Free Guardian by Kassandra Kush Page B

stove, spatula in hand. I closed my eyes and counted to ten before opening them once more.
    It was real. Mom was good today. She was here , all of her was here. She was in a good mood. I almost sagged against the wall in relief, but I didn’t know how long this mood would last. I needed to go out and enjoy it while it was here.
    I stepped around the long bar style counter that separated our kitchen from the dining area and living room. “Mom?” I hated myself for asking it, for phrasing it like a question even though I could see she was here with my own two eyes.
    She looked up from the stove, smiling at me. My beautiful mother, a picturesque, older version of Grace, with her porcelain skin, china doll blue eyes, and golden curls. The only difference was that my mom was clearly world weary; it showed in the crows feet wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, the deep creases in her forehead, her poor posture as she hunched a little bit over the stove. But she would always be beautiful to me, a fact I knew as she smiled gently at me and I covered the kitchen in three quick strides to throw my arms around her.
    As her arms slid around me, I inhaled deeply, pricking up my ears to hear better, trying to use every sense to commit this scene to memory, because it would undoubtedly have to last me a long time. She smelled clean, like Dove soap, with a little hairspray, and pancakes. The sizzling of the stove filled my ears, and I reveled in her soft touch as she stroked my hair once and then patted my head.
    “Watch out, honey, I’ve got to get your pancakes off the stove before they burn!” she chuckled.
    “Okay, I’m sorry,” I said, stepping back and fighting tears. I’ve missed you! I wanted to scream. But instead I moved to sit down with Colton and Grace, who were wolfing down their breakfast.
    It was the wait of a moment before I got my own stack, and I tore into them as well. No one could make pancakes as good as my mom’s, a fact Colton, Grace, and I all agreed on whenever I made us pancakes for breakfast. It was as though there was a secret ingredient only mothers knew that made them taste worlds better.
    When we all had our own plates of food and our glasses were topped off with milk, Mom sat down with us, her slim hands wrapped around a steaming mug of coffee. She asked us all how school was going, listening with patience to Grace’s long winded description of why she liked her teacher, and nodding slowly as Colton recited all of the times tables he had memorized so far.
    I kept silent in my chair, sitting in the background, only watching. Colton and Grace needed these memories, this close time with her. I already had my own to cling to. It had only been when my mother had found herself pregnant with Grace, when I was eleven, that things had begun to sour quickly, and my parents had grown bored with the idea of having a family. I had practically raised Grace myself.
    “Lyla? It’s almost time to go!”
    I was pulled from my heavy thoughts by my mom’s gentle shake. “What? Oh, sorry. Gosh, it is almost time!”
    I bolted up from my seat, only just realizing that I had yet to get dressed. In my room I threw on a jumper, simultaneously pulling my hair up into a ponytail. A quick stop at the bathroom to wash my face and brush my teeth and I was ready to go, standing next to the door, backpack in hand as I waited for Colton and Grace, who were tripping down the hallway.
    “Have a good day, all of you!” Mom said as she herded us toward the front door. She gave all of us a hug and kiss on the cheek, holding me an extra beat as she whispered into my ear, “I love you, Lyla. I am so proud of you.”
    I treasured her words as we struck off for school, all grinning together.
    Grace was beaming. “I like Mommy like this,” she told me.
    “Me too,” I said, pulling Grace closer in a one armed hug as we were walking. I couldn’t bear to think how disappointed she would be when ‘Mom’ disappeared again. “Me