Chapter sixty-three

It was a simple house on a simple street.  It had two stories with gray wooded siding and white shutters.  It was smaller than the house Abbey had shared with her mother in Iowa.  It was the perfect size to raise a young family.

Abbey knew so little of Sloan’s life.  He never really spoke of his childhood.  In a few moments Abbey was sure she was going to get a full immersion.

Sloan stepped out of the Expeditioner then offered his hand to Abbey to help her out.  They were once again surrounded by the black clad entourage that greeted them at the airport as they filed into the tiny house.  Abbey clung to Sloan’s hand as she followed him.

Abbey glanced around the modestly decorated home as they stepped inside.  Sloan released her hand then stopped.  In the living room stood a young woman about thirty years old.  She was as tall as Abbey with long thick black hair that cascaded in curls down her back.  She had the same ice blue eyes Sloan did.

At the sight of Sloan the young woman sobbed.  She threw her arms around him and buried her face in his broad chest.  Sloan wrapped his arms tight around her. 

The woman looked up to Sloan with tear stained cheeks.  “Hello, big brother,” she gasped out.

Sloan fought his own tears as he smiled down to her.  “Hello, baby sister.”

The tears were contagious.  Abbey bit her lower lip to fight the sob struggling to get out as she watched the reunion.

“Maggie, where is Mother?” Sloan pressed.

“Upstairs in her bedroom,” Maggie answered.  “She doesn’t have long.”

Maggie took Sloan by the hand and led him up the stairs.  Abbey looked around the room, feeling very uncomfortable.  She hardly knew anyone here.  Abbey felt a hand on her lower back.  Gordon smiled at her as he nudged her in front of him towards the stairs.

“Come,” Gordon instructed.  “Let’s go.”

Abbey climbed the narrow staircase falling in line with the others who followed the siblings up the stairs.  She briefly stopped to examine a photo of three children, two boys and an infant girl each with jet black hair and ice blue eyes.  Without a doubt Abbey knew the middle child was her husband.  The baby had to be Maggie.  Who was the older boy?  Another nudge from Gordon encouraged her to keep going.

A crowd gathered at the door of a room at the end of the hall.  Gordon pushed Abbey through the crowd until they reached the doorway.

Sloan’s mother had to be the same age as Abbey’s mother.  She laid frail in a large king size bed buried beneath a pile of multi-colored quilts.  Her bones ridged beneath her sunken gray skin.  A knit cap covered her bald head.

It felt like a knife pierced her heart.  Without having to ask Abbey could guess what was killing Sloan’s mother.  Cancer.

Sloan’s mother opened her eyes weakly.  She blinked her eyes several times as she strained to focus on the man standing next to her.  Her sobs echoed through the room as she reached her time arms out Sloan.

Sloan sunk onto the bed, wrapping his powerful arms around his mother’s frail frame.  Abbey could see his large body heave as he buried his face in the curve of his mother’s neck.

“Oh, my boy,” she whimpered.  “Oh my sweet son.”

Sloan sat up and smiled at this mother.  Abbey could see the tears streaking his cheeks.  Abbey fought the urge to rush the room and wrap her arms around her husband to comfort him.  It killed her to see him hurt this much.

Maggie gently sat on the other side of the bed from her brother.  Their mother took each of their hands in hers and held them close to her heart.  Abbey felt Gordon’s hand touch her arm.  “Let’s go check into our hotel.  Give them some time alone.”

Abbey nodded silently.  She turned and started down the hall as Gordon pulled the bedroom door closed.


About triciaandersen

I am the author and illustrator of the children's book "The Peculiar Princess". I am also the author of two adult fantasy romance novels, "The Sorceress of Savon" and "The Woodcutter King of Muladin". Along with being an author I am married to a wonderful guy and have three beautiful children. I coach youth track and field, sew and chase my children around to their various activities.

Posted on July 15, 2012, in author, books, fiction, novel, romance, story, Uncategorized, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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