CHAPTER 28. JUST A WALK
“My memories, like some people’s dreams, are mostly without color,” Judy said quietly, absently stirring her bowl of homemade oatmeal. “More like snapshots than videos, too.”
Leesa had been watching her mom closely since she sat down at the table, looking for any sign the grafhym blood was having the effect they all hoped for. Mom was talking a little strangely—as usual—but Leesa thought she detected something different than what she was used to in the strangeness. And it was wonderful Mom was talking at all, with the scare she’d given them last night, collapsing and passing out after being injected with the blood. She had remained unconscious all the way home and after Leesa and Aunt Janet tucked her into bed. But her pulse seemed strong and her breathing even, so they had let her sleep, hoping she’d be better in the morning.
Leesa had never been happier than when she peeked in on her mom this morning and was greeted by a weak smile and a soft “Hi dear.” She’d invited Mom to join them for breakfast whenever she felt ready, and now here she was, sitting across the table stirring, although not yet eating, her oatmeal. At least she hadn’t made any move for the jar of tomato juice Aunt Janet had discreetly placed at the end of the table.
Leesa picked up a few dried cranberries from the tiny serving dish in the center of the table and dropped them into her oatmeal. Aunt Janet’s recipe was thick and delicious, enhanced with banana, raisins, dried cranberries and brown sugar. Leesa had never eaten oatmeal at home—who knew it could be so yummy? She swallowed another spoonful, hoping her mom might mimic her. But Mom just kept on slowly stirring.
“What do you remember, Mom?”
Judy’s spoon stopped. She looked at Leesa as if surprised by the question, even though she’d been the one who brought up the topic. “I remember lots of things,” she said. A confused look tightened her brow. “But not a lot of details. It’s all kind of hazy. Black-and-white, too,” she repeated. She glanced toward the jar of tomato juice. “Except the tomato juice. Strange, but that was always red.” Her spoon resumed circling in her oatmeal. “And blood, too. I remember when you cut your thumb slicing bread in the kitchen. How very red the blood was.”
“Try some oatmeal, Mom,” Leesa said, taking another spoonful herself. She wanted to talk about anything but blood. “It’s delicious.”
She watched her mom eye the tomato juice again. Leesa was afraid her mom might grab it and pour some into her oatmeal, but to Leesa’s relief, she did not.
A few seconds later, Judy finally spooned some oatmeal into her mouth. She smiled. “It is good.” She took another spoonful. Her movements were still somewhat robotic, Leesa thought, but at least a bit more natural than the vacant stirring.
“Do you remember anything about last night?” Aunt Janet asked matter-of-factly.
“I remember some horrid-looking man lying on the ground in the rain,” Judy said, grimacing at the recollection. A moment later, her face brightened, and the transformation was startling. “I remember a very handsome young man brought him there.”
Leesa smiled. “That was my boyfriend, Mom.”
“You have a boyfriend? Why didn’t I know that?”
Leesa thought of all the things her mom didn’t know about her—hadn’t known throughout her entire life—but said nothing. That was not a road worth going down, especially not now. She was determined to stay in the present, to think only about the future.
“Anyhow, he’s quite handsome, even in black-and-white,” Judy said, smiling. “I bet he’s a good kisser.”
Leesa almost dropped her spoon into her oatmeal. Where on earth did that come from? She felt herself beginning to blush and lifted her napkin to her mouth to hide her face.
“You never had much use for boys in high school, did you?” Judy continued. “I only remember that one boy. He was very tall. What was his name again?”
“Will,” Leesa said. She would never in a million years have guessed she would rather talk about Will than Rave, but Will was a much safer subject. “He was on the basketball team, Mom.”
Sensing Leesa’s discomfort, Aunt Janet changed the subject. “Do you remember anything else about last night, Judy?”
Judy closed her eyes. When she opened them, she shook her head. “No, sorry. Is there something I’m supposed to remember?”
“No, nothing, dear,” Aunt Janet said. “I was just wondering, that’s all.”
For a few moments, they ate in silence, the only sounds the clicking of spoons against their bowls. Leesa was glad her mom didn’t remember being injected with blood; she didn’t want to have to explain it. She still wasn’t sure the blood had produced any real effect, but the fact that her mom hadn’t touched the tomato juice gave her hope.
“That really was very good, Janet,” Judy said, putting her spoon down into her empty bowl. “You’ll have to give me the recipe.”
Whoa! A recipe? Leesa couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her mom eat anything for breakfast but a bowl of cereal and tomato juice. Maybe it was working. Don’t get too excited, she chastised herself. It’s just oatmeal. It’s not like Mom said, “Lets go out and soak up some rays.” But maybe it was a start. Leesa looked down and saw she had unconsciously crossed her fingers on her right hand. She smiled. Couldn’t hurt, she thought, dropping her hand into her lap before anyone noticed.
Her mom rose stiffly from the table and shuffled toward the wide picture window, stopping about two feet from the glass. Leesa watched her closely. This was one of the iconic images from her childhood—her mom standing by the window, staring out at a world she had mostly abandoned. Many times, Leesa had been outside looking in at her mom, wishing desperately her mom would come outside with her.
“It’s so pretty out there,” Judy said, her voice so soft Leesa wondered whether she was speaking to the rest of them or to herself. “So many colors. Green and gold and red. There’s even some blue in the sky today.”
Leesa got up and limped over beside her mom. Max took this as his signal to get up from his perch in front of the fireplace and join her. He stood next to her, his body pressed against her leg. Leesa stroked the top of his soft head. It was pretty out there, she thought. And her mom was right—though still mostly a heavy gray, the clouds had broken a little, revealing small patches of blue. She silently cursed the weatherman, who’d promised another day of gray and rain—the kind of day her mom much preferred.
Judy turned toward Leesa. “Would you like to go for a walk, honey?”
Leesa thought she felt her heart stop. Had she heard what she thought she’d heard? A walk? Outside? She tried to speak, to scream “Yes!” but nothing came out. Her voice was suffocated by years of things missed, of activities left undone. She felt her mouth hanging open, had to force herself to breathe. She threw her arms around her mother.
“Yeah, I’d love to, Mom,” she managed to say at last.
Her mom wrapped her arms around Leesa’s back. “It’s just a walk, honey.”
Just a walk? Sure, Leesa thought. And Harry Potter was just some wizard, Bella and Edward just another couple, Shakespeare just an old playwright. Heck, by that notion, even Rave was just another guy. This was so not just a walk. This was the answer to a young girl’s ceaseless prayers, the realization of years of hopes and dreams, the start of a whole new and better life.
Leesa forced her excitement down, in no way wanting to put any pressure on her mom. “I know, Mom. But I really like to walk.”
Leesa was in heaven.
Earlier, she and her mom had enjoyed an hour-long walk, strolling leisurely with Max padding beside them, not talking much, content to take in the lovely foliage and breathe the crisp, cool air. The colors were a bit past their peak, but beautiful nonetheless. What Leesa liked best was that they simply walked, not worrying at all about shadows and sunlight. Sure, it had been a mostly gray morning and the tall trees had provided lots of shade, but her mom never flinched when they came upon an open patch of sunshine. The grafhym blood seemed to ha
ve done its work.
They’d even held hands for part of the walk—something Leesa was certain many eighteen-year-olds would have found very uncool. But she didn’t care. Six-year-old and ten-year-old Leesa had a lot of making up to do, and she was determined to make up as much of it as she could.
Which was why she was now at the mall with her mom and Cali. They’d borrowed Aunt Janet’s car and picked Cali up at school. Her mom was going to stay in Connecticut indefinitely, living with Aunt Janet and Uncle Roger, and she needed winter clothes. She also wanted to learn more about Leesa’s life at Weston, and Leesa figured meeting her best friend would be a great way to start. Missing a couple classes was not that big a deal, and Cali—not surprisingly—had wholeheartedly agreed to ditch her classes as well. Shopping was one of her favorite activities.
The mall was not very crowded, and they moved easily from store to store, trying on outfits and making their purchases without much waiting. Two hours flew by, and each of them was now lugging at least one bag filled mostly with stuff for Leesa’s mom.
“Let’s take a little break,” Leesa suggested. “I could use a soda.”
“Good idea,” Judy said. She looked outside through the mall’s wide glass entranceway. “It’s getting nice outside. I’d love to sit out in the sun.”
Leesa couldn’t hold back her smile. She’d never in a million years expected to hear those words from her mom and would have agreed to sit outside even if the temperature had been below freezing. “Sounds great. I think there’s some benches right outside.”
“You girls go sit,” Judy said. “I’ll get the drinks. What would you like?”
Leesa asked for Diet Pepsi; Cali opted for lemonade.
Leesa grabbed her mom’s bag. “See you outside.” She turned and limped toward the doors. Her mom went back the way they’d just come, heading for the snack area.
Outside, Leesa and Cali set their bags down on the cement plaza and sat beside each other on a black metal bench. Leesa could feel the cold metal through her jeans, but she didn’t mind. She leaned back and lifted her face toward the sky. Half the sky was filled with puffy gray and white clouds; the rest was a beautiful, rain-scrubbed blue. The air was cool but not uncomfortably so, and the sun felt wonderful on her face.
“Your mom’s nice,” Cali said, pulling her multicolored crochet Rasta tam from her head. She ran her fingers through her scrunched hair, fluffing it. “You never talk about her, so I thought she must be weird or something.”
“She was sick for a long time,” Leesa said, unzipping her red Weston hoodie halfway. “But she’s much better now.”
“You must be really glad about that.”
Leesa smiled. “I am. You have no idea.”
One of the glass doors swung open and her mom appeared, holding three tall white cups in both hands.
“Here you go,” she said, handing a cup first to Cali, then to Leesa. She gave them each a plastic straw and sat down next to Leesa.
Leesa saw her mom had gotten a Diet Pepsi for herself and grinned, thinking how ironic it was that diet soda could be considered a healthier choice than tomato juice. But in her mom’s case, it certainly was. And it was one more indication that the effects of the one-fanged vampire were disappearing from their lives.
“It’ll be nice to have some clothes that fit,” Judy said, pulling the checked green and white sweater she’d borrowed from Aunt Janet away from her ribs to show how much extra room there was. “And thanks to you two, a few more stylish things.”
“No problem, Mrs. Nyland,” Cali said. “I just wish I could have talked you into that pink and gray zigzag hoodie.”
Judy laughed. “I think I’m a tad too old, Cali. But I appreciate the thought.”
Her mom’s laughter warmed Leesa almost as much as one of Rave’s kisses. She could not even remember the last time she’d heard her mom laugh before today.
A thick cloud drifted in front of the sun, and the temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. Leesa set her soda down between her legs and zipped up her sweatshirt. “Do you think you got everything you need, Mom?”
“I think so.” She lifted the collar of a mocha-colored wool overcoat part way out of one of the bags. “If I had scissors, I’d wear this right now.”
Cali rummaged through her rainbow-hued embroidered handbag and took out a small black penknife. “Will this do?”
Judy took the knife and carefully sliced the tags off the coat, dropping them into the bag. “Thank you, Cali.” She pulled Aunt Janet’s sweater over her head and quickly donned the overcoat. She buttoned it up against the chill and then showed it off with a slow pirouette. “How do I look?”
“You look great, Mom,” Leesa said, smiling broadly. “Really great.”
“Thanks, sweetheart.” She sat back down. “This has been wonderful. It’s been ages since I’ve done anything like this.”
Leesa searched her mom’s face for any sign of distress, any sign she remembered why it had been ages since she’d done anything like this, but she seemed to be making the same kind of matter-of-fact comment anyone might make. Leesa smiled again. She wanted her mom looking forward, not back—wanted her to enjoy the future free from bad memories, guilt or shame. It seemed now there was a good chance that could happen.
“You know what would make all this even more wonderful?” Judy asked. “If Bradley were here. Where is your brother, anyway?”
Leesa fought hard to keep her smile. With all her mom had gone through, there was no way she was going to burden her with her concerns about Bradley. A one-fanged vampire had already wreaked too great a toll on her family—she was not about to tell her mom that Bradley might have been taken away by a two-fanged one. If only she could find a way to somehow bring him back. She needed to talk to Rave about it again.
“Bradley’s been away for a while, Mom,” she said evenly. “I’m not sure when he’ll be back.”
Judy looked disappointed, but thankfully, not worried.
“That’s too bad. I hope I get to see him soon.”
“So do I, Mom. So do I.”
Breathless (Blue Fire Saga #1) Page 29
