Free Ties That Bind by Natalie R. Collins Page B

sweet talk, or buttering me up by looking at me like that. This is my case, and I will only say it one more time. I do not need your help.”
    “Why is it I don’t believe that?”
    “Believe what, that it’s my case?”
    “No, that you’re only going to say it one more time. Because I’m not going anywhere.”
    “Well, maybe you aren’t, but I am. Good-bye, Gage.”
    She turned and ran up the steps to her front door, pulling the key out of her fanny pack. She turned to see he stood watching her but didn’t follow.
    Why did you turn, idiot?
    “I have coffee,” he called as she slipped the key in the lock.
    “No thanks. Too hot for coffee today.”
    She went into her house and shut the door, leaning back against it, palms down, as though to keep out evil demons. Or one sexy detective.
    He might be here to stay, but she damn sure didn’t have to make it easy for him.
    When she pulled away from the door and looked out the peephole, she saw he was gone.
    Good.
    She waited for relief to wash over her, but instead she found herself aching, in the very core of what made her tick. He’d left a hole that she was afraid would never be filled by anyone else. And she’d be damned if it would ever be filled again, especially by him.
    So why did she feel so lost?

 
    TEN
    Later that day, Sam dropped in on her parents—she always spent Sunday afternoons watching her father treat her mother like a living, breathing doll.
    “Hi, Dad. How was church?”
    “Oh, we didn’t go today,” her father answered as he stared across the kitchen table into her eyes. He broke the gaze and turned to the woman sitting at his side. “Ruthie just wasn’t feeling up for it, were you, dear?”
    “Oh, well, I’m sorry you had to miss. Maybe next Sunday I can come over and sit with Mom while you go to your meetings. At least to Priesthood.” The truth was, Sam’s father hadn’t left the house to attend church meetings for years. Not since her mother lost her mind. But it was a game Sam and her father had been playing for quite a long time, and she didn’t know how to break the cycle. Or maybe she was just afraid that any break would be a permanent one, irreparable, like a crack that quickly fissured up and outward on a windshield until it was nothing but shattered glass. While the church sisters would come visit during the week, they wouldn’t miss their own weekly meetings and thus affect their eternal salvation. She didn’t really understand why her father wouldn’t go back to the Church he held so dear. She had offered to sit with her mother on Sundays time and time again. Why wouldn’t he go, unless he held more against God than he would ever willingly admit?
    “Oh, I’m betting Ruthie will be more up for it next week. She just had a rough night last night, didn’t you, Ruthie?”
    An abrupt twist of her head almost sent Sam crashing from her chair to the floor.
    “Mom? Dad, did you see that? She just shook her head. She just…”
    “What do you mean, Sammy?”
    “She moved. She shook her—”
    “Oh, Sammy, she moves all the time. I’ve been telling you kids that for years. You just don’t listen. You just don’t hear what I hear.”
    “She talks?”
    “In ways. You just have to learn to listen. That’s all.”
    Sam continued to stare at her mother, eyebrows furrowed as she perused the lined face of the woman who now seemed so oblivious to anything around her. Had Sam imagined the reaction, the sharp twist of her mother’s head in response to Sam’s father’s comment about a rough night?
    What about last night had her mother so agitated? Was she really agitated?
    “Dad, you said she communicates. I have to admit I’ve never seen it. But that seemed like a real response to me.”
    “Sam, of course she responds. She eats; she sleeps. I put food in her mouth and she chews. She’s still there, and you kids know it. It just takes more work to get through to her. That’s the problem with your generation, no