“They’ll be fine.” He got in the car.
“They better be,” I mumbled.
The car drove off.
Meadow waved from the back window and I forced a smile like everything was okay.
I waved goodbye and held in stupid tears. Emptiness sank down inside of me. My heart broke.
Still, I tried to pump myself up.
This is good. I need the free time. Single motherhood rocks. Hell to the yes. . .
My girls and I were so close. We had the same dreams and nightmares. When I dreamt of flying as an eagle high in the sky. They did to, but with more colorful feathers and puffy, white clouds. When the storms of terror woke us up, the chasing nightmares, the zombie-biting dreams, we screamed out together, rushing to the other with opened arms and shaking hands. We would all pile into my bed, pray, and go back to sleep, drifting off into a warm heap of comforting love.
After Brett, it had been just the three of us in a world of our own creation. The wilderness and daily life blared outside of the property—people living and moving around—and we’d remained invisible. I hadn’t reconnected with friends or tried to get to know any of the parents at the girls’ school.
I’d hid us in a cave. They’d broken free. And now the darkness and coldness was closing in around me.
I miss them already.
Tears fell from my eyes. Loneliness wrapped its cold arms around my body and refused to let go.
“We will have the night.”
“What?” I wiped away my tears with shaking hands and stared at the snow falling from the sky.
“We will have the night.”
Okay. There’s two options going on right now. One, I’m crazy. I don’t like that option. Two, there’s some haunted spirits in this yard. I can deal better with two than one.
With all my energy, I ran my behind into the house, not pondering anything further.
Then, I called Mom.
She answered, after the first ring. “Hey, baby. How’s the bag working for you?”
“I’m hearing voices outside.”
“Like what?” That was always Mom. Nothing shocked her or appeared too impossible for her not to believe. “What are the voices saying?”
“Someone said Remy.”
“Oh. That’s a French name. I love Remy Martin cognac. Good stuff on a cold night. I might send Daniel down the street to get me a bottle. He’s such a nice boy, always checking in on me. He’s shoveling my driveway right now. Should I tell him to stop by and shovel your driveway?”
“Mom, I just said that I’m hearing voices.”
“Yes, and that they said a French name. Do you want me to send Daniel by?”
“You know I don’t want you to send him by. Stop trying to get us back together.”
“I always liked Daniel.”
“We were in high school at the time we dated. It’s kind of hard for a mother to not like any little high school boy.”
“Not true. Daniel was the only one I ever approved of.”
Sighing, I went to the cupboard and pulled out a tea cup. “Mom, would the bag make me hear things?”