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“But this was my gift to you, to thank you for letting me stay the night.”
“There’s no need to thank me. As far as I was concerned, you were always welcome. It was Luke’s father who was the problem.”
I nodded my understanding and let her shoo me over to the table. I sat and watched her find an electric griddle in the pantry by the back door. “This will make things a little easier. We can make a lot more at once.” She carried it over to the counter and plugged it in.
I rose to come stand beside her. She didn’t tell me to sit again, and together we started making pancakes.
“I’m sorry again to have surprised you. I should have waited for an invitation to come here, but I had a terrible day yesterday, and…”
“You needed to be with Luke. I understand. It’s good you can support each other.” She glanced my way with worry in her blue gaze. “Anything I can help with?”
I shook my head. “No. I’m just glad to be here.”
Pouring out another gob of batter, she smiled. “I’m glad too.”
Heavy stomping sounded from the floor above, followed by a loudbam-bam-bamnoise of something being dragged down the stairs.
Mrs. Montgomery sighed. “Here we go.”
Betsy strode into the kitchen with a teddy bear in one hand and dragging an enormous pink roller bag with the other. “I’m going to live with Rodney,” she announced. “I called him this morning, and he said I could. Let’s go.”
“Honey—”
Betsy saw me then. “Hi, Minty.” She was still frowning, and her face was puffy from having cried a lot yesterday, but she gave me a friendly little wave.
I waved back. “Hi, Betsy. How are you?”
“Mad,” she said. “How are you?”
“Stressed.”
She huffed. “Me too.”
We studied each other for a moment, and then she nodded once, turned toward the kitchen door and flung it open. “Drive me to Rodney’s house.”
“Honey, Christmas time is for family, and—”
Betsy stamped a foot. “Rodneyismy family. We’re getting married.”
I blinked. Mrs. Montgomery was silent, and with that proclamation, Betsy stepped outside, her roller bag bumping along after her.
“Married?” Mrs. Montgomery murmured, and then gestured at me. “Do you mind finishing these while I…?” She nodded at the back door, which stood open, though Betsy was now nowhere in sight.
“Sure.”
Tightening her robe again, Mrs. Montgomery walked outside and firmly shut the door behind her.
The kitchen filled with an anticipatory silence. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen next with Betsy, with me, with Luke, with Kyle, with life itself. I was pretty sure that once Luke woke, he’d want to help handle things with Betsy, and as soon as that was resolved, he’d want to drive back to Knoxville to take the recording to the campus police.
Nerves twittering in my gut, I flipped the pancakes on the griddle, and then stacked them carefully on a plate before filling the griddle with more batter circles. The scent of sweet and fluffy cakes rose all around me, and the odd, but not unpleasant smell of an unfamiliar house filled in the air around it.
Turning toward the window over the sink, I looked out on the view of the back yard. Betsy and Mrs. Montgomery sat side by side on the swing set, both swaying gently, and Mrs. Montgomery speaking with what appeared to be a calm, even tone. Betsy reached out her hand, and Mrs. Montgomery took it.
I wondered what it would be like to have a mother who had the capability to tune into my needs and put me first. Sure, Mrs. Montgomery had made a hard choice that impacted Betsy’s happiness, but it wasn’t as if she wasn’t trying to soothe and understand her. She didn’t expect Betsy to take care ofherand just pretend everything was okay.
Lukewas attuned to my needs. Especially when we were in his basement. There, he noticed every last twitch of muscle, every last expression that passed through my eyes, much less resting on my face. I adored the way he watched me when I was at his mercy—like he couldn’t look away, like he couldn’t get enough.
That was part of what I was missing while he was gone. I hadn’t realized how addicted I’d become to being seen and witnessed, to being loved and understood. I was like a drug fiend, and when he’d disappeared so suddenly, it felt like a post-cocaine crash that’d lasted and lasted and lasted. The urge to fill that space with something intense and all-consuming had nearly broken me.
