Free Moon Spun by Marilee Brothers

couldn’t do much about Mike Purdy and his newly discovered past until I had more information. But, Faye was a different story. Tantalizing new clues had come my way and with it, my resolve to discover why Faye had such a screwed-up life.
    Maybe if I could figure out what went wrong, I could fix it and my mother would be happy. Actually, I would settle for less miserable. My new motto: One parent at a 290
    time.
    I went inside, picked up the phone and punched the number for the Bea’s Honey Pot Diner. When my mother came on the line, I said, “Hi. It’s Allie. I talked to Grandpa Claude.”
    Then, I held the phone a good six inches away from my ear. Wait for it . . . Faye’s horrified screech was so ear-piercing, so shrill, I swear I could hear it reverberating across the entire upper Columbia basin.
    One small step for Allie. One giant leap for faeries in denial.
    When she spoke, her voice was ominously quiet. “You’d better be there when I get home. We’ll talk about it then.”
    I hung up the phone. Time to figure out a plan to keep from getting grounded for life. 291

Chapter Ten
    Faye’s and my relationship rarely chugged along smoothly. With us, it was all about peaks and valleys. Atop the peaks, life was good. We staked out territory and each did our own thing. The valleys were the worst. Faye, in the grip of depression, could and would cry for days. When I was a little kid, her down days scared the crap out of me. I’d try everything I could think of to snap her out of it. I’d sing “I’m a Little Teapot” complete with hand motions. Ditto, the chicken dance, snapping my fingers and flapping my wings until, finally, I’d give up in exhaustion.
    Pretty lame, but, hey, I was seven years old. Cut me some slack!
    Bottom line: I didn’t know what to expect when Faye came home. I had no plan, other than to tell the truth. I’ve heard that’s supposed to work. My biggest decision was how much of the truth to tell.
    I was sitting at the table doing homework when the pickup rolled to a stop outside the trailer. I heard a door slam as Faye exited the truck. My heart started beating triple time, and I clamped my hands between my knees to stop them from shaking. Mad Faye or sad Faye?
    I jumped when the door to the trailer opened. A quick glance over my shoulder told me nothing about my mother’s mood. Her face, though paler than usual, looked like it always did when she came home from work. Tired. She walked to the dinette and stood over me. Before I knew what was happening, she reached out, grabbed my pony tail and yanked.
    “Ouch!” I glared up at her.
    Faye slid into the dinette across from me and folded her hands on top of the table. “That was for seeing your grandfather without my permission.”
    I waited for the storm to hit. “That’s it?”
    Faye stood and crossed to the refrigerator. She snagged a can of Diet Pepsi, popped the top and took a big swallow. When she sat back down, she said, “I know you, Allie, so I knew this day would come.”
    Shock does not begin to describe how I was feeling. Faye being calm and reasonable was not even in my play book.
    “So, what did my old man tell you?” Her tone was casual, but worry lines creased her forehead. I decided not to hit her with the faery stuff right away.
    For some reason, I couldn’t look into my mother’s eyes, so I stared at the table. “He told me about your mother. Melia. He said she wasn’t dead.”
    When I glanced up at her, Faye’s eyes were huge. Her hand tightened around the soda can. When she spoke, her voice was shrill. “What the hell is he talking about?
    Of course she’s dead. Wouldn’t I know if my own mother was dead or alive?”
    Whoa! Not quite the reaction I was expecting. Then, I remembered what Grandpa Claude said about Faye being locked in the room full of iron, how it made her forget. I put my hand on her arm. “It’s possible you were told she was dead. You were just a little kid. Maybe your dad didn’t