Sanctity

Chapter 2

Sixteen hours later Michael turned into a neat little subdivision with about half a dozen houses lining the street. He stopped in front of a brick-faced home then turned to me with a smile and said, "Here we are."

I looked all over as he helped me out of the car. He sensed my curiosity and gave me a moment to admire the well-groomed lawns and dainty flower beds that dotted the curbs. After a moment, he took my hand and led me along the walkway to the front door of the house where we parked. As he reached out to ring the bell, I hid behind him and shuffled nervously from foot to foot. I wondered why he had brought me there and who I was about to meet.

The door swung open and a woman cried out in surprise, "Michael! Oh, Michael, how good to see you!" She stepped onto the porch and wrapped him in a loving embrace. When she tucked her chin over his shoulder she saw me and smiled brightly. "Oh," she said and took a step back.

Everything about her reminded me of Michael and I guessed she must be his mother. Her eyes weren't quite the same color but they were the same shape and set as Michael's and her hair was almost as dark, too, though slowly turning grey.

"And who is this?" She asked ducking behind him to get a better look. Her voice sounded cheerful; curious and warm.

"This is Elayna. Elayna, this is my mother, Margaret."

She glanced back up at Michael expressively. She looked confused, maybe even angry or disappointed. It seemed like she recognized my name and it surprised her somehow. I wasn't sure what to do while she tried to make sense of the situation. Then suddenly her smile returned and Margaret held her hand out, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Elayna."

With a touch of apprehension, I reached around Michael and stumbled out the words, "It's nice to meet you, Margaret."

"Well," she said, "let's not stand out here in the cold." She pushed the door wider and motioned us inside.

She still looked upset and I didn't want to follow her imagining I was the reason why. It seemed like she was uncomfortable having me there. I wanted to tell Michael we should leave. I glanced up hoping to get his attention but before I could make the suggestion Margaret led us into the bright and homey kitchen. It was warm and inviting and smelled of freshly baked bread. My stomach rumbled reminding me how hungry I was and everything else was forgotten.

The bread lay on a cutting board on the kitchen island beside a bowl teeming with bright red apples. Margaret must have seen the longing in my eyes as she offered us seats at the kitchen table. "Are you hungry?" she asked.

I nodded slightly.

She waited expectantly. I think she wanted me to tell her what I liked. I didn't know how to respond and looked imploringly at Michael for help.

"Whatever you have on hand and whatever's easiest," he said and he shrugged out of his coat. "In the meantime," he walked us to the island and grabbed an apple. He gave it a quick polish then handed it to me as we settled into the stools around the kitchen table.

After a few minutes of rummaging in the refrigerator and shuffling around the island Margaret laid a plate on the mat in front of me. In the center was a slice of the bread, still warm and spread with so much butter it melted into little pools. On either side of the bread Margaret arranged an alternating array of cured meats and various cheeses along with slices of carrots and bell peppers. It seemed artfully done and my face lit up when I saw it. I thanked her and eagerly picked away at each of the different foods.

Margaret poured me a glass of milk and handed it to me before she finally sat down. While I ate Michael and Margaret talked quietly. Their conversation was very reserved; mostly small talk, about the weather, how Margaret had been feeling, if there was anything she would like him to do for her while he was in town.