Obsidian Butterfly - Laurell K. Hamilton [47]
14
DONNA STARTED CRYING OUT in the parking lot. Becca joined her. Only Peter stayed silent and apart from the general hysteria. The more Donna cried, the more panicky the girl got, like they were feeding off each other. The girl was crying in those great hiccuppy sobs bordering on hyperventilation. I looked at Edward and raised my eyebrows. He looked blank. I finally gave him a push. He mouthed, “Which one?”
“Girl,” I mouthed back.
He knelt by them. Donna had settled down on the bumper of his Hummer cradling Becca in her lap.
Edward knelt in front of them. “Let me take Becca for a little walk.”
Donna blinked up at him, as if she saw him, heard him, but wasn’t really understanding. He reached for Becca and started prying her from her mother’s arms. Donna’s arms were limp, but the girl clung to her mother, screaming.
Edward literally pried her small fingers away, and when she was free of her mother, Becca turned and clung to him, burying her face in his shoulder. He looked at me over the girl’s head, and I shooed him away. He never questioned, just walked towards the sidewalk that edged the parking lot. He was rocking the girl slowly as he moved, soothing her.
Donna had covered her face with her hands, collapsing forward until her face and hands met her knees. Her sobs were full-blown, almost wails. Shit. I looked at Peter. He was watching her, and the look on his face was disgusted, embarrassed. I knew in that instant that he’d been the adult in more ways than just shooting his father’s killer. His mother was allowed hysterics, but he wasn’t. He was the one who held together in a crisis. Damned unfair, if you ask me.
“Peter, can you excuse us for a few minutes?”
He shook his head. “No.”
I sighed, then shrugged. “Fine, just don’t interfere.” I knelt in front of Donna, touching her shaking shoulders. “Donna, Donna!” There was no response, no change. It had been a long day. I got a handful of that short thick hair and pulled her head up. It hurt, and it was meant to. “Look at me, you selfish bitch.”
Peter moved forward, and I pointed a finger at him. “Don’t.” He settled back a step, but he didn’t leave. His face was angry, watchful, and I knew that he might interfere regardless of what I said if I went much further. But I didn’t have to go further. I’d shocked her. Her eyes were wide, inches from mine, her face drenched with tears. Her breathing was still coming in small chest-heaving gulps, but she was looking at me, she was listening.
I released her hair slowly, and she stayed staring at me with a horrible fascination on her face as if I were about to do something cruel, and I was. “Your little girl has just seen the worst thing she’s ever seen in her life. She was calming down, taking it in stride, until you started on the hysterics. You’re her mother. You’re her strength, her protector. When she saw you fall apart like that, it terrified her.”
“I didn’t mean . . . I couldn’t help . . .”
“I don’t give a shit what you feel or how upset you are. You’re the mommy. She’s the child. You are going to hold yourself together until she is not around to see you fall apart, is that clear?”
She blinked at me. “I don’t know if I can do that.”
“You can do it. You’re going to do it.” I glanced up but didn’t see Edward yet. Good. “You are the grownup, Donna, and you are by God going to act like it.”
I could feel Peter watching us, could almost feel him storing it away for later playback. He would remember this little scene and he would think on it, you could feel it.
“Do you have children?” she asked, and I knew what was coming.
“No,” I said.
“Then what right do you have to tell me how to raise mine?” She was angry now, sitting up straighter,