His Love, My Choice (Book 2) [Completed] - book 1 on Inkitt dot com

Chapter 15 - Laera

"Your father was working with his source to develop a story for a novel he'd been working on. He'd finally managed to get enough supplemental materials that he was looking for and made the necessary connections for important interviews; the work he'd been devoted to for years was finally taking some real shape. At the time, all I knew was that he would be going to Europe and the Middle East for several weeks to have some face-to-face meetings because the material he was gathering was too sensitive to be sent over electronic communications. In hindsight, I should've asked more questions," I saw my mother's shoulders slump once again.

If we had been in a different space, I might have reached out and touched her hand and rubbed it soothingly, but I couldn't offer her comfort. Not at this time or place.

Remaining silent, I kept my eyes trained on her face so that she would know to continue.

"Laera, your father was working on something that ultimately had a greater impact than even he was aware it would have, although, at the time, he'd believed that he could keep his sources confidential and safe enough to continue with the project. But it quickly became clear that not only their safety was jeopardized but our own; he sought assistance from the proper authorities," she said while rubbing her hands up and down her thighs.

I don't recognize this. This must have been some new habit that she had developed over the years since I'd last seen her.

On the one hand, I couldn't believe what she was telling me, but it also felt like she wasn't telling me anything.

I guess it must have appeared all over my face because she paused to look at me with the greatest concern.

My mother watched my hand as I absentmindedly began soothing myself by rubbing the area underneath my belly button.

"I used to do that with you," she said quietly.

I abruptly halted my hand movement and sat more upright in my seat; I knew she understood I meant for her to carry on making disclosures about my father. A walk down memory lane could wait.

She took the hint."When he sought outside help from the authorities, we ended up in WP," she said that last part with a finality that frightened me.

No mention of what made them decide to leave me behind. How could they leave me knowing that my last memory of them would be of their untimely deaths? And where had they been all this time, and why seek me out now?

I waited for her to continue. I just knew that there had to be more.

But she couldn't or wouldn't go any further of her own volition.

So, I pressed.

"Why did you leave me behind? Why didn't you take me with you? How could you leave me alone?" by the last question, my voice had raised at least two times my normal speaking level.

And I could see by her reaction that she'd not only expected my anger but was prepared for it. She answered me in the calmest way possible.

"We didn't want you to begin your life on the run," she answered.

And before she could say anything further, I laughed. It started as a sharp shout at first, but then, by the time I had both arms wrapped around me, I was struggling to keep myself from falling out of my seat.

"You can't even begin to appreciate the irony of that statement, can you? All I've known since the day you left me was a life on the run," I yelled back at her.

She looked at me for a moment, and I saw something behind her eyes that shone like a recognition for all that I had been through, but it was fleeting, and then it was gone.