“I mean it.”
“Sure.” Cissy squeezed her eyes shut, hugged the lion fiercely, and sniffed as tears drizzled down her cheeks.
Marla started for the bed, but, as if she sensed the movement, Cissy opened her eyes and whispered angrily, “Just leave me alone, okay?”
“Honey, please—”
“Don’t, Mom. Just . . .” She dashed away her tears with the back of her hand, leaving dark smears of mascara on her cheek. “Just . . . go.”
Marla didn’t. She couldn’t. Not yet. When the rift between them was growing wider by the minute. She sat on the edge of her daughter’s bed and smoothed Cissy’s bangs from her eyes. The girl stared out the window at the black night, turning her head and lifting a shoulder, silently ostracizing her. Marla plunged on, vaguely aware of Nick waiting on the other side of the threshold. “I know this is hard. For you. For me. For Dad . . . but I’m trying, honey, I’m trying really hard, and soon things will be better. I’ve been remembering things. Just today I remembered James’s birth.”
Cissy stiffened. “Did you?” she sneered, still clutching the stuffed animal and staring out the window.
“Yes.”
“What about mine? Did you remember that, too? I was your first.” Gold eyes dared her to deny the truth.
Marla felt a jab of guilt and wanted to lie, but didn’t. Cissy would see right through any fabrication and it would only make things worse. “Not yet.”
Cissy sent out a short disgusted breath. Her lips twisted as if at some private, painful irony. “You probably won’t. Not ever,” she said.
“Of course I will. Just give me time.” Marla touched Cissy’s cheek again but the girl winced as if she’d been burned.
“You know you came running in here a little while ago. You . . . You were like some kind of maniac, acted like you’d seen a ghost or something and scared the crap out of me.”
“Oh, honey—”
“And then,” Cissy cut in, her voice rising an octave, “and then . . . and then . . . I found you in the hall puking and crying and . . . Mom . . .” her voice suddenly cracked.
Marla’s heart bled. She wanted to gather her daughter in her arms and hold her fiercely and promise never to let go, but as she reached for Cissy’s arm, the teenager scooted to the far corner of the bed and Marla, sighing, rolled to her feet. She was getting nowhere with her daughter, was only making a horrible situation worse.
Nick was waiting for her, one shoulder propped in the doorway to Cissy’s room. He fell into step with Marla in the hall.
“She hates me,” Marla whispered as he walked her to the elevator.
Nick held the door open and Marla stepped inside to sag against the back wall of the small car. “She’s a teenager. You’re her mother. All teenagers act like they hate their mothers.” He pressed the button for the first floor.
“No, it’s more than that.”
“Don’t worry about it tonight.” He touched the bottom of her jaw with one finger and lifted her chin, forcing her eyes to his.
“You think I have more important things to do?”
“Concentrate on getting your memory back.”
“Believe me, there’s nothing I want more.”
He glanced down at her lips and for a second she thought he might kiss her bruised mouth. The air in the little car was suddenly thick, hard to breathe. The elevator stopped. Nick dropped his hand.
The door opened and Eugenia stood waiting in the foyer. Bony fingers fiddled with the strand of pearls at her neck. She glanced from her son to Marla and censure tightened the corners of her mouth. “I’ve called Lars. He’ll drive you.”
“I’ll handle it,” Nick insisted, helping Marla with a raincoat from the front closet.
“But he’s already got the car warmed up and—”
“I said I’m taking care of it,” Nick stated more forcefully, then threw on a battered leather jacket, helped Marla into a long coat, then, with a strong hand on her elbow guided her out the door and along the brick walk to the circular drive where his beat-up truck, an old Dodge that probably leaked oil and God-knew-what-else, was parked.
“What is it with you?” Marla asked. “Why are you such an outsider?”