blinks, clearly not expecting the invitation. “I don’t cook.”
“Neither did Tolin until recently. You can learn.”
Mother Lenora laughs. Ronan looks at Tolin like he’s asking for help. Tolin just shrugs.
