Page 65 of Welker

“Ah, I see,” Bette guessed. “She’s no longer in the picture.”

Moira decided to be honest. Welker knew her secrets, and if she was going to remain in his life for any length of time, his family would find things out about her soon enough.

“She was never in the picture,” Moira stated, trimming the asparagus with a vengeance. “I was raised in my father’s household.”

She tossed the asparagus into a non-stick skillet with some minced onions, olive oil, and smashed tomatoes, then covered the medley to steam.

“Hmm,” Bette stated, looking at what Moira had just put together. “I may have to bring you one of my cast iron pans,” she mused, changing the subject.

Had she offered because she’d sensed Moira’s discomfort?

“Oh, right, Mom,” Welker interjected sarcastically. “I’ve been asking you for one of those for years, and all I’ve gotten are excuses. Now you’re changing your mind?”

“Don’t be rude, Welker,” Bette stated. “Moira’s obviously never had a mother-figure before, so I’m making it my duty to clasp her to my bosom, and what better way to do that than with a fine piece of cookware?”

Moira couldn’t help it. She snorted. Then laughed. “Oh, my God. Is that what mother’s do?” she finally managed.

“Among other things,” Bette replied astutely, her whole demeanor softening. “You’re under my wing now, young lady, but be warned, I’m not a hands-off kind of woman. I will be mothering you from here on out, because that’s just how I roll.”

Moira didn’t know whether to be amused, or scared for her life. Something told her that Bette would get to the bottom of every secret she’d ever had, and there would be nothing she could do to stop it.

“I’ll, uh, just…take these chops out to the grill,” Moira stated, picking up the plate to save herself.

Bette played her first mom card. “Let Welker do it, Moira. That way we can continue to talk.”

Moira sent Welker a pleading look, but he just smiled and shrugged, holding out his hand for the platter.

“Fine.” Moira thrust it at him with a look that said, later, buddy. He was going to be in so much trouble.

Bette started up the minute the door closed behind Welk, but it wasn’t a continuation of her previous interrogation.

“I’m so pleased for you and Welker,” Bette started sincerely. “I had to see for myself, but Sabira was right. I’ve never seen my boy so happy.”

Moira continued to fuss with the vegetables, then turned to grab plates out of the cupboard with which to set the table. “We’ve only just started…dating,” she warned the woman as she placed the settings around the kitchen divider. Moira was still trying to come to grips with the fact that their fast-tracked relationship might just be serious, on both sides.

“How much has Welker told you about his past?” Bette posed sharply.

“Uh, a lot?” Moira answered uncertainly. They’d been sharing quite a bit over the past week, culminating with the conversations they’d had in bed, earlier.

“So you know how he got his scar.”

“I do.” Moira was on safer ground with that question. Welker hadn’t seemed particularly upset talking about his old injury.

“And do you know that because of it, he felt the need to work his way through as many women as possible to make sure he was still man enough for the female sex?”

What? That was news to Moira. Not the part about Welker having a revolving bedroom door. She’d known that. Hell, she’d been one of the team who’d teased him unmercifully for his nonselective dick.

But what was this about Welk doubting himself?

“He…didn’t mention the lack of confidence part,” Moira admitted. “Are you sure? I’ve never seen him look uncertain before. He has a reputation with the team for flaunting an unflagging ego.”

Bette waved a hand around. “All an act,” she said, her face growing stoic. “When he was first let go by the Navy, he was filled with insecurities. He worried he’d never be able to relax his vigilance again. He was concerned he wouldn’t be worth anything to anybody, including women. It took months for his sister and me to get him to leave the house. And even after that, when he dared go to school, graduated with honors, then passed his exams to become an officer with the BPD, he still harbored his doubts.”

“Well, that’s just awful,” Moira returned, appalled. “What changed?”

“Well, first he was taken under Mason’s wing,” she said with a satisfaction that was unmistakable. “Mase let him know his worth, then introduced him to that group of boys who are now his best friends.”

Moira almost snorted at the term “boys”, but she was too vested in Bette’s story to interrupt.

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