Part 4 (1/2)
Bibi turned. ”Mornin', honey. That's Tucker. Tuck, say hi to Miss Faith.”
Tucker just stared, his tongue still out, balancing a Cheerio.
”Tuck. Are you a good boy?”
He turned to Bibi, pulling his tongue in. The Cheerio stuck to his chin. He nodded.
”Then be polite. Say hi to Miss Faith.”
”Hi,” he whispered, and covered his face with his hands. She did the same, covering her own face. She didn't know why; it just felt like a thing to do.
And it was a right thing. Tucker threw his hands wide and grinned, his eyes squinching up. ”PEE-BOO!” he yelled and then giggled like a little maniac.
d.a.m.n, he really was adorable. Faith's heart ached, and she blinked before the burning behind her eyes could become something more.
Bibi came over then with a scrambled egg, a wedge of toast, and a half a piece of bacon on a little plate shaped like an airplane. She set it down on the tray, right on top of the Cheerio installation Tucker had been working on. ”You want milk or juice, Tuck?”
”Mook, peez.”
”That's Granny's good boy. Milk it is.” Bibi turned to Faith. ”You want some breakfast, honey? Coffee's fresh, bacon's fried, and I got plenty of eggs.”
Faith picked up a piece of bacon from a plate near the range and started to pick at it. She didn't think she could face sitting at the table with this little family and having a cozy breakfast. ”No, thanks. I'll just have this and coffee. I want to get to the hospital when visiting hours start.” Then she asked the question that was burning itself into her brain. ”Is Michael up?”
Bibi had been pouring Faith a cup of coffee. She stopped and let the pot hover for a second before she answered. ”No, honey. He was up and out early this mornin'.”
”Avoiding me.”
”It's a lot to spring on him, Faith. You know what he's like.” She put the carafe back in its spot and handed Faith the mug.
”I know what he was like.”
”He's the same as he was-if anythin', he's worse. There's a lot of darkness in that boy. He fights it, and there's sweetness in him, too, almost a purity. But he doesn't always win. And now he really knows what kind of damage he can do when he loses control. We all know. So he runs before he loses it. You can't push Demon. Let him come to you. And then we'll see what we see.”
”Does he know?”
For a few seconds, Bibi simply looked her over, giving her an evaluative consideration that Faith remembered well. ”He doesn't know anythin' you said you didn't want him to know. That was a good instinct. It still is. I think knowin' more is more than he can handle. So when you do talk to him, you think about that before you start diggin' into old wounds.”
Faith hated Bibi's tone. The secret they had wasn't her fault. It was an injury done to her-and to Michael-and Bibi was talking like Faith was to blame somehow. Well, f.u.c.k that.
She shoved the nearly-full mug across the counter toward Bibi and dropped the remains of the piece of bacon she'd been taking apart. ”I'm going to wash up and go to the hospital. Can I use one of your bathrooms?”
Bibi barely hesitated before she answered, ”Sure, baby. The bathroom across from the room you slept in. In the closet, there's new toothbrushes, deodorant, shampoo, everythin'. We're practically a hotel. Will you be comin' back and stayin' here?”
When she'd woken, she'd thought that she wanted to stay. To be here, with family, with Michael so close. But now, feeling raw and defensive-and abandoned, too, though that was dumb-she wasn't sure. She guessed that she'd have to drive back to her loft soon and pack up some things. It looked like she might have to stay in Madrone for at least a few days. She'd wait until she knew what was going on with her mother before she made that decision.
”Um, I don't know. I guess I'll work all that out after I know what's going on with Mom. And if she even wants me around.”
”She does, baby. Trust me.” Bibi squeezed her hand. ”Let me know when you know anythin'. I'll come by the hospital this afternoon, while Tuck's at speech therapy.”
”Speech therapy?” She looked at the pretty, happy little boy who was putting Cheerios on top of his eggs, placing each one carefully. ”How old is he?”
”Two and a half, and he's just startin' to talk. He was slow to walk, too, but he figured that out. He didn't get a great start in life, so we're givin' him some help up the curve.”
Faith had a lot of questions about this little boy and the circ.u.mstances that had Michael and Tucker living here with Bibi and Hoosier, but they were questions she wanted to ask Michael, no one else.
She hoped he'd give her the chance. He didn't need to run. He didn't have to back away, not anymore. Maybe those ten years felt like nothing, but they meant everything-or they could, if he now wanted what she wanted the way he'd once wanted what she'd wanted.
Her mother was awake and alert-and lucid-when Faith arrived a few minutes after visiting hours began. She was still restrained to the bed, though, and it was almost more painful to see her in restraints when her eyes were clear and looked at her with recognition.
At first, she stood in the doorway and simply looked. Her mother was turned to the window. The wild frenzy she'd been in last night was gone, and she no longer looked insane. Now, she was simply a small, aging but still pretty woman who'd been in an accident. Her broken leg was in traction. A nurse must have taken the time to brush out her blonde hair.
”Mom?”
Her mother turned at the sound of her voice, and Faith knew for sure that she was fully present and recognized her. But she didn't smile. Or have any expression at all.
”Where's Sera?”
It had been nearly ten years since Faith and her mother had spoken, and still, the first thing her mother thought about was Faith's sister. She shouldn't care. She'd left for a reason. For many reasons. She didn't even like her mother. But that still stung. ”In j.a.pan, Mom. She got transferred. Remember?”
”Of course I remember. I'm not an idiot. Why isn't she here now?”
Because Sera's career was the most important thing in her life, and she didn't like their mother all that much more than Faith did. Sera had been Margot's clear favorite, and Faith had always fallen short of her sister's mark, but being the favorite had come with its own special brand of baggage, and Sera had been happy to cast it away. There was a reason she'd gone to college on the other side of the country, and there was a reason she'd taken a job with an international company. Faith didn't even know if Sera planned to come home at all. ”j.a.pan's a long way away. I don't know if she can get here.”
Margot nodded and looked back out the window.
Faith was still standing in the doorway. She didn't feel welcome enough to go farther into the room, but she didn't feel like she could leave, either. ”Is there anything I can do?”
”They won't let me leave until they do a bunch of tests. They won't let me have my arms free. I don't know what happened.”
”You got hit by a car.”
”I know that. They told me, and that's exactly what I feel like. I don't know why I don't remember. I don't know why they've got me tied up. Did you give them permission for all this s.h.i.+t?”
Faith nodded. ”I think that's why they want to do the tests-to figure out what happened last night.” Part of her wanted to tell her mother how she'd been last night, raving and naked, but that part of her was a spiteful and hurting child, and Faith shut it down.
”Well, that's just great. You show up here out of the blue and get me practically committed. Thanks for that.” She sighed. ”I need some stuff from home, then. Call Bibi and ask her to put me a bag together. I know you talk to her.”
She heard the way her mother hit the word 'her,' but she ignored it. ”Bibi was here with me last night. She's coming by again today. She's taking care of Tucker, so it'll be later.”
Finally, Margot looked at her daughter with something like interest. Her blue eyes had an avid sheen. ”You saw that little boy? You know whose he is?”
In that moment, Faith remembered the kind of hatred she'd once felt for this woman. The way she'd felt when she'd clutched her claws into Faith's shoulders and snarled into her ear to Watch. You watch, little s.l.u.t, and see what you've done. You watch it all. The way she'd felt a few weeks after that night, on the day her parents had done something even worse, and she'd known for a certainty that she'd leave at the first chance she had to be free of her mother, and of her father, and of that whole life.
”Yes. I know he's Michael's.”