“Today.”
My eyes flick between her and the road. “What time today?”
“Christopher,” she snaps, “I’ll tell them when I tell them. Just keep your big mouth shut until I do.”
“Fucking hell, Hayden,” I mutter. “I thought you sorted this shit all out.”
“I’m not facing the firing squad alone.”
“Firing squad?” I frown. “What does that mean?”
“This is it.” We get to the top of the hill and a large clearing. There is a main farmhouse and a scattering of small cottages around it. It looks homey and nice, straight out of a family movie. “Park in there.” She gestures to a clearing where a collection of utilities is lined up.
Hmm . . . maybe the McLaren wouldn’t have fit in among these hunks of junk.
I park the car, and I hear a screen door slam. “Hayden?” a woman yells.
“It’s me, Momma. I’m home.”
“Ah.” The elderly woman cries as she and Hayden run to each other. They hug, and the woman cries tears of joy. Hayden cries too.
Jeez . . . I try not to roll my eyes.
Dramatic.
They hug and hug and hug, and I stand to the side like an idiot.
Hello . . . I’m right here, remember?
“Momma”—Hayden smiles—“this is Christopher.”
Her mom looks me up and down and smiles. “Well . . . aren’t you just the handsomest man I ever did see?”
“Hello.” I smile. I hold out my hand. She ignores it and hugs me tight, so tight that she nearly breaks a rib.
Strong.
“Hello, Christopher.” Hayden’s mom smiles. “I’m Valerie.”
“Hello, Valerie.”
She puts her arms around the both of us and begins to lead us into the house. “Thank god you’re home, baby girl. We missed you so much.”
Hayden smiles broadly and kisses her mom’s temple.
“I love you, Mom. It’s so good to see your face.” Hayden smiles. “Where’s Dad?”
“He’s working. He’ll be back for lunch soon.”
Hayden smiles over at me. She’s so happy and in her element. “I can’t wait to see him.”
Hmm . . . the firing squad comment is getting some real context here.
Fuck.
We walk past three large dogs, who look dead as they sleep, and up the stairs, onto the veranda, and into the house. “Oh, you look lovely, Hazy. So much color and so relaxed.”
“Oh, Mom, it was so amazing. You and Dad have to travel.”
Hayden and her mom chat and laugh, and I look around at the house. It’s eclectic, as if everything has been salvaged from a thrift store. Four couches, none that match. The dining table is antique looking, but the chairs are all different. The artwork on the walls varies from tapestries to paintings to crayon drawings. Huge rugs in unmatching colors are everywhere, and there’s a huge fireplace. A collection of antique-looking saucers are displayed on the walls as if they are national treasures. It smells like warm cake and has a very serene Hayden feel.
I smile. This is not what I was expecting, but it all makes sense. Another piece of the Hayden puzzle falls into place.
“Have some cake.” Valerie smiles as she lifts a tea towel to reveal a cake.
“Straight out of the oven.” Hayden smiles as she cuts it up. Steam rises as the knife slices through it.