Golden Trail (The 'Burg #3)(151)

“Did you ask what scares her?”

“Yeah, but she didn’t answer. She just started shakin’ and then I felt something comin’ from her and I won’t go into details, Ma, but I been in some serious situations and been in the presence of some serious people, and I’ve never, not in my life, felt anything as nasty as that.”

She put her hand to her mouth and took a breath before dropping it and asking, “Why do you think she didn’t answer?”

“I don’t know, she just wouldn’t go there.”

“What do Dave and Merry say?” Vera asked.

“They don’t, they won’t talk about it.”

“What?”

“They won’t talk about it, Ma. At all. They say if they do, she’ll cut them out like she cut me out.”

“My God,” Vera whispered. “What on earth –?”

Layne cut her off. “I don’t know. I know two things. She’s scared of the dark, really scared and she won’t go there to understand why. And I suspect one thing, whatever this is ties up with why she left me.”

“Did she explain that?” Vera asked softly.

“Yes and no,” Layne answered honestly.

Vera’s eyebrows shot up. “What?”

“She explained it but she says even she doesn’t know why she did it. She just knows it hurt, she wanted that connection back, she fought against it and missed me for eighteen years. Me gettin’ shot broke through.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” Vera observed.

“No shit?” Layne asked.

Vera’s back got straight. “Do you want me to talk to her?”

Oh Christ.

Layne shook his head and stated firmly, “Fuck no.”

“What?” Vera snapped. “Why not?”

“Ma, seriously?” And his mother had the grace to look as guilty as she was.

“Okay,” she said. “So I won’t meet her after school and invite her to manicures and confessions of the soul. I’ll um… win her back and then… um…”

“How about you work Dave, I’ll work Merry and one or the other of us maybe will figure out what the f**k is goin’ on and find a way to get passed it,” Layne suggested.

“Dave isn’t my best friend,” his mother reminded him.

“Yeah, you did that too. But you go over there, wavin’ the white flag while carryin’ one of your pistachio bunt cakes with that kickass icing that he always liked so much and maybe he won’t shoot you.”

Vera grinned then her grin wavered and her eyes got bright with wet.

“One big happy family,” she whispered.

“One big happy family,” Layne whispered back.

“Again,” she finished now trying to force her smile.

“You missed her,” Layne said softly.

“She made you happy,” Vera bullshitted.

“Bullshit,” Layne called her on it. “You missed her.”

She took in a deep breath then she spoke.

“You know, Tanner, I was once head over heels in love,” she told him. “Blind with it. Blind. Then he walked out on me just like she walked out on you.”

Fuck. Jesus. Fuck!

Layne hadn’t thought of it like that.

“Ma –”

“Then I had to watch it happen to you and feel it again because yes, I loved her and when she left, I missed her. But she wasn’t gone, like your father, and every time I saw her, it hurt even more.”

Layne stared at his mother.

Then he ordered, “Come here, Ma.”

She shook her head. “No. If I do, you’re gonna be my sweet boy and make me cry and I don’t have waterproof mascara on.”

“Come here, Ma,” Layne repeated.

“Tanner.”

“Get over here.”

She sighed, set her cup on the arm of the couch, got up and walked to him. When she got close, Layne jumped from the desk and folded his mother in his arms.

He knew she was crying even with her voice muffled by his chest when he heard her say, “You know, you haven’t hugged me since I got home.”

Layne bent and kissed the top of her head and then said there, “I’m a shit son.”

Her head tilted back and her wet eyes hit him, mascara running down, before she whispered, “No, not that, never that, honey. Never.”

“Love you, Ma,” he whispered back, she grinned and lifted her hand, patting him on the side of the neck twice before her fingers curled around.

Then her smile got bigger and she stated, “I’m glad we got this sorted out. Being mean is exhausting. Especially when, at the same time, you’re over the moon that your eldest grandchild has finally sorted out his head and your son is with a woman who cheers on the Colts, helps his boy with his homework and falls asleep on his chest and not one that screeches her nonsense at the top of her lungs at every available opportunity. So, I’ll warn you now, if you ever think of reuniting with Gabrielle, I will not offer to be your receptionist. I’ll have you committed.”

Layne smiled down at her. “Not thinkin’ that’s in the cards, Ma.”

“Thank God,” she breathed, still smiling, she took her hand away and smeared her mascara across her face.