Her voice is gentle, but there’s purpose behind it. I know that tone.
She leads me down the short hallway toward the laundry room, where the door to the back porch sits half open. Cold winter air slips in through the screen, bringing with it the faint smell of damp leaves and wood smoke from somewhere nearby.
The small room is quieter than the kitchen. The hum of the dryer fills the space. My mother closes the door behind us.
Up close, the emotion in her eyes is clearer now. The joy is still there, but concern joins it now, along with the careful thought of a woman who has spent most of her life worrying about her children.
She reaches out and smooths a piece of hair away from my forehead, the way she did when I was little. “You look tired.”
“I am.”
She studies my face, her hand resting lightly on my cheek. “I’m very happy for you,” she murmurs.
“I know, Mom.”
“And I meant what I said in there.” Her fingers curl briefly around mine. “A baby is a blessing.”
I nod.
“But,” she continues quietly, “there are things I have to ask.”
There it is. I lean back against the counter, folding my arms loosely across my stomach. “You’re worried.”
“Yes.” She answers right away.
Her eyes move toward the hallway as if she can still see Kiren in the kitchen. “That man lives in a world I don’t fully understand,” she continues. “Danger seems to follow him around like the weather.”
I can’t argue with that. She watches my reaction carefully.
“And now there will be a child.” Her voice doesn’t rise. She isn’t accusing him of anything. She is simply stating the reality as she sees it. “A baby changes things, Rowan.”
“I know it does.”
She waits. The silence stretches long enough that I understand what she’s asking without her needing to say it outright.
Can a child be safe in Kiren’s world?
I look down at my hands for a moment. When I lift my eyes again, I meet hers directly.
“I love him.” There’s no uncertainty in my words.
“This isn’t just the aftermath of everything that happened?” she asks gently.
“No.” I shake my head once. “It started before that.”
“How long?”
“A while,” I admit.
Her eyebrows lift slightly. “You kept that quiet.”
“Yes. I was trying to understand how I felt and didn’t want to tell you before I knew.”
She exhales slowly, absorbing the information. “And you trust him?”
“With my life.” That answer leaves my mouth just as easily.
Her eyes soften at the certainty in my voice.
