Текст книги "Pushing the Limits"
Автор книги: Katie McGarry
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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 23 страниц)
Echo
The smell of acrylic paint tickled my nose the moment I walked into the gallery. Landscapes filled the canvases on the wall. A painting of long blade grass bending with the wind caught my eye. Earlier today, I’d exposed my arms. This afternoon, I was finding answers.
Nerves caused my blood to skip in my veins. The last time I visited this place, Aires was still alive and my mother was on her meds. Mom had chuckled when Aires told her he didn’t understand one of her paintings and he’d pulled my hair when I called him an idiot. He’d laughed when I smacked him in return. A weight pressed down on my lungs. Aires laughed. I should have hugged him then. I should have hugged him and never let go.
“Can I help you?” asked a female voice.
I plastered a smile on my face and turned. “Hi, Bridget.”
Bridget’s blue eyes widened. Her sleek midnight-black hair hung to her shoulders and angled her face. At six feet tall, she towered over me. As I always remembered her, she wore a chic black business suit. “Echo. My God, you’ve grown.”
“It happens.” I shifted from one foot to the next. “Do you have a few minutes?”
“For you, always. Would you like some water?”
“Sure.” She led the way to her office.
“What can I do for you?”
Now or never. “I’m hoping you can help me with two things.”
She handed me a bottled water and twisted the top off of hers. “Tell me number one.”
“You told me once that if I was ever interested in selling my paintings you wanted me to call you first. Does that offer still stand?”
Bridget licked her lips and sat. “Your mom showed me your sketches for years. I’ve been dying for this day. Did you bring anything for me to look at?”
I shook my head.
“Pick out your five favorite paintings and bring a full sketch pad for me to peruse tomorrow.” She narrowed her eyes. “You’re still in school, right?”
“I graduate next month.”
“Brilliant.” Her eyes glittered as if her mind had gone to a far-off place. She blinked back to life. “Two?”
“I want to find my mom.”
She lost the glitter and her smile fell. “Cassie doesn’t work here anymore. You know that.”
“Yeah, I do, but you were her best friend. I’m hoping you could at least tell me where she ended up. Maybe if she found another job, who hired her, or at least who called for references.”
Bridget took a long drink from her water. “Your mom was in a bad place for a very long time, Echo. What happened to you is a tragedy and she feels nothing but remorse.”
My heart beat faster. “You know what happened to me?”
“Yes.” Her long fingernails ripped at the label on the bottle. “And she said that you don’t.”
Adrenaline poured into my body. My foot tapped against the floor. “You still talk with her?”
“Yes.” The sound of the label tearing filled the silence.
I reached around and pulled an envelope from my back pocket. “Please just give this to her. She can decide how to proceed. Okay?”
She stared at my outstretched hand. “I know your dad liked to keep you in a glass ball so maybe you’re not aware of the restraining order.”
“I’m not interested in sending her to jail. I just want to see her.” I shook the letter in my hand and tried Mrs. Collins’s puppy dog eyes. “Please, Bridget.”
Bridget accepted the envelope. “I’m not promising anything. Do you understand?”
I nodded, too worked up to speak. Either I’d solved all my problems or I’d created a whole new set of them. It didn’t matter. I was done living like a coward. It was time to be strong.
NOAH
“How are you, Noah?” Mrs. Collins smiled when I waltzed into her office and sank into the chair.
“I’ve been better.”
That got her attention. “At least you’re being honest today. What brought that on?”
I shook my head, not able to answer. I’d heard a rumor that Luke had broken up with his girl of the week with the intention of asking Echo to prom. The bastard barely waited three weeks before going after my girl.
Shifting in my seat, I tried to erase the thought of Echo as my girl. We’d broken up and Isaiah was right, I’d done nothing to stop it. I wanted Echo to be happy and there was no way she could with a boyfriend who was busy raising two little boys. Isaiah said I should have made it her choice and to try talking with Echo again. I wanted Echo in my life, but in the end her life would be better without me.
Beth promised to ask around and find out whether Echo accepted Luke’s offer. Part of me hoped she said yes. I’d fucked up her Valentine’s Dance. She deserved a good prom.
“You’ll be happy to know the drug test the judge ordered came back negative.”
I shrugged. I hadn’t touched weed in months. “You expected a different result?”
She laughed. “I’ve met Beth.”
I laughed along with her. At least she called a spade a spade. For the past couple of weeks, Mrs. Collins had tried to dig at me, but I kept our topics of conversation stuck on my brothers. Sometimes we discussed the possibility of a future in college I’d never have.
“How are things going with Jacob?” After my visit to Legal Aid, Carrie and Joe found a cutthroat lawyer and rescinded my visitation privileges. Some bullshit about me using drugs and partying and being a bad influence on my brothers. Hence the drug test. Smart move on their part. Before Echo their claim wasn’t bullshit, but since her, it was.
“You know I can’t discuss private details, but I can tell you a story about this wonderful child named Jack who had night terrors for three years.”
My lips twitched. Mrs. Collins wasn’t so bad after all. “So how’s Jack?”
“Jack slept through an entire night without a nightmare this past week.”
The air caught in my chest, making it a little hard to breathe. “Thanks.”
“Thank you. I don’t believe Carrie and Joe would have figured out what tormented him if you hadn’t told me.”
We sat in silence for a few seconds. I stared down at my combat boots.
“I’d like to discuss what torments you.”
“Echo has been absent a lot.” She’d missed three days two weeks ago and two last week.
She raised her eyebrows. “Not exactly what I was going for, but I’ll bite. Yes, she has.”
The more I talked, the more I backed myself into a corner, but I didn’t care. Maybe I wanted to be cornered. “Is she okay?”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
“We don’t talk.” But I needed to. The part Isaiah had ordered for Aires’ car had finally arrived.
Mrs. Collins leaned forward on her desk. “What happened between the two of you?”
“We broke up,” I bit out. “I changed my mind. I don’t want to talk about Echo.” I looked away. Thinking about Echo hurt.
She stared at me with those puppy eyes and opened my file. “Then let’s discuss the upcoming ACT testing date.”
MRS. COLLINS BRIBED ME INTO registering for the ACT. If I took the test and applied to a couple of schools, then she’d help prep me for my meeting with the judge after graduation. She wasted her time. Any doubts I had about gaining custody of my brothers ended when Carrie and Joe stole my visitation.
Mrs. Collins’s cell phone rang, something that hadn’t happened since I’d known her. She answered it immediately and then turned to me. “I’ll see you next week. Please tell Echo that I’ll be with her in a few minutes.”
Our appointment had run over. I slid a hand over my face when I opened the door. For the past three weeks I’d busted ass out of this office to avoid being alone with Echo, and now…. Fuck.
She sat alone in the row of seats, skimming her iPhone, rocking her foot in her own silent rhythm. I shut the door behind me and leaned my back against it. “Isaiah has the part you need to finish Aires’ car.”
She flashed a surprised smile and her green eyes glittered. “You’re kidding? I assumed that after … you know … he wouldn’t want to …”
“Isaiah’s been a walking hard-on since he saw that car. Besides, I promised I’d help you fix it.” Part of my heart soared from seeing her happy; the other part drowned in misery. “He said he’d come by this weekend and finish it.”
“This weekend?” Echo hopped out of the seat. “Isaiah is going to fix my brother’s car this weekend? Oh. My. God!” She placed a hand over her mouth. “That is amazing!”
She launched herself at me. I closed my eyes the moment her arms slipped around my neck. I slid my hands to familiar places and reveled in her delicious smell. For three weeks I’d felt like a puzzle with missing pieces. Her body fit perfectly into mine, making me feel whole again. “I’ve missed you.”
I swore Echo clutched me tighter before stepping back. “I’m sorry. That was totally inappropriate.”
Begrudgingly I let go, chuckling. “I’m all about inappropriate.”
Her laughter healed and stung at the same time. “Yeah, you are.” She bit her lip and my smile grew when her eyes wandered down then back up my body. Echo blinked. “How are things going with your brothers?”
I motioned with my chin toward the chairs and we sat next to each other. Her knee and shoulder barely brushed against me and I wished more than anything that I could run my fingers through her hair. “The judge set a date to hear me out after graduation. Mrs. Collins has been prepping me.”
“That is awesome!”
“Yeah.” I forced optimism into my voice.
Her cheeks fell, as did her joy. “What’s wrong?”
“Carrie and Joe hired a lawyer and I lost visitation.”
Echo placed her delicate hand over mine. “Oh, Noah. I am so sorry. Have you seen them at all?”
I’d spent countless hours on the couch in the basement, staring at the ceiling wondering what she was doing. Her laughter, her smile, the feel of her body next to mine, and the regret that I let her walk away too easily haunted me. Taking the risk, I entwined my fingers with hers. Odds were I’d never get the chance to be this close again. “No, Mrs. Collins convinced me the best thing to do is to keep my distance and follow the letter of the law.”
“Wow, Mrs. Collins is a freaking miracle worker. Dangerous Noah Hutchins on the straight and narrow. If you don’t watch out she’ll ruin your rep with the girls.” Echo waggled her eyebrows.
I lowered my voice. “Not that it matters. I only care what one girl thinks about me.”
She relaxed her fingers into mine and stroked her thumb over my skin. “With Mrs. Collins on your side, you’ll get them back.”
Minutes into being alone together, we fell into each other again, like no time had passed. I could blame her for ending us, but in the end, I agreed with her decision. “How about you, Echo? Did you find your answers?”
Echo let her hair fall forward as her knee bounced. “No.”
If I continued to disregard breakup rules, I might as well go all the way. I pushed her curls behind her shoulder and let my fingers linger longer than needed so I could enjoy the silky feel. “Don’t hide from me, baby. We’ve been through too much for that.”
Echo leaned into me, placing her head on my shoulder and letting me wrap an arm around her. “I’ve missed you, too, Noah. I’m tired of ignoring you.”
“Then don’t.” Ignoring her hurt like hell. Acknowledging her had to be better.
“We’re not exactly the friends type.” As if to prove her point, she tilted her head up. Echo’s warm breath caressed my neck, causing my body to tingle with the thought of kissing her.
I swallowed, trying to shut out the bittersweet memories of our last night together. “Where’ve you been? It kills me when you’re not at school.”
“A little bit of everywhere. I went to an art gallery and the curator showed some interest in my work and sold my first piece two days later. Since then, I’ve been traveling around to different galleries, hawking my wares.”
“That’s awesome, Echo.” I absently stroked her shoulder. Part of me was thrilled for her; another part was upset she’d made such big leaps without me. “Sounds like you’re fitting into your future perfectly.” No custody battles, flipping burgers or single parenthood in her future. “Where did you decide to go to school?”
“I don’t know if I’m going to school.”
Shock jolted my system and I inched away to make sure I understood. “What the fuck do you mean you don’t know? You’ve got colleges falling all over you and you don’t fucking know if you want to go to school?”
My damned little siren laughed at me. “I see your language has improved.”
Poof—like magic, the anger disappeared. Anger Mrs. Collins would love to analyze. Guess her scheme to get me thinking about my future worked. I pulled Echo back into me. “If you’re not going to school, then what are your plans?”
“I’ve got paintings and drawings in a handful of different galleries in this and surrounding states. I’m not going to be rich, but I make a little bit with every painting I sell. I’m considering putting college off for a year or two and traveling cross-country, hopping from gallery to gallery.”
Damn if her whole world wasn’t changing. “And your dad’s okay with this?”
“Not his call to make.” Fury crept out behind her light tone. Maybe some things hadn’t changed. “I don’t want to live with him and Ashley anymore. Selling my paintings—it’s my way out. I don’t want to stare at the walls and think of my mother. I don’t want to sit in my room and think of all the nights Aires used to stay up talking to me. I don’t want every moment of my life filled with reminders of a life I will never get back.”
Normal. We both craved it and neither one of us would ever experience it again. She had hoped learning the truth of what happened between her and her mother would solve her problems and I had promised to help. “I feel like a dick. We made a deal and I left you hanging. I’m not that guy who goes back on his word. What can I do to help you get to the truth?”
Echo’s chest rose with her breath then deflated when she exhaled. Sensing our moment ending, I nuzzled her hair, savoring her scent. She patted my knee and broke away. “Nothing. There’s nothing you can do.”
She crossed the room and leaned against the counter. “I’ve tried hypnosis several times and I remember nothing more. I think it’s time that I move on. Ashley’s due in a couple of weeks. Dad’s ready to complete his replacement family. As soon as I graduate, this part of my life will be over. I’m okay with not knowing what happened.” Her words sounded pretty, but I knew her better. She’d blinked three times in a row.
Mrs. Collins opened her door. “So sorry, Echo, but I had an emergency….” Her eyes fell on me then flickered to Echo. I shook my head when her lips twitched up. “You can come in whenever you’re ready.” Without waiting for a reply, she shut the door.
“Guess I should go in.” Echo walked back to the chair beside me and picked up her pack.
I stood as she straightened and snaked my arms around her, pulling her close to me, savoring the feel of every delicate curve. For three weeks, I spent my time convincing myself that our breakup was the right choice. But being this close to her, hearing her laugh, listening to her voice, I knew I had been telling myself lies.
Her eyes widened when I lowered my head to hers. “It doesn’t have to be this way. We can find a way to make us work.”
She tilted her head and licked her lips, whispering through shallow breaths, “You’re not playing fair.”
“No, I’m not.” Echo thought too much. I threaded my fingers into her hair and kissed her, leaving her no opportunity to think about what we were doing. I wanted her to feel what I felt. To revel in the pull, the attraction. Dammit, I wanted her to undeniably love me.
Her pack hit the floor with a resounding thud and her magical fingers explored my back, neck and head. Echo’s tongue danced manically with mine, hungry and excited.
Her muscles stiffened when her mind caught up. I held her tighter to me, refusing to let her leave so easily again. Echo pulled her lips away, but was unable to step back from my body. “We can’t, Noah.”
“Why not?” I shook her without meaning to, but if it snapped something into place, I’d shake her again.
“Because everything has changed. Because nothing has changed. You have a family to save. I …” She looked away, shaking her head. “I can’t live here anymore. When I leave town, I can sleep. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I did. I understood all too well, as much as I hated it. This was why we ignored each other. When she walked away the first time, my damn heart ruptured and I swore I’d never let it happen again. Like an idiot, here I was setting off explosives.
Both of my hands wove into her hair again and clutched at the soft curls. No matter how I tightened my grip, the strands kept falling from my fingers, a shower of water from the sky. I rested my forehead against hers. “I want you to be happy.”
“You, too,” she whispered. I let go of her and left the main office. When I first connected with Echo, I’d promised her I would help her find her answers. I was a man of my word and Echo would soon know that.
Echo
Nerves took dominion over my body and I concentrated on not peeing my pants. My bladder shrank to twelve sizes smaller than normal and sweat soaked the armpits of my cotton short-sleeved shirt. I was sure I looked excellent.
A slimy cold boa constrictor wrapped around my heart and squeezed—the scars. I wore short sleeves most of the time now and was getting better at not obsessing about my arms … until someone stared, anyway. Sure, she knew about them, but seeing them could be difficult. I sighed heavily as I parked under the large oak trees. Too late to head home and change clothes now.
She stood by Aires’ grave. I kept my eyes to the ground and counted each step from the car. Somewhere between steps three and five, adrenaline began tickling my bloodstream, making me feel like a balloon floating away. The April Saturday was warm, but my skin felt clammy.
I’d asked to see her, proving I’d officially lost my freaking mind. Tucking my hair behind my ear, I stopped. Aires’ grave lay between us. My mother on one side and me on the other.
“Echo,” she whispered. Tears glistened in her green eyes and she took a step toward me.
My heart rammed through my rib cage and I took an immediate step back. For a second, I considered running and struggled hard to remain where I stood.
Mom retreated and put her palms in the air in a gesture of peace. “I just want to hug you.”
I considered her request for a brief moment. Hugging my mom should be natural, an automatic reaction. I swallowed, shoving my hands in my back pockets. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
She nodded weakly and glanced at Aires’ tombstone. “I miss him.”
“I do, too.”
All of my memories of my mother didn’t fit the woman before me. I remembered her as a youthful beauty. Now she rivaled my father. Crow’s-feet were embedded around her eyes and lines framed the sides of her mouth. Instead of the naturally wild, curly red hair I remembered, she wore it flat-iron straight.
During her highs, my mother had appeared to walk on air. In her lows, she clung to the ground of the earth. Standing in front of me, she was neither high nor low. She just was.
She seemed almost normal. Like any other aging woman grieving at a cemetery. In this moment my mom wasn’t some out-of-control superwoman or a dangerous foe. She was just a woman, human, almost relatable.
Relatable or not, every instinct inside of me screamed to run. My throat swelled and I fought the compulsion to dry heave. My options were faint or sit. “Do you mind sitting down? Because I need to.”
My mother gave a brief smile and nodded while she sat. “Do you remember when I taught you and Aires to make bracelets and necklaces out of clover?” She picked a few of the small white flowers and knotted them together. “You used to love wearing them as tiaras in your hair.”
“Yeah,” was my only answer. Mom enjoyed the feel of the grass on her bare feet so she never forced Aires or me to wear shoes. The three of us loved being outside. She continued to weave the clover into a single strand as the awkwardness grew.
“Thanks for texting me back. Which letter did you get?” I’d purposely visited art galleries where my mother had once sold her paintings, leaving a letter for her at each one.
“All of them. It was Bridget, though, who convinced me to come.”
A quick spark of pain pricked my stomach. My letter hadn’t been enough to convince her?
“Do you come to visit Aires often?” I asked.
Her hands stilled. “No. I don’t like the thought of my baby in the ground.”
I hadn’t meant to upset her, but Resthaven had seemed safe. If someone spotted us together then we could say we just happened to stop by at the same time. No one could accuse her of breaking the restraining order.
I should just ask her about that night and leave, but watching her, seeing her … I realized I had so many more questions. “Why didn’t you call me back over Christmas?”
Last December, the grief of losing Aires became so unbearable that I called her. I’d left a message, giving her the number to my cell, to the landline. I’d told her what times to call. I never heard back. Then of course, in January, Dad changed the number to the landline, then my cell in February.
“I was having a rough time, Echo. I needed to focus on myself,” she said simply and without apology.
“But I needed you. I told you that, right?” At least I thought I had left it in the message.
“You did.” She continued to link one clover to another. “You’ve grown into a beautiful young woman.”
“Except for the scars.” I bit my tongue the moment the comment slid out. Mom stayed silent and my foot rocked back and forth. I yanked a large blade of grass from the ground and methodically peeled it apart. “I don’t know much about the restraining order. Surely it’s gotta end soon.”
Maybe the hole in my heart wouldn’t feel so huge if I could see Mom every now and then.
“Bridget showed me your artwork,” Mom said, ignoring me again. “You’re extremely talented. What art schools did you apply to?”
I paused, waiting for Mom to lift her head so I could look into her eyes. Was she evading me? A warm breeze blew through the cemetery. The length of Aires’ coffin separated us, yet it felt like the Grand Canyon. “None. Dad didn’t allow me to paint after what happened. Mom, did you read any of the letters I left for you?”
The ones that begged her to meet with me so I could finally understand what happened between us. The ones that said I missed having a mom. The ones that told her how broken I was because in a span of six months, I lost both her and Aires.
“Yes,” she said, so softly I almost missed it. Then she sat up straighter and spoke in her professional gallery curator voice. “Stop trying to change the subject, Echo. We’re talking about your future. Your father never understood us and our need to create art. I’m sure he jumped at the opportunity to cleanse you of anything that had to do with me.
“Good for you for sticking it to him and continuing to paint. Though I wish you would have stood up for yourself more and applied to a decent school. I guess you could try for spring admission. I have significant pull in the art community. I wouldn’t mind writing you a recommendation.”
Writing me a recommendation? My mind became a blank canvas as I tried to follow her train of thought. I’d asked about the restraining order out loud, right? “I don’t want to go to art school.”
My mother’s face reddened and an undercurrent of irritation leaked into her movements and words. “Echo, you aren’t business school material. You never have been. Don’t let your father bully you into a life you don’t want.”
I’d forgotten how much I hated the constant tug-of-war. Ironically, I spent my entire life trying to make them both happy—my mother with art, my father with knowledge—yet in the end, they both threw me away. “I take business classes at school and I’ve aced every single course.”
She shrugged. “I cook, but that doesn’t make me a chef.”
“What?”
Mom looked me square in the eye. “It means you’re just like me.”
No, I’m not, cried a small voice inside my head. “I paint,” I said aloud as if to prove that was our only link.
“You’re an artist. Just like me. Your father never understood me, so I can’t imagine he understands you.”
No, Dad didn’t understand me.
“Let me guess,” she continued. “He’s on you all the time. Whatever you’re doing, it’s not good enough. Or not to his standards and he just keeps on you until you feel like you’re going to explode.”
“Yes,” I whispered and felt my head sway to the right. I didn’t remember this about her. Yeah, she’d taken the occasional verbal punch at my father and she’d always wanted me to choose the path she envisioned for my life over Dad’s, but this felt different. This felt personal.
“I can’t say I’m surprised. He was a failure as a husband, and he completed his failure by being a terrible father.”
“Daddy’s not that bad,” I mumbled, feeling suddenly protective of him and wary of the woman sitting across from me. Never did I think this meeting would be easy, but neither did I imagine it would be so strange. “What happened between us that night?”
She dropped the clover strand and once again avoided my question. “I went away for a while. At first not voluntarily, but then once I understood what happened, what I did … I, um … I stayed. The doctors and staff were very nice, nonjudgmental. I’ve been faithfully on my medication ever since.”
A low, dull throb pulsed near my temples. Goody for stinking her. She took her meds and all was right with the world. “I didn’t ask that. Tell me what happened to me.”
My mother rubbed a hand to her forehead. “Your father always checked on me before he let you visit. I depended upon that. Owen was supposed to take care of me, you and Aires and he messed it up for all of us.”
What the hell? “How did he mess it up for Aires?”
Her eyes narrowed. “He allowed Aires to join the military.”
“But that’s what Aires wanted to do with his life. You know it was his dream.”
“That wasn’t your brother’s dream. It was something that witch your father married planted in his mind. She was the one that filled Aires’ head with stories about her father and brothers and their careers. She didn’t care if he died. She didn’t care what happened to him.
“I told Aires not to go. I told him how much his decision would hurt me. I told him …” She paused. “I told him I’d never speak to him again if he went to Afghanistan.” Her voice broke and all of a sudden I wanted to leave, yet I couldn’t move.
A weird sort of edgy calmness took over my brain. “Those were your last words to Aires?”
“It’s your father’s fault,” she said flatly. “He brought her into our lives and now my son is dead.”
This time, I spoke as if she hadn’t said anything. “Not ‘I love you.’ Not ‘I’ll see you when you get home.’ You told him you’d never speak to him again?”
“That witch broke up my home. She stole your father.”
“This isn’t about Ashley or Dad or even Aires. This is about you and me. What the hell did you do to me?”
Wind chimes from a neighboring grave site tinkled in the breeze. My mother and I shared the same eye shape and color. Those dull and lifeless eyes stared at me. I hoped mine looked happier.
“Does he blame me for that night?” she asked. “Did your father even bother telling you how he just dropped you off? How he didn’t answer the phone when you called for help?”
“Mom.” I paused, trying to find the right words to explain. “I just want you to tell me what happened between us.”
“He didn’t tell you, did he? Of course he didn’t. He’s shoving the blame onto me. You don’t understand. I lost Aires and I couldn’t cope. I thought if I could paint, I would feel better.” She tore handfuls of grass from the ground.
“Dad’s not shoving anything onto you. He’s accepted responsibility for his part, but I don’t remember what happened with us. I fell into your stained glass and then you lay next to me while I bled.” My voice rose higher as I continued to speak. “I don’t understand. Did we fight? Did I fall? Did you push me and why didn’t you call for help and why were you telling me bedtime stories when I was bleeding?”
She tore at the grass again. “This is not my fault. He should have known better. But that’s your father for you. He never tried to understand. He wanted a cookie-cutter wife and divorced me the moment he found one.”
“Mom, you came off your meds. Dad had nothing to do with that. Tell me what happened.”
“No.” She lifted her chin and jutted it out in the stubborn style I remembered so well.
I flinched. “No?”
“No. If you don’t remember, I’m not telling you. I heard he’s got some overpriced, fancy Harvard therapist helping you.” A bitter smile curved her lips. “Did your father find something else he couldn’t fix with money and control?”
For a fleeting moment, the cemetery resembled a chessboard and my mother moved her queen. If Aires and I were pawns in our parents’ game, had she noticed that I quit playing?
“Heard?” I repeated as her answer struck me. “There’s a restraining order. How did you hear anything?”
Mom blinked several times and the color seeped from her cheeks. “I wanted to know how you were doing, so I contacted your father.”
A sickening feeling slid down my throat. “When?”
She lowered her head. “February.”
“Mom … why didn’t you call me? I gave you my numbers.” I paused, unable to keep up with the emotions and questions flying in my head. February. The word vibrated through me. That was the month my father took away my cell and my car without telling me why. He’d lied to me so he could conceal me from her. “I wanted to talk to you. I begged you back in December to call me. Why would you call Dad? I mean, you could have gone to jail. There is a restraining order!”
“No, there isn’t,” she said simply. “The order was rescinded thirty days after you turned eighteen.”
Now I felt as if someone drop-kicked me in the stomach. “What?”
“It was the terms of the order when the judge signed it over two years ago. Your father tried to have it extended until you graduated, but enough time had passed that the judge no longer saw me as a threat.”
I couldn’t breathe and my head shook back and forth. “You mean you could have contacted me since February and you didn’t?”
She hesitated. “Yes.”
“Why?” Was I that unlovable? Weren’t mothers supposed to want to see their daughters? Especially when their daughters asked them for help? Not knowing what to do with myself, I stood and wrapped my arms around my shaking body. “Why?” I screamed it this time.
