Chapter 7: The Casserole

"That's my grandmother's jewelry box," I said.

Lorraine came down the last three steps and set it on the hall table, quite gently.

"I was keeping it safe, Margaret. You left in such a state on Christmas Eve, and I didn't like to think of strangers walking through."

"There aren't any strangers. There's you."

"There's family." She turned her head. "Hello, Callum."

He stood at the open front door with the cold coming in around him.

"Mom."

"Five years," she said, and her voice shook very slightly. "I sent you letters."

"I read them."

"You never wrote back."

"I read them," he said again, "and I didn't write back."

For a second her eyes filled.

Then she looked at the broken goblet on the table and at the blood on the handkerchief, and I watched her put it all away.

"Well," she said. "Let's not stand in the cold. Margaret, I'll make us some tea."

"I don't want tea."

"Of course you do."

She walked into my kitchen and filled my kettle.

She had a key from Neil, and she'd had it for five years.

She lit the burner and took down two of my grandmother's cups without needing to look for them.

Callum came in and stood by the back door with his arms crossed.

I sat down at the kitchen table because my knees had stopped agreeing with me.

"I brought a casserole this morning," Lorraine said, with her back to me. "It's in the refrigerator. Chicken and rice. You haven't been eating."

"I'm eating fine."

"You were always thin." She poured the water. "Margaret, dear. I want to say something, and I want you to hear it as a mother."

Keep reading free with an account. Start They Called Me Barren. They Picked the Wrong Wife from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.