Mom was home when I stomped in the kitchen door, but it didn't mean she was available. Every time I tried to talk to her she was hauled off by some conversation in her head or another so I finally gave up and retreated to my room to sulk.
When she did reach out at last, I slapped her away, too wrapped up in my own pissiness to care if I hurt her feelings.
We're meeting tonight, she sent. Be ready at dark.
It shook me loose from my funk. Already? Well really, what did I think? That Mom would sit on her hands over this? I slid from the bed and rummaged in my closet for my robe, just in case.
I did my best to stay out of her way, but help her at the same time. I know she forgave me for my bad humor because when I came back downstairs with my rumpled cloak in my arms she pulled herself fre
