“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming!” I admonish gently as I open the door.
“Well maybe if you answered our calls, we might have been able to! You do know how to worry a mother, darling,” she says as she turns around.
Her bright smile fades as she sees me. The color drains from her face. Concerned, I glance at father but he is similarly aghast. What is wrong?
Oh gosh, I completely forgot about my black eye! What on earth am I going to say? Harry’s night terrors and his vulnerabilities are far too intimate to share. They are not my secrets to give. I’m going to have to think of something.
“I… um… walked into a door,” I say lamely.
I’m not sure I would believe me, and I certainly haven’t convinced my parents, judging by their expressions. Just fabulous. Now my parents think that Harry is beating me. They are going to try to take me home with them and I’ve unleashed a whole new drama into my life that I am going to have to deal with.
What else is going to go wrong?
“Come sit down and let me pour the tea!” exclaims Mother.
Sheepishly, I obey her and let them both fuss over me for a minute. It does feel lovely and I do love attention.
“We miss you, Son. Why don’t you come home with us for the weekend?” says Father.
I put down my cup of tea and look them both steadily in the eye.
“I’m fine. It was a genuine accident.”
They exchange glances before turning back to me. They look slightly mollified but not entirely convinced.
“My cycle hasn’t settled yet, so I can’t go far, anyway.” I add.
The crestfallen look on my father’s face is too much to bear, so I look away.
“If there was anything we could help with, you would tell us? Wouldn’t you, my dear?” asks my mother softly.
“Of course!” I answer with a bright smile. “Now tell me how everything is at home, have you been able to fix the roof?”
My aim at distraction is probably terrible and blatant, but it is worth a try. I look at them hopefully and then realize with a sinking heart that it was absolutely the wrong thing to say. Both their faces fall and they look devastated. I can just tell they are thinking that they sold their youngest son to an abusive husband so that they could clear their debts and fix the leaking roof.
It’s not what I meant at all. Now what do I do?
“Oh, I made a new friend! Harry’s brother, Jem. He is lovely!”
Mother’s brow scrunches in confusion. “Sothbridge has a brother?”
Now would be a perfect time for the ground to open up and swallow me whole. Or just give me a spade so I can dig this hole for myself faster. What a disaster! My parents do not need to know that I am living with a disgraced vessel and I have absolutely no right to share Jem’s past with them, especially just to make them feel better about the situation.
“Er… yes… he is a vessel and doesn’t partake in society.” As backpedals go, it has to be one of the worst ones ever. Nobody chooses to not partake in society.
Mother’s nostrils flare like a bloodhound catching a scent. “Tell me everything.”
My heart sinks and I take a cup of tea to buy some precious time. How on earth am I going to get out of this one?
Chapter seventeen
Irolloverinbed again. I can’t sleep. I can’t even get comfortable. I should be exhausted after dealing with my parents all afternoon. It’s a miracle I ever got them to leave, though I am now bound in a promise to call them every day. It’s going to make me homesick, and it’s going to be awful lying to them every day, but it’s worth it if it stops them from fretting. And I won’t be completely lying, it’s not like my marriage is the worst marriage of all time. There is just some choppy waters to navigate.
Ugh! Now I am too hot. A minute ago I was too cold. Kicking the covers off as if they are personally responsible for everything, doesn’t make me feel any better. Is there anything that will?
A wave of dizziness washes over me and with it comes realization. I am ripe. So very full of magic that I have no idea how I missed it.
I bite my bottom lip in uncertainty. It’s the middle of the night. Do I go to Harry now, or try to ride it out until morning? The proper thing is to go to him. I know that much. But the thought of waking him up feels uncomfortable. Will he have to throw on a robe to answer the door, because he sleeps naked? Will his golden hair be all sleep tousled? Will he be happy to see me?
