“I’m sorry it freaks you out,” I whispered.
“I’m sorry you’re going through this. And I’m worried you’re going through this,” she whispered back.
“Me too,” I agreed with considerable feeling.
“But I have to tell you, sweetheart, that if you have to go through it, I’m pleased as punch you’re going through it with that man in there.”
I blinked. “You are?”
She nodded. “That man in there would run through fire for you.”
Oh my.
“Do you think?” I whispered.
Her head tipped to the side again. “Don’t you?”
“I –”
“Let that go,” Mom interrupted me on a shake of my hand. “Cora, you could close your eyes tonight and be anywhere tomorrow. The only way I’m going to be able to live with this is to hope to all that is holy that wherever you wake up tomorrow, that man is with you.”
I felt my nose stinging (yes, again!) and whispered, “Mom.”
“I’m being straight with you. I could… I could… hell, I did lose you for two months and…” she trailed off and her eyes filled with tears.
“Mom,” I whispered again and pulled her into my arms, her arms went around me tight and we both held on as we cried.
Then she suddenly let me go but her hands came up, she grabbed both my cheeks and she got right in my face. Her eyes were bright and intense and at the sight of them, my breath hitched.
“I could lose you tomorrow and never see you again,” she told me fiercely and my breath hitched again. “And the only thing I can hold onto to be able to rest my head on the pillow at night is the thought that wherever you are, you’re with him and he’s riding his horse or driving his car or flying his spaceship, I don’t care, but he’s doing it with you, he’s not letting you go and he won’t let any harm come to you. That’s the only thing I have. And right now, that is what your man is giving your father. So, I think it is very wise to let your father have as much peace of mind as your man can give him before whatever happens next, happens.” Her thumbs swept my cheeks and she finished on a whisper, “Do you get me?”
I nodded and my fingers came up and curled around her wrists. “I get you, Mom.”
“Promise, whatever happens, you’ll be safe,” she demanded fervently.
“I promise,” I promised on another hitch of breath.
“No more wielding daggers,” she ordered and I pressed my lips together because who knew what could happen? I couldn’t promise that.
“How about, I promise not to wield daggers unless absolutely necessary?” I replied, she stared at me a second then she burst out laughing and wrapped her arms tight around me again.
I shoved my face in her neck and when her hilarity calmed, I said into her skin, “I love you, Mom and when I was gone, I missed you and the worst thing about being gone was thinking I’d never see you and Dad again and I didn’t have the chance to say good-bye.”
Her arms gave me a squeeze and she whispered, “Oh sweetie.”
My arms gave her a squeeze and I whispered back, “So, if we go again, I want you to know, and never forget, that I’ll miss you and I’ll always love you. Always.”
She shoved her face even further in my neck and held on even tighter.
Moments passed as we held each other and just when I was about to let go, she said, “One more promise, Cora.”
“Anything, Mom,” I replied and her head went back but her arms stayed around me.
“Hold onto him tight. Don’t let that man go. For me, for your Dad and mostly… mostly, my beautiful, funny girl,” her hand came up to cup my cheek and her eyes stared deep into mine, “for you. Yeah?”
I bit my lips and even between my lips, they trembled.
I let them go and said quietly, “He could be lost to me.”
“Then hold on tight.”
“It might not –”
Her arm gave me a squeeze. “Hold on tight.”
“He –”
“Cora, learn this from your mother. There are not many men like him in this world or his, I’d guess. Men like him don’t come around very often. Men like him who look at my girl like she holds the other half to his soul and he couldn’t exist without her are even more rare.” I held my breath at her words, a part of both Tor and Rosa’s story I did not share, but words she used anyway while she concluded, “So hold… on… tight.”
“Okay,” I whispered.
Seriously, what else could I do?
“Promise?” she pushed.
“Promise,” I gave in.
Mom smiled.
Boy, I was screwed.
Mom let me go and turned back to the sink, wiping her face and saying, “Okay, let’s get this done and get back in there. It’s good they’re bonding but they’re doing it with whisky. Whisky makes your father talkative. Talkative means he might get out photo albums. And you went through that unfortunate punk phase when you were fifteen. We don’t want Tor seeing that.”
Oh crap.
No. Agreed. We absolutely, definitely did not want Tor seeing photos of me with ratted out hair, too much black eyeliner and torn clothes held together with safety pins.
I snatched a plate out of the drainer and dried it, urging, “Hurry, Mom. Dad had three before we even cleared the table.”
“Right,” Mom muttered and started wiping silverware.
And I finished the dishes with my Mom and while I did it I memorized every freaking second.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Something to Celebrate
I was silent on the ride home mostly because I was thinking of all my mother had said, all that had happened between Tor and me and about the words to “Crash into Me”.
It wasn’t until Tor unlocked the door to my apartment that it hit me Tor had been silent all the ride home too.
He opened the door for me, I preceded him, he closed it, locked it and stalked, yes, stalked to the kitchen.
Hmm. It seemed I’d missed something.
I saw the light go on there, I switched on a few lamps in the living room then I followed him and stopped in the doorway to see he was opening and closing cupboards.
“Can I get you something?” I asked quietly and his eyes sliced to me.
They were broody and intense.
Oh boy.
“Do you have spirits?” he asked back.
Oh boy!
“Um… you had whisky with my Dad,” I pointed out.
“Yes, and I knew I would be operating that vehicle, undoubtedly in the rain, which it does all the bloody time here, so I did not have as much as I would have liked for operating that vehicle inebriated would not be wise,” he returned.
He was right about that.
“In the cupboard by the wall,” I belatedly answered his question.
He went to the cupboard, sorted through my myriad of bottles, pulled out some bourbon, opened it, sniffed it and went to the cupboard that held my glasses.
I watched him pour himself a rather healthy dose as I grew uncomfortable.
Tor was being broody, something he could be but he was usually kind of… openly broody. As in, it was rare he didn’t tell me what was on his mind.