Read Online The Truth About Love and Lightning by Susan McBride - Free Book Online
Authors: Susan McBride
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devoted.
“Mom?”
“What?”
Abby shuffled her shoes, which looked rather wet. “Are you going to make me stand out here all night?”
“For Pete’s sake, let her in,” Bennie directed.
“We’ll make her a cup of tea,” Trudy chirped.
“Oh, sweetie, forgive me”—Gretchen sighed and took Abby’s hand, drawing her daughter inside the house—“but we’ve been shaken up quite a bit today already. My brain’s still catching up.”
“There’s a lot of that going around,” Abby murmured.
As soon as the girl was inside, Bennie and Trudy swarmed her, enveloping Abby’s slender body in a group hug. “So have you left Chicago for good? Will you stay here till the wee one’s born?” they asked, fussing as they touched her hair and her face so they could “see” her better.
“Leave the poor child alone. She’s only just arrived.” Gretchen hauled the heavy suitcase toward the stairwell, then went back to soundly close the door. “Come, come,” she said and shepherded them all into the kitchen, where a copper-tiled ceiling reflected the lamplight and lent the room a burnished glow. “We’ve just eaten supper,” she explained to Abby. “Peanut butter sandwiches and soup.”
Even though the power had miraculously come back on hours ago when she’d brought the man who fell from the sky indoors, Gretchen had been half afraid to open the fridge, thinking the lights might go out again and all the food would spoil. But she would gladly take the chance for Abby’s sake.
“Do you want something?” she asked and went over to pull on the big chrome handle. “I could whip up another sandwich or make some toast?”
“Not just yet,” Abby replied, dumping her oversize bag onto the oak table with a thud. The humidity had set her dark hair into rumpled waves around her face, and her pale skin was makeup free, her lips without gloss. She looked less like a self-confident Chicago art gallery director and more like a teenager, awkward and unsure of herself.
“How about a glass of milk?” Gretchen offered.
Abby shrugged. “I mean, I guess I should get something in my stomach soon since I’m feeding two now, but not yet. I need to decompress first.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way”—Gretchen couldn’t resist brushing an unruly strand of brown from her daughter’s cheek—“but you seem scared to death.”
Abby choked up. “I guess I am.”
“Sweetheart, it’s okay.” She sighed and pulled Abby against her, enfolding the girl in her arms and holding on tightly. “It’s going to be all right.”
The muffled voice croaked against her breasts, “Is it? Is it really?”
So Gretchen replied the only way she could, with words she wished her own mother had uttered to her all those years ago when she’d been just as petrified. “Yes,” she said, stroking Abby’s hair. “Yes, everything will work out. It always does in the end. We’re here for you, whatever you need. Please, believe that.”
Making promises like those wasn’t lying, not really. Of course, she couldn’t see the future, but Gretchen wasn’t about to tell Abby anything else. She figured it was far better than the accusatory What in God’s name have you done? that Annika had shrieked at her when Gretchen had been forced to confess about that summer night when she’d been so unbelievably reckless. As long as she lived, she would never forget the mortified look on her mother’s face, the disappointment in her voice. “And I thought you were such a smart girl. I thought you’d be going to college, that you’d make something of yourself outside of Walnut Ridge. How disappointing this is.” Annika had all but spat the words. “If you had asked for a condom, I would have marched you down to the drugstore to purchase some. But since it’s too late for that, we must deal with the consequences of your actions. So tell me, who is the father?” she had demanded, hands on her hips, using the tone that Daddy used to
“Mom?”
“What?”
Abby shuffled her shoes, which looked rather wet. “Are you going to make me stand out here all night?”
“For Pete’s sake, let her in,” Bennie directed.
“We’ll make her a cup of tea,” Trudy chirped.
“Oh, sweetie, forgive me”—Gretchen sighed and took Abby’s hand, drawing her daughter inside the house—“but we’ve been shaken up quite a bit today already. My brain’s still catching up.”
“There’s a lot of that going around,” Abby murmured.
As soon as the girl was inside, Bennie and Trudy swarmed her, enveloping Abby’s slender body in a group hug. “So have you left Chicago for good? Will you stay here till the wee one’s born?” they asked, fussing as they touched her hair and her face so they could “see” her better.
“Leave the poor child alone. She’s only just arrived.” Gretchen hauled the heavy suitcase toward the stairwell, then went back to soundly close the door. “Come, come,” she said and shepherded them all into the kitchen, where a copper-tiled ceiling reflected the lamplight and lent the room a burnished glow. “We’ve just eaten supper,” she explained to Abby. “Peanut butter sandwiches and soup.”
Even though the power had miraculously come back on hours ago when she’d brought the man who fell from the sky indoors, Gretchen had been half afraid to open the fridge, thinking the lights might go out again and all the food would spoil. But she would gladly take the chance for Abby’s sake.
“Do you want something?” she asked and went over to pull on the big chrome handle. “I could whip up another sandwich or make some toast?”
“Not just yet,” Abby replied, dumping her oversize bag onto the oak table with a thud. The humidity had set her dark hair into rumpled waves around her face, and her pale skin was makeup free, her lips without gloss. She looked less like a self-confident Chicago art gallery director and more like a teenager, awkward and unsure of herself.
“How about a glass of milk?” Gretchen offered.
Abby shrugged. “I mean, I guess I should get something in my stomach soon since I’m feeding two now, but not yet. I need to decompress first.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way”—Gretchen couldn’t resist brushing an unruly strand of brown from her daughter’s cheek—“but you seem scared to death.”
Abby choked up. “I guess I am.”
“Sweetheart, it’s okay.” She sighed and pulled Abby against her, enfolding the girl in her arms and holding on tightly. “It’s going to be all right.”
The muffled voice croaked against her breasts, “Is it? Is it really?”
So Gretchen replied the only way she could, with words she wished her own mother had uttered to her all those years ago when she’d been just as petrified. “Yes,” she said, stroking Abby’s hair. “Yes, everything will work out. It always does in the end. We’re here for you, whatever you need. Please, believe that.”
Making promises like those wasn’t lying, not really. Of course, she couldn’t see the future, but Gretchen wasn’t about to tell Abby anything else. She figured it was far better than the accusatory What in God’s name have you done? that Annika had shrieked at her when Gretchen had been forced to confess about that summer night when she’d been so unbelievably reckless. As long as she lived, she would never forget the mortified look on her mother’s face, the disappointment in her voice. “And I thought you were such a smart girl. I thought you’d be going to college, that you’d make something of yourself outside of Walnut Ridge. How disappointing this is.” Annika had all but spat the words. “If you had asked for a condom, I would have marched you down to the drugstore to purchase some. But since it’s too late for that, we must deal with the consequences of your actions. So tell me, who is the father?” she had demanded, hands on her hips, using the tone that Daddy used to
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