Page 145 of Charity's Redemption

He released me as I brushed past Vito and my parents, then walked them outside towards the sunny patio.

The honeysuckle vines climbing the home had dried up from the cooler weather and left behind only remnants, much like my relationship with my mother. It had withered and died the day she walked through that jail hall and accused me of cutting down her baby boy.

“We can sit here.” I pointed to the sky blue patio furniture.

My mother and father took the bench while I sat across from them in the chair with a coffee table between us.

“You look good,” my father said.

“Thank you.”

“I mean, she looks better than she did in jail.”

Here we go.

It didn’t matter how long I stayed away from her, her judgy disposition reigned supreme and plowed through any facade she donned, eventually.

“How kind, mother.”

“Lynnet, please.”

She held her hand up, pumping the invisible brakes. “You’re right. You’re right. I’m sorry.”

My ears bled as those words fell from her lips. Who in the world sat before me, where she’d let my father scold her?

“I saw you put your house up for sale,” my father said.

I leaned back in my chair and crossed my legs, resting my hands on the armrests while my finger tapped gently against the metal.

“I accepted an offer on it the other day.”

“That’s great.” He nodded. “Where are you moving to?”

“Here.”

My mother’s face went pale, contrasting the bright red that scorched her cheeks, causing a slow smile to creep across my face.

“Before you’re married?” My mother touched her chest, playing with the buttons on her collared dress as if I’d committed the most egregious sin.

“Yep.” I said, popping the P.

“How’s the shop?” my father said, turning the topic before it got out of hand.

He knew my mother all too well, just like I did. If we allowed her to continue commenting on the topics that irked her the most, she’d never shut up.

“It’s doing well.”

I hadn’t stepped foot in it in over two weeks, only going in to fill out orders for restocking and checking on Justine and Caroline.

“Wasn’t that Christopher’s shop?”

“The vagabond you set me up on a date with and suggested he take me to the carnival? That Christopher?” I rolled my eyes at her. “Yes.”

“I wonder what happened to him.”

A knife sliced his throat as he tried to save my life.

“He moved.”

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