No Fault of Mine

Chapter Twenty-Eight

As the red, orange, and yellow colors of dawn began to paint the eastern horizon, Stan said he needed to go. He said he'd like to meet Brant officially, but not in a way that would leave questions in his mind. He kissed me at the door, taking his time, which I found satisfying and heartfelt. No brief swipe of the lips that I'd become so accustomed to. I watched him drive away and immediately longed for him and hoped he'd return.

When his car rounded the corner, I closed the door and brewed a cup of coffee. I was going to need it. I was exhausted.

While nursing my coffee on the deck in the chill of early morning, I considered my next steps. I scolded myself for this. Couldn't I enjoy the moment instead of planning my day?

Nope. It was futile. I got up and returned to my study. I sighed as I opened the cabinet and methodically thumbed through the files, hoping we'd overlooked the file we wanted—no such luck.

As I closed the cabinet, I heard Brant in the bathroom. I went to the kitchen and began pulling ingredients and cooking utensils from the cupboards and drawers to make one of his favorite breakfasts.

"Mom, are you okay?" he asked as he entered the kitchen. When he saw me put a pan on a burner, he asked, "What's for breakfast?"

I gave him a good-morning hug and said, "I'm fine, and I like what you chose to wear today."

"Mom, for breakfast, you know, I asked you?"

"I thought it was a good morning to have fruit," I winked.

"Yeah, okay. What's the pan for? Eggs...again?"

"Could be, but I think I'll use the eggs to make blueberry pancakes," I said, grinning.

"Yipee," he shouted. Nothing animated him more than pancakes or waffles. Why, I'll never know.

As I was putting the dishes into the dishwasher after breakfast, I wondered if I should keep Brant with me through the day; I wasn't sure how traumatized he was. We were on our way to Aunt Bea's when I asked again, "Would you like to stay with me today?"

"Mom, it's boring at your work," he said.

So, the question was answered. He was good enough. I told Aunt Bea about the attack and asked her to watch for any signs that he might be having difficulty.

"Don't worry, Mia," she said reassuringly. "I have plenty of experience with children who have been traumatized by what happened in their home."

I thanked her and headed to the office. Ann and SueAnn were already there, each with a mug of coffee and a slice of coffee cake on a napkin.

"So, which of you baked last night?" I asked. "And good morning, by the way."

"Good morning. I have several messages for you," Ann said, handing them to me.

"My neighbor brought over a small cake that she'd made in addition to what she made for her coffee clutch group this morning," SueAnn said. "There's a piece for you in the kitchenette."

"Thanks," I said. "Coffee cake with coffee, it's poetic"

I glanced at the three sticky notes and saw one from Detective Gamble. I got coffee and cake, thanking SueAnn again for her thoughtfulness. I dialed the detective's number, and a voice answered almost immediately.