Page 101 of Marked

I let go of Zack’s hand and climb up the steps into Mom’s waiting arms. She wraps herself around me, hugging me tightly and swaying just a bit.

“I’m so glad you came. I’ve been worried about you,” she says, patting my back before pulling away. “Come in. I have dinner all ready.”

I follow her inside, holding the door for Zack until he grabs it from me.

Lasagna.

I inhale the scent of my childhood.

Mom made lasagna on our birthday every year. It was the one meal we both loved.

“Come in the kitchen, I just need to mix the salad.” She leads us through the house to the kitchen in the back.

The lasagna sits on the stove, steam still rising from the dish. I inhale, letting the warmth of my childhood rush over me.

When I open my eyes, Mom’s staring at me.

“Honey?” She picks up my hand and squeezes. “It’s a shit day, I know.”

A tear slides down my cheek before I can stop it.

“I’m sorry.” I wipe it away.

“No, don’t apologize.” She hugs me again. “Sit, I’ll get some wine.” She smiles and hurries over to the bottle sitting on the counter.

“I’ll open it.” Zack takes the bottle opener from her. “Why don’t you two sit and I’ll pour.”

“Oh. Sure. Thanks.” She steps away from the counter and watches me warily while she sits at the round table.

The same table where Quinn and I ate breakfast every morning with my father before he went to work.

The same table where we ate dinner with my mother, trying not to stare at the empty seat my father left after he died

The same table where my mother and I ate silently for years, pretending there weren’t two empty chairs after Quinn died.

“Did you visit the cemetery today?” Mom asks after several moments tick by.

“No,” I breathe. “Did you?”

“I did.” She nods. “I put out a new basket of flowers for your sister, and left a cigar for your dad.” A whisper of a smile touches her lips. “I was going to ask you to come with me, but you’ve been so hard to get in touch with lately.” She eyes Zack.

Zack pops the cork out of the bottle of white wine and pours two glasses.

“Mom.” I grab her hands in mine. When did they get so thin? She’s always been lean, but all I can feel now is her bones.

“What is it?” she asks when I stay silent. “Oh, thank you, Zack.” She leans back, letting Zack place the wine on the table between us.

“My memory is back,” I say quietly. “All of it.”

Her hands tense.

“I know what…what you meant when you said my name that day.”

Her cheeks blanche.

“Oh. Harley.” She sinks back in her chair, slowly letting go of my hands. “I…was afraid that’s what was happening.”

“Is that why you called Agent Laurens? You figured if I remembered one thing, everything was coming back, and she needed to be warned?” I do my best to temper my tone, but the accusation stands on its own.

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