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“Hello. Can I help you? I thought I heard someone out here and looked through the peep hole and saw you standing there. Are you lost, dear?” After a second smile was offered, I realized this must be Andrew’s mother. The physical resemblance really became obvious when she smiled so warmly.
“Hello. I was hoping to speak to Andrew. Is he home?” I somehow managed to say after choking on the greeting twice.
The woman tilted her head but couldn’t hold my gaze. She was struggling with something. I could see her throat constricting as she tried, in vain, I might add, to hold back tears. When she finally did look at me directly, the unmistakable sheen of unexpressed emotion was in her gentle eyes.
Instantly my stomach plummeted all the way to my toes and bounced back like a rubber ball. Something was wrong. I could nearly smell the sadness wafting from the woman. I wanted to step forward and wrap her in my arms more than anything. I just couldn’t be sure if it was to comfort her or me in that moment.
My gut was screaming at me that something was terribly wrong and she didn’t want to be the one to tell me. Everything about the woman’s body language said bad news was coming down and I’d better brace for impact.
So many thoughts flashed through my mind in a millisecond. From possible things that could’ve happened right down to how did his mother get here from Nebraska? Andrew hadn’t mentioned her planning a visit, and the night I spent at his house, we had had a lengthy conversation about his relationship with the woman. Even though there were many miles between them, they remained close. Especially after his father’s untimely death.
Finally, she grimaced and asked, “I’m sorry, dear, how do you know my son?”
I was trembling, and my voice betrayed me when I said, “Did something happen? Is he okay? Where is he?” I had only intended the first question. The second and third leaped from my mouth of their own accord. “I’m sorry,” I gushed. “I’m not meaning to be rude.”
I quickly realized she wasn’t going to tell me anything until I qualified how I fit into her son’s life. So I thrust out my hand and offered an introduction.
“I’m so sorry,” I insisted again. “My name is Maye Farsey. Dr. Chaplin is my mentor. The professor for my summer internship at the university.” Shit. Should I not have admitted I was his student? Maybe if I seemed too emotionally invested, now she would get suspicious. Had he mentioned me to his mother in any capacity?
Her hands were frailer than I expected from the rest of her appearance. Her grip was gentle and unsteady, and I met her sad eyes while we shook.
Again, with no thought, I blurted, “Is he here? Is something wrong?”
“Maybe you should come inside, dear.” She stood back from where she had been blocking the entrance.
I looked back to the driveway before accepting her invitation.
With a thumb gesture over my shoulder, I explained, “My sister is waiting for me in the car. Let me tell her we are going to be a few minutes, okay?”
“Yes, all right. I’ll go put on some tea. Please, invite her in too. I’d hate for her to sit out in the car while we talk.” Andrew’s mother shuffled off toward the kitchen without waiting for my reply, so I pulled the door closed and hustled back to the driveway to speak to Shepperd.
My twin was busy on her cellphone, so I tapped on the glass, and she jolted.
Sorry, I mouthed while she glared my way and put the window down.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” I said.
But my sister wasn’t one to forgive easily. Rather than absolve me from a genuine accident, she forged ahead with her own questions.
“Was he there? What did he say? Where has he been? Why hasn’t he called or texted?” She fired the questions so rapidly, I didn’t stand a chance of getting a word in to explain.
When I was sure she was done, I grinned. It was a strange reaction given what I was about to tell her, but my expression was in relation to her specifically. When I saw these little glimmers of her nicer, kinder persona leak out through her protective shell’s cracks, I held out hope we’d all get our Shepperd back one day. My twin was fiercely loyal and equally protective of the people she loved.
“His mother answered the door.” On the fingers peeking out from the end of my cast, I ticked off, “I know for a fact that she lives in Nebraska and that Andrew didn’t mention a single word about her coming for a visit. But no, he’s not here, and she invited us inside to explain. She didn’t want you to sit out here in the car, so pleeeaaase, Shep, come inside with me?”
Whether she was truly considering her actions or just enjoying torturing me, I couldn’t tell. Normally I had the girl’s number and could read her better than anyone else. But my own nerves were baked, and I couldn’t focus on anything but the way my heart thundered beneath my rib cage.
Shepperd let out a dramatic sigh and turned off the engine. I backed away from the car so she could get out and lock the doors. We walked inside the front door without knocking this time, and I could hear the sound of a kettle whistling from the kitchen.
“In here,” I said quietly to my sister and led the way.
Once we stood at the island, I introduced my sister to the elderly woman. Her genuine smile coaxed something similar from Shep, and I was reminded of how beautiful my sibling was. She had always had a soft spot for old people, and it was amazing to see something was still as I knew it within her.
I was desperate for answers. The drawn-out process of pouring tea into cups and fussing about trying to find where her son kept the cream and sugar was about to make me lose my patience. Finally, I had to ask the question burning my heart to smoldering ash.
“Can you please tell me what happened? Where is Andrew?” I asked as kindly as I could manage.
“I got a call a few nights ago.” She paused to jog her memory. “Shoot, I don’t even know what day it is. They’ve all blended together since I got here.” She sipped her tea, and I noticed the way she trembled. I didn’t know much about the woman or her general health, so I assumed she was exhausted.
