There’s an old touch of defiance in the lift of her chin when her eyes refocus on me. “You’re trying to hurt her, and I’m trying not to.”
Laura’s lip is still trembling and mine is far from steady. What does she think I do every Saturday when she’s up here hiding behind her closed door? If anyone is hurting Mom, intentionally or otherwise, it’s not me. But I can’t say that, not when this is the most she’s opened up to me in a year. “You know there’s one thing you could do that would make her truly happy...”
She backs away a step, blood rushing to her cheeks.
“You could start small, maybe just write him a lett—”
“Hey, so my mom—Oh. Hi.” Maggie swings into my room only to draw up short when she spots Laura and takes in her blotchy face. “I passed your mom running when I came up the driveway and she told me to just let myself in.” She glances back and forth between Laura and me. “Should I maybe wait for you downstairs?”
“Just for a minute,” I say, at the same time Laura shakes her head.
“No, we’re done.” She turns to slip past Maggie out into the hall.
“Laura, wait.” I catch Maggie on the arm as I hurry after my sister. “I’ll be right back.”
“Yeah, go. I’ll just snoop around in your room while I wait.”
I come to a halt in my hallway, halfway between my room and Maggie and halfway between Laura and her room. I want to go after my sister so badly, but I can’t leave Maggie alone in my room. There are way too many things she might see and too many questions she might ask. I don’t even like having her in the house if I can help it, which usually I can. My face scrunches as Laura slams her door a second later.
“Pissy much,” Maggie says from behind me.
“Um,” I say, still staring at Laura’s closed door with a heart so heavy that it feels impossible for it to still beat.
“Hey, sorry about just showing up. My mom wanted to drop me off at the last minute so she could meet your mom. Guess I should have called first.”
“Our moms are outside talking?” My leaden heart tries to explode in my chest and I spin to face her. “Right now?”
Maggie frowns. “Well, no. They basically just said hi, nice to meet you, that kind of thing. My mom didn’t want to hold up yours in the middle of a run.” Her frown deepens. “Why?”
My lungs exhale in relief. “It’s just that she doesn’t like it when I spring people on her.”
Maggie’s eyebrows lift instead of narrowing. “Ohhh. Is that where you get it from—I mean, is your mom the same about people and places like you?”
My heart rate is still much too high, so I only nod and head back into my room, stopping to pick up the towel I dropped.
“She did seem a little—” Maggie shrugs. “Not rude or anything, but five minutes with my mom and you know her entire life history. Yours was more on the reserved side. I just thought she was out of breath, but this makes more sense. Anyway, my mom didn’t notice anything—Oh wow. This is beautiful!” She heads straight for my wildflower inlaid sleigh bed.
“My dad made it for me. Everything that’s wood in here is him.”
Maggie does a full spin, her eyes going wider with every second. “So he’s like the Michelangelo of furniture. I mean look at these nightstands. They look like actual giant sunflowers. Does he hand carve everything?”
“Those he did, but he uses power tools mostly. Didn’t you hear him down in the basement when you came in?”
She nods absently, still looking at my nightstands. “I’m glad you didn’t paint them.”
My half shudder in response is automatic. “My dad would sooner put a nail through his hand than paint good wood.”
Her mouth lifts on one side and she plops onto the bed beside me. “Well, it’s amazing.” She gestures around my room. “Are your brother’s and sister’s rooms like this too?”
I hesitate at the reference to Jason, and because I don’t want to widen the already massive gulf between our two fathers. “Not the same, but he made everything.”
She stands. “Can I see? I know you and your sister were having a moment, but what about your brother’s room?”
I stay sitting. “Um, maybe later. I don’t want to push with Laura right now, and I don’t really think Jason would love me bringing people into his room when he’s not here.”
“People?” Maggie asks with mock effrontery. “Since when am I people?”
“I just meant—”
