“I think you’d better go.” Then she muttered, “We should have watched the time”—as if it would have helped, with the clocks stopped by the storm.
He nodded, slipped out of bed, and began to pull on his clothes.
It seemed they had just taken one giant step backward.
Chapter 13
Distraught, Amanda knocked on her daughter’s bedroom door before entering. “Cece. We need to talk. May I come in?”
“I don’t want to talk. It’s not right—what you did.” Cecelia tried to push her away.
“What isn’t right?”
“Sam’s mom says people who aren’t married shouldn’t sleep in the same bed. It’s like in those pictures. The icky stuff. That’s what happens.” She burst into tears. “It’s so icky.”
“I know what she says, but Sam’s mom isn’t always right, Cece. Please let me explain.”
“No! I know what he did! He shouldn’t have! You shouldn’t have let him!”
Amanda pulled Cecelia into her arms. “Listen to me. Don’t you remember when we talked about this? And I said sometimes when people love each other, they snuggle together even before they are married? I love Marcus, Cece. That’s why we—that’s why I let him sleep over. I want you to understand. It wasn’t wrong.” But I haven’t told him I love him. And, really, was there any reason she should, if she couldn’t make Cece see that what she had with Marcus was a healthy physical and emotional relationship? What she’d always wanted with the right person? Wasn’t he that person?
Her daughter stared intently at her, biting her lower lip. “Are you going to do it again?”
“That’s not something I will decide right now. It’s time for breakfast. And I want you to tell me all about what you did at Sam’s house.” She went to the door.“Come downstairs and help me with breakfast. Was Skipper good at Sam’s?”
Breakfast was quieter than Amanda had expected until the phone rang. She listened for a minute then handed it to her daughter. “Marcus wants to talk with you.”
“No.” Cecelia scowled and shook her head. “I don’t want to talk to him.”
“Cece, you know that’s not polite. Ask him what he wants…nicely.”
She took the phone from Amanda with a sigh. “What do you want?”
His voice was loud in the phone. “We were going to start a new story. Do you still want me to come over so we can do that?”
Cece took a bite of her muffin. “What story were we going to read?”
“Brighty. You know, about the burro.”
“One of my favorites. But, I’m mad at you, Marcus.”
“I’m sorry about that. My dad told me once it’s not good to hold grudges. Can we still read the story—even if you’re mad at me?”
She pursed her lips then nodded her head slowly. “Okay. Can we do that tomorrow?”
“Yes, that would be good. I’d like that.”
She handed the phone back to her mother. “He’s coming over tomorrow so we can read Brighty.”
“I heard. That’s a nice story.” Amanda sighed. Maybe I got through to her.
The next day, Marcus kicked the soccer ball in Cecelia’s direction. Skipper chased it, barking, until Cecelia ordered him onto the porch. The dog whined and watched the ball as she and Marcus kicked it back and forth.
“You said we were going to read Brighty. Let’s do that now,” Cecelia said.
“Here on the porch?”
She nodded. “Mom! We’re on the porch!”
“I hear you, Cece,” her mother replied from inside the house. “Please use your polite voice.”
They alternated reading pages. When they were nearly done with the first chapter, Cecelia turned and stared into Marcus’ face. She seemed to be studying him, her expression serious, her blue eyes wide.
“My mom told me she loves you.Do you love her?”
Taken aback at her question, Marcus felt his pulse start to climb. He stammered, “I—I—”
“She said she loves you and that’s why she let you sleep over.” Before he could answer, she continued, “But if you didn’t say you love her back, then you shouldn’t have—” Her face turned fiery red.
He raised a hand to his forehead, caught completely offguard.“Cece—I—” She says she loves me? But she hadn’t told him that. Maybe because he hadn’t said it to her, not in so many words. And now he was speechless.
Tears flooded Cece’s eyes and slid down her cheeks.
“Why didn’t you tell my mom you love her?” Her voice rose when he didn’t answer, unsure whether he should tell the child when he hadn’t made his feelings clear to her mother.