followed behind.
“Tibo, hurry up.” She waved at him like they were crossing a busy intersection.
He caught up.
She rushed them over to the used Lincoln Aviator Tim’s parents had bought her five years before his crash in the Lexus. They sat silently in the car, waiting for Mom, but the woman took her time moseying from person to person, greeting them as if she had nowhere better to go. She didn’t, but Cassandra needed to be free of this place—now.
“Mom, why did you rush us out of there?” Sophie’s voice wobbled from the back seat. Cassandra knew she hesitated to ask. Always so keen to Cassandra’s emotions. So mature for someone so young, having helped to care for her special-needs brother, and transition to life without a father … or his family’s money. Not to mention all the accusations she’d endured from her paternal grandparents. They never said them to her face, but it was apparent in everything they did. They’d never accepted her little Sophie as their own.
~*~
Sophie’s mom just turned the ignition, practically squealing wheels out of the church parking lot. She never even answered the question Sophie had asked, not even the one in Grandma’s eyes when she finally got into the front seat of the car.
What was that about?
Mom had been on edge from the moment she entered the sanctuary, and now her knuckles were white against the pink of her fingers gripping the steering wheel. She must have had a run-in with the children’s church leader over Tibo.
Sophie glanced to the seat beside her where her little brother smiled at the vehicles passing by. “Fire.” He pointed to an emergency engine.
Sighing, Sophie pulled her hair behind her ears then stared at the Midnight Blue nail polish chipping from the edges of her thumb. She didn’t even know why she painted her nails. It wasn’t like there were any interested boys around she could look good for.
Mom’s eyes darted to Grandma then back on the road. Her jaw hardened as if working tighter against the questions she refused to answer. Could Tibo’s teacher have been that bad?
If only Tibo could talk like other ten-year-old boys. If only he could understand even simple directions. If only he could read, tie his shoes, pull his own covers up on a frigid night. He’d shiver to death before thinking to do that.
If only the world could see him for all he was rather than what he wasn’t.
If only …
Another sigh escaped. It had been Tibo who sat on the arm of the chair and played with her hair as Sophie had sobbed her heart out after they’d found out her Daddy had died. Mom had been too busy retching in the bathroom to comfort her. Tibo’s soft fingers had tugged so gently on the strands it felt like a caress. He’d searched her eyes, his brows scrunched, as if trying to figure out where the tears had come from on her face. “Pway.” His single word meant so much. Reminding her that God was with them. Peace and love seemed to pour from him into her, making her believe everything would be all right.
How could he do that? Only Tibo had such a gift.
The car’s tires crunched over the gravel before Sophie had realized they were home. Mom was out of the car even before the engine stopped rattling, Grandma close behind. “What is wrong with you?”
Mom kept walking as though she could outrun Grandma’s determined strides.
Sophie unclipped Tibo’s seatbelt as his name drifted from their conversation. Grandma never wanted to talk about Tibo’s “issues” in front of him. Did she know how far her voice carried?
Tibo’s eyes communicated thanks before he opened the car door. Good thing that latch wasn’t as tough as Dad’s Lexus’s used to be.
Sophie’s mind flashed to the image of the Lexus mangled by the side of the road as they’d passed it that night. Mom screeched her breaks, got out of the car, and took off running toward the crash scene. A firefighter blocked her flailing body as she screamed Dad’s name
“Tibo, hurry up.” She waved at him like they were crossing a busy intersection.
He caught up.
She rushed them over to the used Lincoln Aviator Tim’s parents had bought her five years before his crash in the Lexus. They sat silently in the car, waiting for Mom, but the woman took her time moseying from person to person, greeting them as if she had nowhere better to go. She didn’t, but Cassandra needed to be free of this place—now.
“Mom, why did you rush us out of there?” Sophie’s voice wobbled from the back seat. Cassandra knew she hesitated to ask. Always so keen to Cassandra’s emotions. So mature for someone so young, having helped to care for her special-needs brother, and transition to life without a father … or his family’s money. Not to mention all the accusations she’d endured from her paternal grandparents. They never said them to her face, but it was apparent in everything they did. They’d never accepted her little Sophie as their own.
~*~
Sophie’s mom just turned the ignition, practically squealing wheels out of the church parking lot. She never even answered the question Sophie had asked, not even the one in Grandma’s eyes when she finally got into the front seat of the car.
What was that about?
Mom had been on edge from the moment she entered the sanctuary, and now her knuckles were white against the pink of her fingers gripping the steering wheel. She must have had a run-in with the children’s church leader over Tibo.
Sophie glanced to the seat beside her where her little brother smiled at the vehicles passing by. “Fire.” He pointed to an emergency engine.
Sighing, Sophie pulled her hair behind her ears then stared at the Midnight Blue nail polish chipping from the edges of her thumb. She didn’t even know why she painted her nails. It wasn’t like there were any interested boys around she could look good for.
Mom’s eyes darted to Grandma then back on the road. Her jaw hardened as if working tighter against the questions she refused to answer. Could Tibo’s teacher have been that bad?
If only Tibo could talk like other ten-year-old boys. If only he could understand even simple directions. If only he could read, tie his shoes, pull his own covers up on a frigid night. He’d shiver to death before thinking to do that.
If only the world could see him for all he was rather than what he wasn’t.
If only …
Another sigh escaped. It had been Tibo who sat on the arm of the chair and played with her hair as Sophie had sobbed her heart out after they’d found out her Daddy had died. Mom had been too busy retching in the bathroom to comfort her. Tibo’s soft fingers had tugged so gently on the strands it felt like a caress. He’d searched her eyes, his brows scrunched, as if trying to figure out where the tears had come from on her face. “Pway.” His single word meant so much. Reminding her that God was with them. Peace and love seemed to pour from him into her, making her believe everything would be all right.
How could he do that? Only Tibo had such a gift.
The car’s tires crunched over the gravel before Sophie had realized they were home. Mom was out of the car even before the engine stopped rattling, Grandma close behind. “What is wrong with you?”
Mom kept walking as though she could outrun Grandma’s determined strides.
Sophie unclipped Tibo’s seatbelt as his name drifted from their conversation. Grandma never wanted to talk about Tibo’s “issues” in front of him. Did she know how far her voice carried?
Tibo’s eyes communicated thanks before he opened the car door. Good thing that latch wasn’t as tough as Dad’s Lexus’s used to be.
Sophie’s mind flashed to the image of the Lexus mangled by the side of the road as they’d passed it that night. Mom screeched her breaks, got out of the car, and took off running toward the crash scene. A firefighter blocked her flailing body as she screamed Dad’s name
Similar Books
Underworld Lover (A Guardian Angel Romance #2)
haron Hamilton
The Folly
M. C. Beaton
Bill Dugan_War Chiefs 04
Quanah Parker
The Prospects
Daniel Halayko
Knockout
John Jodzio
The Case of Lisandra P.
Hélène Grémillon
Clash of Eagles
Alan Smale
Delicate Chaos
Jeff Buick