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On one level he understood that they were both just releasing energy in a safe place. On another, David was losing patience with her attitude, which would continue bringing misery to her life.
“It’s true,” he said, although he was fairly certain she wasn’t hearing him even if she was listening. “When you expect something, you work toward it at all times, even unconsciously. Everything you do, every choice you make, is based on that belief. Conversely, if you expect nothing, your choices aren’t based on anything solid, so they’re undirected. Inconsistent.”
She said nothing. And in the dark, he couldn’t make out the expression on her face. Her hands were in her lap, clenched.
His little speech had apparently been wasted on her.
But not on him.
We teach best what we most need to learn. He reminded himself of a lesson he’d been taught long ago.
Yes.
He expected great things of himself. So he had no cause to worry. No reason to believe that the past chasing behind him would ruin the present and future he’d created.
He’d talk to Greg in the morning. Privately. Everything was going to be okay.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“BECAUSE SHE’D BEEN TOO exhausted the night before to face knocking on Shelley’s door, Martha didn’t approach her daughter until the next morning. She didn’t have anything pressing at work, and called Keith to let him know she’d be late. Her next call had been to Marybeth, telling her that she’d be bringing Shelley to school after the first class.
She wanted time alone with her middle daughter, not only so the other kids couldn’t eavesdrop; but also in the hope that she could somehow find a way to reach the child she’d apparently lost without even being aware of it.
“What?” Shelley asked, coming into the kitchen after Ellen had left with the other two. “What’s wrong?” Shelley’s pretty face, twisted with disdain, was barely recognizable, and her once-forthright brown eyes gave away nothing of the thoughts Martha used to be able to read so easily.
Todd! He should be here. Helping her. He and Shelley had always been so close. So close, in fact, that Martha had had to warn him not to play favorites.
“Have a seat.”
She’d made orange tea. It was Shelley’s favorite. And chocolate chip muffins. Thinking they’d have a woman-to-woman chat. Shelley’s behavior called for punishment, but Martha was more concerned about the cause of that behavior. And yelling at the kid, which she badly wanted to do, was not going to garner her that information.
She couldn’t help Shelley without it.
Bringing the plate of muffins and cups of tea to the table, she tried to ignore her daughter’s sullen expression.
She’d once heard the saying that a mother’s pain never stops. Today, she understood.
“Have a muffin.” Setting them down, she put a smaller plate in front of Shelley. And one at the seat perpendicular to her.
“I don’t want any.”
Martha got napkins. Poured tea. Pushed Shelley’s cup toward her.
“Have one,” she said again. “They’re chocolate chip. Your favorite.”
“I said I don’t want one.” Staring at some spot on the floor, Shelley didn’t even look at the fresh-baked muffins as she bit out the words.
Okay. The girl had a right to her choices.
“It’s orange tea.”
“I can smell it.” But she didn’t lift her hunched shoulders or move her hands out of her lap to take a sip.
Well, this was a great success. Breaking a muffin she didn’t think she could swallow, Martha dipped it into tea she didn’t really even like. She chewed the bit of soggy muffin and winced as it went past the lump in her throat.
She had no idea what to say next. How could she possibly hope to find out what was driving Shelley without putting her on the defensive even more than she already was?
There had to be something she could say to reach her. Some way to engage the emotions Shelley had turned off.
