Page 114 of The Persistence of Thornes
We’re silent the whole way, but I keep my hand on her knee, trying to instill as much comfort in her as I can.
We stop at the security gate and are directed to park in the visitor lot. Then we make our way inside, stopping for the scanners and other checks.
“I can go with them,” I whisper when the boys wander to the vending machine. “Youdon’t have to see her.”
With a sigh, she wraps her arms around herself and rocks back and forth on her heels. For a moment, she doesn’t speak, but eventually, she drops her arms and says, “She’s my mom. I should see her.”
“Shoulddoesn’t mean you have to,” I say as the boys argue over which kind of soda to choose, even though I gave them enough cash for two.
“I know,” she says, voice small, as she curls in on herself. “I know,” she repeats. “And I don’t want to, but who knows when I’ll be back here, you know? I owe it to her to?—”
I press my hands to her cheeks and force her to look at me. “You owe her nothing. You oweno oneanything.”
“I’ll be okay,” she says in a whisper, eyes misty. “Promise.”
Still, I persist. “If, at any time, you’re not okay, then go. I won’t judge you if you have to step out.”
“Thank you.” Her eyes are still watery, but they’re full of relief.
The pain radiating from her guts me, but thank fuck I’m here to support her.
The room is filled with a loud buzzing sound, snagging our attention. A door on the far side opens, and a large man in a dark blue uniform appears. “Emerson family? We’re ready for you.”
The boys dart across the room, soda cans in hand.
“You’ll have to leave that here,” the corrections officer says to the boys.
Unsurprisingly, they chug their drinks and toss them into the trash.
“Do you want me to wait here?” I don’t want to force my presence on Halle when she’s already stressed, but I’ll gladly go and continue offering her all I can.
She grabs my hand, silencing my worries. “No, I need you with me.”
Without speaking, the four of us follow the corrections officer back to an empty private room.
“You guys take the chairs,” Halle tells her brothers, shooing them toward the two chairs set up to face the door her mother will be brought through.
They look at her with narrowed gazes, like they’re going to insist that she should sit, but she gives them a parental look she’s just about mastered, and they slump into them without argument. The two of us find a spot against the wall a foot or two behind them and wait.
About five minutes later—five minutes of nothing but tense silence—the door opens, and a female guard ushers their mom in. She’s thin, her dark hair the same shade as her kids’, though hers has gray streaks. Her face is gaunt and heavily lined, though she’s only in her early forties. I guess it goes to show how much a rough life can affect a person’s appearance.
“Kids.” She smiles at the twins, opening her arms wide.
Casen and Quinn are up and out of their chairs with their arms wrapped around her within seconds.
She squeezes them tight, kissing the tops of their heads. “My boys.”
Beside me, Halle fidgets, but she doesn’t make a move for her mother. I give her hand a squeeze to remind her that I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.
Freya Emerson lets go of the twins, and when she turns her attention to her daughter, her smile drops and her eyes flash with an anger that inspires me to straighten and adjust my stance so I’m slightly in front of Halle, shielding her.
“Halle.” Her mom’s tone is brusque. “Nice of you to finally visit.”
“The boys wanted to come,” she mumbles, releasing my hand and crossing her arms over her chest.
The loss of her touch is almost painful, but I let her do what feels safest for her without argument.
“Well, how kind of you to allow them to see theirmother.” Freya scratches the side of her nose. “It’s good to know I haven’t been entirely replaced.”
