Free Innocence Tempted by Samantha Blair Page B

hadn't realized until he brought it up how little I actually cried. Some of the girls at school were sort of known for it. If a boy said something mean to them, or they did something stupid, or even if they just had a bad case of PMS , they would be locked in the bathroom pouring out tears like little children with scraped knees. I had never done that. I always thought it was just my maturity. In some ways I was sure that it still was — no one needed to cry that much — but Cody had really struck a chord with me: I didn't cry at my own mother's funeral.
    I didn't cry at my own mother's funeral.
    I had sniffled and allowed a couple of drops to run from my eyes as I spoke the words that were required of me. I had worn black and been appropriately silent. I had prayed for her soul as instructed. I had laid my rose on her casket with the others. But I hadn't really cried, not the way I did tonight.
    I really thought hard about it, as I sat in the shower, and I was pretty sure that the last time I had really cried like that had been about five years before she died. She came to town on a whim and spent a few days with me. I was ten. I thought she was the greatest thing that ever lived. She took me out for ice cream and to play mini-golf. For a few short days, I had a real mother.
    I cried when she left. I didn't want her to go, but she left me anyway. I stood in the driveway and watched her little red car pull away. There was never anything that I could say or do to make her stay. My dad said it wasn't my fault—that she was just flighty like that by nature—but I never believed him. She left him because she didn't want me as a baby. She left me because she didn't want me as a child either.
    My tears didn't bring her back that day, and they wouldn't have brought her back from the grave either. They didn't help, so I stopped shedding them.
    How did Cody know that?
    I was glad that I wasn't planning to see Cody for a couple of days as I wasn't really ready to face him just yet. I think I just needed some time to process my emotions. I just didn't quite know what to think or feel. I was confused and conflicted. I felt empty and vulnerable. My carefully crafted exterior had been breached, and I couldn't think of anything to do but sleep it off. I closed my eyes and found comfort in sleep.
    When the morning light filtered through my window I realized I was hungry. Really hungry . I had slept late, and it was nearly eleven in the morning. My dad had worked the late shift, but he would be up soon. I went downstairs and made a huge breakfast. When he came grumbling down a little while later, he gave me a questioning look. It was unlike me to make so much food. I just shrugged and said I was hungry. He let it go.
    My dad had the day off so we went down to the lake together to fish. As we sat shoulder to shoulder in comfortable silence, I began to feel better… about everything. We didn’t talk about Mom much, we never really had, but somehow he’d learned to live without her, and so had I. We were okay, just the two of us. Would he still be okay when I went away to school? That was how it worked, right? All little girls eventually had to grow up and spread their wings.
    I watched him cast a line with practiced ease and noticed for the first time how gr e y the hair at his temples had become. I wasn’t the only one who had aged. Massachusetts was a long way from Montana. What if something went wrong and he needed me? Or more likely, what if I needed him? 
    “You okay, kiddo?” he asked, probably catching my worried expression.
    “Just thinking about leaving. It’s so far away.”
    “Yeah, but it’s Harvard. There’s only one, and it’s in New England.”
    I laughed. “This is true.”
    “I’m only a phone call away. The whole town is, really. You belong out there. You’ve worked your whole life for this.”
    “Do you think Mom would want me to go?” I asked out of the blue. “I mean she never put much stock in