Page 3 of Fierce Lies
"She's managing."
His look told me he didn't believe me for a second. Word travelled fast in small towns like Shenton, where his parents and sister still lived. Where I'd returned to after college when my mom had started declining.
"You said there was inconsistencies with his death, right?" I opted to change the subject.
"Yes, although I doubt there's anything there. Big cities like Ironstone have lots of paperwork, so errors happen."
"Right." Had the slightest whisper of foul play niggled at the back of my mind? Maybe. I knew it was common when money was involved. But I was most likely looking for monsters where there likely weren't any. I was just upset and angry, especially with what Trent had just revealed to me.
I needed to wrap my head around it all, and then figure out where to go from here.
I gathered the folders, my fingers trembling slightly. "Thank you, Trent. I know you did more than you had to given how little I could give you, both information and money wise."
"Elena." He gave me a sad, sorrowful look. "What are you planning to do with this information?"
I pulled away gently. "I don't know yet. I still need to come to terms with it all."
2
ELENA
The hospital corridor smelled of antiseptic and despair. I nodded to the night nurse, Marjorie, as I passed the station. After six months of regular visits, we no longer needed words.
I balanced a bouquet of lilies as I navigated to room 312. Mom loved Lilies, but they cost far too much sometimes. Thankfully, the local florist had taken pity on me, although she'd never tell me that, and always marked them down for me when I came in every few weeks to buy a new bouquet for my mom. I appreciated it, especially since money was tight. But paying that extra for the flowers she loved in a time like this felt right, even if I had to skip some meals for it.
Each visit, the hallway seemed longer, the walk more daunting. Each time, the same unease churned in my gut, a dislike for these walls and the smells making itself known. I hated what hospitals meant to me now. How it was place where my mother was fighting for her life, a place where I could lose her.
I blinked, shoving the thought aside as I drew in a few deep, grounding breaths over the lilies, focusing on their scent. Sheneeded me strong, to keep it together. I needed to be here for her, as she'd always been for me.
Mom was asleep when I entered her room, the steady beep of monitors providing grim background noise. A chill washed over me as I took in her form, my throat tightening.
She looked smaller than last week, her body disappearing into the hospital bed. The cancer was stealing her from me, consuming her from the inside out. Her eyes, once sky-blue like mine, now dulled by medication and pain, were peacefully closed thanks to her medication. Her once vibrant red-brown hair had thinned, turning a dull gray that matched her skin tone.
I hated seeing her like this, a ghost of the woman who had played games with me at night, who had taught me to bake and laughed alongside me while we danced in the kitchen.
I wanted my mom back, well and smiling, full of life and energy.
But life was never fair, and I bit my lip to keep it from trembling.
I replaced the wilting lilies in the vase on her bedside table, smiling softly at the wornHarry Potterbook there. She'd asked me to bring the series in, the same ones she'd read to me, the pages creased from where we'd dog-eared them over the years, and the covers worn from our love. Her insurance card sat in plain view beside it, a reminder of the bills piling up at home, which made my smile fade.
I sighed as I sunk into the chair beside her bed.
"Hey, Mom," I whispered, not sure whether to try to actually rouse her or not. "I got some news today."
Her breathing remained steady, shallow.
"Anthony's gone, my dad." My voice was hollow as I said the words out loud. "He died twelve years ago."
"You never really told me if he'd ever come back, you always tried to make me focus on how good our life was with just us,but I always hoped he'd come back. You'd then tell me that he just had... a busy life, some other things he needed to handle." I swallowed hard. "Guess those other things were that he was married, had other kids…" I searched her sleeping face, my chest tight. "Did you know? Were you keeping it from me?"
Her face shifted, her brows creasing as she stirred, and my heart fluttered as her eyes slowly opened. Had she heard me? Was she upset?
"Hey, Mom." I forced brightness into my voice and took her hand while she took a moment to orient herself. Her skin felt like tissue paper, veins prominent beneath the surface.
It didn't appear she'd heard me though as she relaxed, her gaze softening as the edges of her lips curled.
"Elena. You didn't have to come today." Her smile was genuine despite everything, and guilt crept in. If she'd kept anything from me, it was to protect me. It had to be.
