Not for the first time, I was baffled and touched in equal measure by how protective he was of me.
“I’ll be fine,” I assured him, opening the door. “I won’t be long.” I shut the door as quietly as I could behind me and made my way to the trailer.
My soft knock was met with the patter of feet. The door opened cautiously and a set of huge brown eyes peered up at me.
I kneeled down. “Max.” I grinned, relieved I’d found them.
The door swung open further. “Aunt Jilly!” he exclaimed. Despite not being close with my sister I’d done everything I could to stay in my niece and nephew’s lives. I wrapped him in an embrace, my gaze landing on Emmie, who sat watching television on the couch. “Hi, sweet girl.” I smiled at her as I held Max’s hand, stepping further into the small room. “Can I have a hug?” I asked, not wanting to assume.
After a moment she nodded once and stood up to wrap her thin arms around my neck.
Despite being from different fathers they shared many of the same characteristics, including dark hair and luminous dark eyes. Both kids had always been far too serious for my liking—as though the weight of the world rested on their shoulders. I longed to see the playful side I knew had to dwell just under the surface.
“Is your mom here?” I asked, looking around the small, dim space. The curtains were all pulled shut. It smelled a bit musty and like the garbage needed to be taken out, but was otherwise fairly well kept.
“She’s asleep,” Max replied.
At 1:00 p.m.?
I tried to hide my concern and nodded. “Okay, I’m going to go talk to her and then I was hoping maybe we could spend some time together.” I smiled.
They both nodded, watching with matching expressions of unease as I stepped down the short hall in search of my sister.
“Jan?” I whispered, peering into her dark bedroom.
“Hmm?” she mumbled. After a moment she stirred, sitting up and looking at me in sleepy confusion. “Jill?”
I nodded, stepping into the room and sitting on the edge of her bed.
“What are you doing here?”
Her question irritated me but I bit the feeling back, fighting for an even tone. “Did you know Gran died?”
She flopped back on the bed. “Yeah, the home called.”
With her dismissive tone, my patience began to unravel. “Why haven’t you called me back?” I demanded.
“I meant to.” She sighed. “I’ve been working nights and I’ve been so tired.”
That explained sleeping in the middle of the day. I felt a small measure of relief.
“You and the kids okay?” I asked.
She narrowed her eyes. “We’re fine.”
“I’m just asking, Jan.” I sighed. She was so quick to be defensive, as though I was attacking her with even the simplest question.
“Why don’t I take the kids out for a few hours? We’ll let you sleep?”
“Fine,” she muttered.
“Maybe we can talk when we get back?” I asked hopefully.
“Yeah, sure,” she replied noncommittally.
I fought back my disappointment at her dismissive tone. “I’m here with a friend from home,” I explained, surprised how easily the term home slipped from my lips with regard to Hawthorne. It was home. “We’ll grab the boosters out of your car.”
“Fine,” she repeated. “The car’s not locked.”
