Free A Fistful of God by Therese M. Travis Page B

the first batch of pancakes, watched them bubble, watched them burn. Mom reached around me and flicked off the flame, dumped the ruined food in the trash and wiped the pan. “Aidyn, baby,” she said. “Please—”
    The phone rang.
    “Don’t,” she started, but all I could think of was Miguel, and I grabbed it. “Let me talk to your mother,” an unfamiliar voice said. I didn’t know who this woman was, but I knew she didn’t like me.
    I handed over the phone and went back to cooking, and tried to pay attention to the food. Should I call Miguel? If he hadn’t called me by tonight, I decided I would. I’d pretend I didn’t know if the youth group met every week, and we’d start talking and then…
    The second batch looked much better, and I took the plate into the living room for Mom. She had her back to me but still I heard her.
    “I know Aidyn better than you do,” she said, “and I think she can handle this.”
    I should have walked away, but I had the right to listen, didn’t I?
    “She’s my daughter. My life. If it weren’t for her I’d never have quit, and right now, anything can destroy our relationship. I don’t want this to come between us.” Silence, then, “She has to know. She’ll find out soon enough, and how will I ever get her to trust me again? I think now…I think she’s starting to.”
    I backed into the kitchen. Did I trust her? But if she’d kept something from me, something important, why should I? I’d never be able to eat now. I left everything on the table, made sure I’d turned off the stove, and crept to the shower. I came out to find Mom waiting.
    “Aidyn, there’s something I…” She bit her lip. “Please try to understand.”
    “Mom, what?”
    She took a breath and wrapped her arms around herself. “I love you, baby. I don’t want to ever hurt you.”
    I couldn’t answer—I couldn’t—but I leaned against her until she put her arms around me, and I let her hold me. For once, I let myself feel like I had my Mom back again, after missing both my parents for years and years.
     
    ****
     
    Sunday morning I huddled at the end of the church pew and watched the priest so I’d know the first second I could escape. I’d called Miguel, left a message with his mother, and he’d never called me back. I’d only gone to Mass at all because of that hug from Mom, and I was not waiting around to let those kids start on me again
    “Come on , Mom.” I grabbed her as soon as the service ended, but she resisted me, hanging back, looking across the parking lot crowd. I saw Shannon and figured Jackson couldn’t be far behind. I turned and barreled into some lady.
    Mom’s horrible perfume-disguise engulfed me, just as a barely familiar voice said, “Beth!” Pieces clicked into place. She had called Mom the day before, the lady who didn’t know me but didn’t like me. She was why Mom smelled so horrible after she’d been out. The one who knew something she didn’t want Mom to tell me.
    “This is my daughter, Aidyn.” Mom pushed me forward to meet the woman’s ice-blue eyes. I’d seen those eyes before. I just couldn’t think where. We glared at each other. “Aidyn, this is Elaine, my sponsor.”
    “So you’re Aidyn.” I figured she hoped I’d crawl back in my garbage-can home and never bother her again. “I’ve heard an awful lot about you.”
    Maybe it was the way she said “awful,” maybe it was her eyes, but I shivered.
    “She’s as beautiful as you said, Beth.” Once she’d gushed to Mom, she turned back to me. All the kindness she’d used talking to Mom disappeared. “How are you liking the youth group?”
    “It’s all right.”
    Jackson came up behind her, and I braced myself.
    “Aidyn, you coming? We’ve got to get started.”
    I shrugged and watched Elaine turn to Jackson. “Come home as soon as the meeting ends. Dad wants an early start this afternoon.”
    “OK, yeah. I’ll hurry.” He grabbed my wrist. “Come on.”
    Who was he