“Oh, Stone. What on earth are you doing out and about?”
I watch the man walk away, wondering if I will ever see him again.
“Stone, please. Don’t be angry with me. I didn’t mean to leave you alone for so long,” she says, breaking me from my stupor just as the man turns the corner.
I don’t want to be mad at her, but anger is still here.
Mother crouches in front of me and sets a basket at her side.
“What did he give you?”
I glance down at the book and hide the envelope behind me in my waistband, so she does not see. Mother tries to pry the book from my lap, and my heart pounds in fear of what she may do with it. I snatch the book from her because it’s mine.
Mother’s shoulders fall. “You can’t be mad at me forever.”
I can, and it’s very simple, so I look away.
“I was just on my way back to you. I brought maple syrup gingerbread for tonight,” she says, and even though it’s my favorite, I shake my head. I’m angry at her for leaving me here alone for an entire day and night. I won’t be left alone in the tiny room again if she sees how I feel, with my turn of the head, my stillness, my silence.
“But you’ll love it,” she coos, pushing the basket closer. “Don’t be stubborn, Stone.” I still don’t move, and Mother sighs. “If I promise to next time think about bringing you”—at this, I look at her, and she narrows her eyes—“I’ll think about it,” she reiterates, “then will you at least forgive me?”
I set the book and sketchpad down on the bench and stand to hug her, but she grabs my shoulders and holds me back at a distance. Then she takes my wrists and pins my arms down at my sides, where they are safe. I was not thinking and reacted to an urge. And therefore, we stay like this until I am calm. Until my emotions disappear.
Mother smiles. “I think it’s time you learn to read.”
“Youwillcome back to me,”I said low, anger winding inside me. I had done it before, anddammit, I would do it again. I would do whatever it took to bring her back.
Silhouettes passed beneath the thread of blue moonlight. The tribal members were following me through the woods as the storm lit the sky above, their curious steps between rolls of thunder.
I turned to face them and flinched forward. “Leave us be!”
They froze, and I took another step toward them as a warning. They could not see what I was about to do.
“Turn back!”
The tribe scurried back to the village, where a fire had died in the distance, the storm smothering its smoke.
When I reached a clearing, I laid Mother across the forest floor. She looked enchanting in the way she lay with deathly serenity in the raging chaos of the storm. No pain, no worry, she looked content with leaving me alone.
Betrayal ripped through me as I tore off my gloves.
I looked up at the pelting, ice-tipped rain that felt like rocks hitting my skin, then pressed both palms against her chest.
Lightning struck a nearby tree, splitting it in two.
A branch crashed to the ground at my side, but this did not stop me.
My jaw clenched with desperation, and I pumped into her chest.
With it, thunder erupted, a deafening boom shaking my insides and catapulting through my bones.
A second pump, and I tasted salt from my tears as they slid into my mouth.
Trees screamed, branches thrashed, and the white-hot energy returned, this time visceral and looking for a taste of blood.
One last pump, and Mother’s back arched into my hand as she gasped for air.
CHAPTER 8
