Page 5

“Adam?”

“No, Mom. It’s me, Jake.”

“Jake?”

“Yes. Jake, your son.”

“You look just like my husband, Adam. You must be an airman, too. You pilots all have that look,” she said, pride brimming in her watery blue eyes.

She looked so much older than her years. Her thinning brown hair was greasy and streaked with silver. It fell in limp strands over her boney shoulders. Jake tamped down the anger her protruding bones and sallow skin evoked.

He knew it wasn’t Wade’s fault.

Jake’s mother had been an empty shell of a woman ever since his father walked out on them years ago. Wade had done his best, for both of them.

Jake swallowed his resentment and tried again. “Mom, I’m here to see you. I’m your son.”

She vehemently shook her head. “No. No. I don’t have a son. Not yet anyway. We’re expecting.” Her hands moved to caress her flat stomach and for a moment she paused, caught between two worlds.

That was always the hardest part for Jake, and if he was honest, it’s why he seldom visited. It was easier to send money and communicate through Wade, than acknowledge the woman who gave birth to him was lost, caught somewhere between the past and the present.

Conjuring patience, Jake tried again. “Yes, you do. His name is Jacob Miller Shepard. He lives in Washington D.C. He’s an FBI agent who protects people, and he came here because you need protection.”

She looked confused. “I have Adam to protect me.”

“No, Mom. You don’t. He hasn’t protected you or me or anyone in a long time. Wade is the one here taking care of you every day.”

“Wade.” It was reassuring to hear the inkling of recognition in her voice.

“Yes, Wade, your brother. And I’m Jake.”

“Jake?” She tried the name on for size, seeming not to accept or reject it this time. “And you want to protect me?”

Hoping he was finally getting through to her he slowly nodded. “Yes.”

“From what?”

Jake fought the emotion crowding his throat. “From yourself.”

“I don’t understand.”

Jake let his gaze fall to the fresh white bandages on her wrists, the dried blood still beneath her fingernails. “Mom, you tried to hurt yourself.”

She began to tremble. “No. No … I wouldn’t do that. Not to Adam. Not to our baby.”

“But you did. Wade found you in the bathroom. Do you remember what you tried to do?”

She didn’t respond and Jake hated himself for pushing her, but he needed to break through to her so she’d agree to be admitted and get the help she desperately needed. “Mom, you smashed a mirror and used a piece of it to slit your wrists.”

She looked down, shock making her papery skin paler as she seemed to notice the bandages for the first time. “No! No! NO!” Her voice rose to a wail of indecipherable shrieks as she clawed at the bandages.

Jake was instantly on his feet ready to restrain her, but the moment he touched her she went feral, clawing at him like her life depended on it. The bedroom door burst open, and Wade rushed in carrying a small portable cassette deck. The twang of Peggy Lee blared over his mother’s howling as Wade pushed his way into the room.

Jake watched in awe as the music instantly interrupted Helen’s tantrum. Wade set the cassette deck down on the rickety bedside table and took his sister in his arms, rocking her in a slow two-step until she laid her head on his shoulder.

She went catatonic as Wade crooned along with the lyrics. “Yes, it’s a good day from morning ‘til night. A good day from morning ‘til night.”

When the song was over Wade gently helped her into the twin-sized bed in the corner and pulled the crocheted brown and pink quilt up to her chin. He placed a kiss on his sister’s forehead as she closed her eyes and then motioned to Jake it was time to go.

Following his uncle out of the room, Jake looked back over his shoulder at his mother in the sliver of golden light cast by the closing door. It was like glimpsing a stranger.