Page 112 of The Lone Wolf Café
The mayor. My stomach twisted in anticipatory knots. I knew that when we awoke tomorrow and faced the rest of the town, our fate would truly be decided. The witches that helped us tonight viewed us as heroes, and I hoped that eventually, the rest of the town would feel the same.
The door slammed shut as Adrian left, and me, Rowena, and my mother were left alone in the suffocating silence of the café.
Rowena settled into the high-backed chair next to me, knowing what was about to unfold.
Tomorrow, we would meet with the town and discuss the aftermath of our successful mission. But tonight, I was sitting across from my sorrowful, exhausted mother for the first time in fifteen years.
And I needed answers.
Our gazes found each other, and I studied those tired, wrinkled eyes again. She was a beautiful woman, pale-skinned and fiery-haired with bright green eyes. I was certain that when she was happy, when there was a smile on her face, the traces of her youth shined through. But right now, she looked like she hadn’t slept for days.
Or sleptwellfor years.
My mother opened her mouth and closed it again several times, mustering up the courage to speak.
“I imagine you have a lot of questions.” My mother’s voice was strained and tense as she stated the obvious. She was quiet, not quite whispering but lower than normal conversation volume. As if it hurt to speak. “Why don’t we start wi–”
“Where were you!?”
I snapped my mouth shut, clenching my teeth in regret. A few minutes ago, I had been completely calm, lulled into a trance by both my exhaustion and the pain-relieving tonics Adrian had given me. But now, I felt like I was about to explode. With anger, tears, or both.
“N-Nettie...” I could see the emotion welling in those tired eyes. “I know you–”
“You’ve been gone for fifteen years! I had to raise my sisters all by myself!”
“Sweetheart, I…”
“We thought you were dead!”
My mother broke into sobs again, and I could feel hot, salty tears forming in the corners of my raging eyes.
“Nettie…” Now it was Rowena who spoke up. She reached across the end table, her arm brushing my empty coffee cup, and squeezed my hand.
She inhaled deeply before she spoke. “I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through right now. I know it’s tough, and you’re processing a lot of emotions. But I think you should let your mother speak.”
I inhaled too, my breath catching in my throat as I fought back tears. Rowena was right. I was a tangled mess of emotions at that moment.
When I was young, I used to imagine what would happen if I could see my mother again. Either in a dream, or in the afterlife, or through some miraculous reincarnation. I replayed what I would do and say over and over again in my mind. But no matter the daydream, it always began the same – with me joyously throwing my arms around my mother in a loving embrace, telling her how much I missed her.
How much I loved her.
It was nothing like reality. My mother was here,alive, and when I first encountered her in the pumpkin patch, I could barely even return her hug. And now, she was sitting right in front of me, ready to answer fifteen years of burning questions, and I’d just yelled at her.
I’d made her cry.
I felt like a horrible daughter.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, fearing that if I spoke at a normal volume, I’d burst into tears. “Please, continue.”
Rowena gave my hand another squeeze, and I reciprocated.
Gods, I was so grateful for her.
“A-alright.” My mother paused for a moment, shifting in her seat and fiddling with her calloused fingers in her lap. She seemed to be thinking of what to say next.
“First of all,” she continued a few seconds later. “I see that you’ve discovered your powers.”
I nodded. “Yes. Rowena explained that I’m an empath. That my magic lies in emotions.”
