She believed she could reach beyond the veil. Her rituals with the moon and the teas, especially the ones she imported before creating her subscription jars, mattered. They infused healing properties into the teas.
They had to matter. Otherwise, what good was she?
She didn’t have the energy to go to her knitting room and work. Sometimes it was the only way to soothe the demons raging within her.
At least she’d taught her daughter to knit. She pulled her knees to her chest and rocked back and forth, soothing the panic coursing through her. The heated, breathless, desperate panic that still caught her by the throat after the nightmare. The one in which she was a teenager, back in a new Chrysler, fighting for her life. Losing her innocence.
The front door opened, and she fought a scream.
“Mom?” Laurel rushed toward her, dropping to her knees. “Mom?” She smoothed back Deidre’s blond hair from her sweaty brow. “Hey, there.” Her voice calmed and her eyes, the dual-colored eyes that sometimes reminded Deidre of the worst night of her life, softened. “Panic attack?”
Deidre gulped. How wrong was this? Her daughter was soothing her. “Yes. I’m sorry.” She couldn’t help the tears that pricked the back of her eyes.
Laurel gently helped her off the floor and into a comfortable chair at the table. “Let me get you some tea. That will help.” She turned back and started a kettle. “There are keys in your hand. Were you coming to get me?”
Deidre dropped the keys on the table. “I wanted to get you. Leaving you alone like that. I’m so sorry.”
As the kettle heated, Laurel turned around to face her, today wearing a shirt too large for her small body. A man’s shirt. “Mom. I’m a trained FBI agent.”
Deidre looked at the lumpy bruise on her daughter’s face. “One who’s in danger. In your text, you didn’t tell me you were injured in the wreck last night. I figured you blew a tire or something.”
“I’m fine,” Laurel said. “I can handle danger. They kind of train you for it, actually.” She smiled, her gaze searching.
Sometimes, when her daughter looked at her like that, Deidre wanted to run. To hide. “I’m sorry you had to stay with that man all night.”
A blush colored Laurel’s high cheekbones. “I’m not. It was a good night.” She wiggled her eyebrows.
Humor caught Deidre unaware. “Laurel,” she chided, although her heart lifted. It was good that her daughter had a healthy approach to sex. She should be grateful about that. “For goodness sake.”
Laurel took a deep breath. “Mom? We have to talk about this. I thought you were seeing a counsellor?”
“I’ve seen different counsellors for thirty years,” Deidre said. “Anxiety and panic attacks are a manageable part of my life.”
The kettle whistled, and Laurel turned to pour two cups of Moon’s Gifts. “Your trigger is men and my being alone with them.” She turned and brought the cups to the table. “I feel like you haven’t really told me where this comes from. Is it because of who my father was? Do you actually remember?”
Deidre’s throat closed. She took the mug and drank, even though the tea was still too hot. Her daughter was a profiler, and she was brilliant. Even so, Deidre couldn’t help but continue the lie. “Sorry, honey. I don’t remember anything from that time after my parents died and I ran away to Seattle. Drugs are bad for you, as you know.”
Laurel sighed. “I know, but I do wonder about my eyes and hair. Both red hair and heterochromia tend to be hereditary. Are you sure you don’t remember the man?”
Deidre shook her head. “I think I’d remember that, but I don’t. It was a terribly rough time, and it’s all a blur.” She reached over and patted Laurel’s hand. “But I wouldn’t trade away any of it because I got you.” She rubbed her mouth. “Before I forget, Uncle Blake left a farm truck out for you to use while your SUV is getting fixed. My truck needs to be serviced, but I’ll take care of that just in case. It’s only responsible, even though I don’t drive anywhere.”
Laurel studied her, no doubt seeing beyond the facade. “All right, but if you ever need to talk about that time before I was born, I’m here. There’s nothing you could say that would hurt me.”
That’s what her daughter thought.
Laurel took a sip of her tea. “Sometimes I wonder who I’d be without you.”
Deidre reached over and held her hand. “What do you mean?”
“Without you, I don’t know if I’d understand what love feels like. How to find it in other people. What it’s like to have family and security, no matter how strange I might seem to others.” She flipped her hand around and tangled her fingers with her mom’s. “You’re all-natural love, and I’ve been surrounded by it my whole life. Even when I went to college so young, it was you and me. You came with me, and I was never alone.”
“Of course you were never alone.” Her mom squeezed her hand. “You’re my daughter. I wouldn’t let you go to college all by yourself.” She hesitated. “Where is this coming from?”
Laurel shrugged. “This case and some of the people I’ve met pursuing it. I know I don’t say it much, but I love you. Without you, I’d be a different person. One neither of us would like.”
“Oh, sweetie. That’s not true. You’d be likable no matter what.” Deidre leaned over and gave her a half hug. “I love you, too. You’d be a good person even without me. Don’t ever forget that.” It really was time to let go of the past and move on to the future. She straightened her shoulders. “I think I’ll start driving that truck.”
Laurel’s eyebrows rose. “Well. Good.” Then she tilted her head and studied Deidre again.
