The Weight of Love

Chapter 13

The next morning, Lila walked quietly to the master bedroom door. She heard no sounds within. She gave a gentle tap, and it creaked open. Her mother was still fast asleep, splayed out in the bedsheets, but Robert was awake, propped against pillows, and he looked at her.

"What do you need, girlie?"

"Good morning," Lila said. She leaned against the door frame. She had been hoping that the events of the previous night would have left him in a charitable mood. "I'm going to the soup kitchen, like we discussed. There's a woman I met last time who has a little baby, and they've been living in the shelter down the street. I was wondering if -- "

"If you could have money to give her? Hell no. You can't trust the homeless to spend money on anything other than cigarettes and crack cocaine." Robert let out a snort. "Is that all you were wondering?"

Angry tears threatened to press at Lila's eyes, but she blinked them back.

"That's not true. Besides, even if it were, June isn't a typical homeless person. She had to leave her husband. He was beating her. She was afraid he might hurt Anthony -- her child. Please, R -- " She stopped and pulled out her last card. "Please, Dad. Isn't charity a Christian virtue? She deserves our help."

"Fine, fine," he grumbled. He seemed taken aback by her impromptu use of the title he'd always desired to hold over her. "You can take a couple bills out of my wallet in my study. Just ones! If I see any tens or twenties gone, there'll be hell to pay. I'll have no stealing under my roof, young lady."

"Thank you!" Lila said, feeling warm inside, even though dollar bills would go nowhere in the grand scheme of things. It didn't matter; she could add them to the thirty-odd dollars of her own she'd assembled to give to June. She had a vision of the woman and child happily settled into an apartment.

"Wait," Robert said as she turned to leave the doorway. He was drawing back the blanket. "How are you getting to the soup kitchen? Do you need a ride?"

"Oh, no," Lila said quickly. "Emily's going to pick me up. I convinced her to come with me. So you can stay in bed."

Robert grunted his assent. She shut the master bedroom door and went down the hall to his study to secure three dollars from a wallet stuffed with twenties. This made her angry, but she wouldn't steal, even for charity's sake. He'd be bound to figure it out and then, as he'd said, there would be hell to pay. She went downstairs, feeling surprisingly light inside. Her concerns from the evening before had evaporated. What did it matter if Jonas Keaton knew of her entanglement with Cameron? He had said she could rely on his discretion. She brushed away the thought that she might have to see him again today and had just grabbed a pack of mini muffins from the cupboard when a car horn rang out outside.

That was the agreed upon signal. She hurried to the door and kicked on her Keds, then went out. The morning was fair, a strong wind scuttling a line of wispy clouds off into the north. She ran down the drive to the white Mercedes on the curb, whose passenger door had already been thrust open from inside.

"Hello," she said to Cameron, sliding in and pulling the door shut behind her.

"Hello. You're chipper this morning. What are these?" He snatched the package of mini muffins from her hands. "Lila, why are you eating this trash?"

"This trash is what my mother and Robert keep around the house," she said pointedly, taking it back. "You told me to eat, so I'm eating."

"That's some sugary nonsense food, like the kind of shit my parents used to feed me when I was a kid," he muttered. He pulled the car away from the curb, a dark expression on his face. "Robert's rich enough to buy better. Why doesn't he?"