The Soul Catcher - Alex Kava [104]
“You never believed in me.”
Maggie continued to stare at her. How could the insertion of one little word like “in” make such a world of difference? “I’ve never said that.”
But her mother didn’t seem to hear her. She was going back around the room, opening the window blinds that she had just shut, one after the other. “It was always him. Always him.”
She was ranting, and Maggie knew it was too late to have any semblance of a conversation with her now. But she had no idea who she meant by “him.” This was a new rant. One she didn’t recognize.
“Maybe I should go,” Maggie said, but made no attempt to leave. She only wanted to get her mother’s attention. But her mother was no longer listening. No longer paying attention. This was a mistake.
“It was always him.” This time her mother stopped in front of her, facing her with accusation. “You loved him so much, you have nothing left for any of the rest of us. Not for me. Not for Greg. Probably not even for your cowboy.”
“Okay now, that’s enough.” Maggie wouldn’t put up with this. It was ridiculous. The woman didn’t know what she was even saying.
“He was no saint, you know.”
“Who are you talking about?”
“Your father.”
Maggie’s stomach took a plunge.
“Your precious father,” her mother added as if she needed clarification. “You always loved him more. So much love for him that there was never enough left for the rest of us. You buried it all with him.”
“That’s not true.”
“And he was no saint, you know.”
“Don’t you dare,” Maggie said, immediately disappointed to find the quiver return to her lower lip.
“Dare to tell the truth?” Her mother managed a cruel smile.
Why was she doing this?
“I need to leave.” Maggie turned toward the door.
“He was out fucking his girlfriend the night of the fire.”
It was like a knife had been thrust into her back, stopping her in her tracks, making her turn to face her mother again.
“I had to call her house,” she continued, “when the fire department’s dispatcher called looking for him. Everyone thought he was up sleeping in our bed, but he was in her bed. Her bed, fucking her.”
“Stop it,” Maggie said, but it came out as a whisper, because all the air had suddenly been sucked out of her.
“I never told you. I never told anyone. How could I after he went out that night, ran into that burning building and died a fucking hero.”
“You’re making this up.”
“He got her pregnant. She has a son. His son. The son I never could give him.”
“Why are you doing this? Why are you making this up?” Maggie said, trying to keep the twelve-year-old hurt little girl from surfacing, though in her head, her voice sounded exactly like a child’s. “You’re lying.”
“I thought I was protecting you. Yes, I lied then. But not now. Why would I lie now?”
“To hurt me.”
“To hurt you?” Her mother rolled her eyes, the sarcasm having overpowered any other emotion or response. “I’ve been trying to protect you from the truth for years.”
“Protect me?” Now the anger began to unleash itself. “You call moving me halfway across the country protecting me? You call bringing home strange men to fondle me, protecting me?”
“I did the best I could.” The eyes were darting around the room again, and Maggie knew she had said what she wanted to say and was now looking to retreat, searching to escape.
“You lost a husband that night. But I lost both my parents.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“I lost both my father and my mother. And what did I get in their place? A drunken invalid to take care of. A drunken slut instead of a mother.”
The slap came so suddenly, Maggie didn’t have time to react. She wiped at the sting and was more unnerved by the tears already dampening her cheek.
“Oh, Jesus! Maggie.” Her mother reached for her and Maggie pulled away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“No, don’t.” Maggie raised a hand in warning. She stood straight, avoided her mother’s eyes. “Don’t apologize,” she said, allowing one more swipe at the tears. “This