Broken Wings (A Romantic Suspense)(43)

She jerks back and looks me in the face. “Come inside. Hurry up.”

She looks at Ellie and flinches, and I see Ellie wilt, but Mom grab’s Ellie’s arm and tugs her along, too. “You too, honey. Get in here!”

Ellie stumbles inside. I steady her by the waist as Mom closes the door.

“Are you Elaine?”

Ellie is trembling, shaking under my touch.

“Yes.”

“Are you to together now?”

Ellie swallows, hard. “Yes.”

“She’s pretty, Jack.”

Ellie’s mouth opens then closes as she bites down on her words. My mother seizes her face, holding Ellie’s cheeks in her hands, and looks at her.

“Oh, honey, that must have hurt. Are you alright?”

“I don’t know. I think so.”

“Is my son treating you okay?”

Ellie looks at me and starts to blush. “Yes, he is.”

“Mom, we’re getting married.”

“Jack!” Ellie snaps.

“You are? Where? When? We have to invite people.”

“Not like that, Ma. We’re eloping. We’re on our way to Vegas.”

She sighs heavily. “Oh you would, Jack. I just hope you’re a decent man with her, not like your father.”

There’s more than a hint of bitterness in her voice.

“I’m sorry, Ma. I should have—”

“Nothing, stop it. You were a little boy, there was nothing you could do and no lawyer I could ever hire would get custody taken away from your father. I could barely find a lawyer to represent me at all.”

Ellie freezes. I follow her gaze and see why.

These two must be my sisters. The younger is four, the older, eight. They both stare at Ellie with big, wide eyes. The younger is Melissa and the older is Sara, if I remember right. Melissa walks up to Ellie and stares up at her. I can see Ellie starting to shake.

“Are you a pirate?” she says.

“Melissa!” Mom snaps, “that’s rude.”

Ellie lets out a slow breath. “No, I’m not a pirate.”

I move closer to her and take her hand again as Sara approaches.

“Are you my brother’s girlfriend?”

Ellie nods, eyeing me the whole time. She’s close to losing it, I can feel it.

Then Sara hugs her.

All at once they’re both crowding me. The little one practically climbs me like a tree until I pick her up. They’re already bombarding us with questions, and Mom demands we follow her into the dining room.

“You’re staying for dinner,” she says, and it’s not a question. “We have a guest bedroom, too. You’ll spend the night?”

She sounds unsure there.

“I think we should,” Ellie answers, before I get the chance.

“You two must be hungry. Thirsty?”

“Yes and yes.”

Mom puts a straw in Ellie’s lemonade without asking. I feel a little weird watching the two of them interact. I can’t stop staring at my mother. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but she’s almost exactly the same. This whole place is strange to me. My little sisters hovering around Ellie, unasked questions hanging on their lips. My sisters.

“Sit down,” Mom scolds them.

I lean over and whisper in Ellie’s ear. “Can you handle this? You okay?”

She nods but brushes a tear away from her eye.

“I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

“I am, really.”

My mother notices and puts a hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright, hon.”

Her voice rises as she does. “How about some lunch? Sandwiches? Did you eat breakfast?”

“We’ve been driving all night.” Ellie says quietly.

Mom frowns just a little then rises and walks into the kitchen. “Jack, come help me out.”

When I join her by the counter she steps past me and closes the sliding doors that cut the kitchen off from the dining room. She folds her arms over her chest and huffs.

“You’re not supposed to be here, are you?”

I look down and let out a long sigh, shrugging my shoulders. “No. No, I’m not supposed to be here.”

“You ran away. With her?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me about it.”

Mom loads the toaster while I talk and doesn’t look at me, instead staring at the red-hot coils heating up around the bread. I tell her how and why I came back, about the wedding, about Ellie, everything.

It hangs unspoken in the air. She says it casually as she spreads mayonnaise over toast, like she’s discussing the weather.

“You think your father had something to do with the accident.”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you were going to help?”

I wash my hands and start making a chicken sandwich. Mom throws some bacon in a pan.

“You need bacon,” she says, by manner of explanation.

I don’t argue.

“Why?”

“Why what?” I say.

“Why do you think he was involved?”

“After the accident he said awful things about Ellie.”

“What about before?”