Page 127 of Brambles and Bellflowers
“Ah—” I shook my head. I knew exactly where her thoughts had gone. “Not financially. They have their own ‘legacy’ and titles. They don’t want my money. My mother is sick, and they needed me.”
“Sick?”
“Um—” I flushed, looking at the dark ground. “Mentally.”
There was a short silence before Bianca replied, “Oh.”
“She’s managing better now.” I shrugged. “Colette took charge of things when my grandparents couldn’t. I stayed there for three years. I would have moved there…” My voice trailed off as the figures ran through my head. “Well, I moved there about the same time you were adopted.”
My heart sank. I wasn’t here to help Julian. And, even if they had brought Bianca to us, I wouldn’t have been here either.
“Anyway,” I continued, shaking my head. I had no choice but to figure it out. “Kathleen became like a grandmother to me when I was here.”
“That must have been nice.” Her voice was so low I almost missed it, and a pang shot through my chest. Kathleen had been Bianca’s grandmother too—at least legally—and she had never even been given the chance to know her.
“Kathleen made amazing chocolate chip cookies,” I offered. “I made them for you before. We can make them together next time. I know you’d be good at it.”
“Um…” she began, and stopped walking. Her fingers were trembling over mine, and I looked at her. “Can I ask you something?”
I lifted my brow even though she wasn’t looking. Her focus, instead, was trained to the forest floor. “Yeah?”
“Why does everyone keep saying this stuff?” she asked. “You knew exactly what I was going to do with the flowers. You said I was ‘tenderhearted.’ ”
“Yeah…” I began, unsure. How could you explain something that was instinct? I might not remember all the details, but some things were familiar. And this was our standard, our pattern.
“I don’t remember,” she admitted.
“Well,” I shrugged. I didn’t recall much either, but sometimes—when you got used to it—it was something you just knew.
It was the same way I knew she was scary and could be evil. But then there was the softer side of her, a sense of gentleness and humanity, that made the rest of us want to keep her safe.
“It’s obvious.” My words sounded weak.
“Can you stop saying that t-too?” Her question broke on the last word. She let go of my hand and turned to me as she twirled a lock of her hair around her finger.
“Why?” I asked. This was who we were.
“We’re not the same,” she said.
“We’ve been over this before,” I reasoned as my stomach twisted. “You know that’s not true.”
“I—” she began, biting her lip. “I’m not.”
What was she talking about?
I set the lantern on the ground and pulled her to me until she was pressed against my chest. She didn’t push back but raised her hands between us.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“He’s—” Her hands were shaking as she twisted them in my shirt. “He’s so much s-stronger than me. I can’t…”
“What are you talking about?” I asked her, holding her to me. “You already are,” I said, breathing her in. My chest grew tight. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. You’reMu,” I emphasized.
“Mu…” Her voice had lost its sharp edge, her shaking stilling, almost as if my words stirred a memory.
“You’re strong,” I told her. “And resilient. I’ve never known anyone braver.”
It was true. Despite everything, she was stillrelativelynormal. Yes, she had her quirks, and there was some damage, but she pressed forward despite her discomfort.
