Risa locked the rental at the curb and headed for the house. Hannah had left more than just the security light on, and that was unusual for her. She was frugal to a fault, and if she could figure out a way to douse the constant gleam from the security light, she’d have done so in the interest of knocking a few cents off her utility bill.
But she’d left a lamp on inside, along with the TV. Risa quickened her step. Her mother being that careless was just as unlikely as her not having gone to work this evening.
But there she was when Risa opened the door, her face arranged in a strained if welcoming smile. “Honey. I didn’t know when to expect you. Do you work this late every night?”
“Sometimes. Mom, what’s wrong? Why didn’t you go to work tonight?”
The older woman skirted her gaze as she smoothed her crisp navy uniform pants. “Oh . . . I didn’t feel just right. A little tired, I guess. I called in sick.”
Risa stopped in her tracks, scanning her mother’s form with growing concern. Hannah Blanchette did not call in sick because she didn’t feel “just right.” She’d gone to work the evening before she’d landed in the hospital with pneumonia three years ago. The only other time in Risa’s memory that she’d missed work was when her scumbag husband had punctured her lung, ruptured her spleen, and left her to die on the kitchen floor.
“I’m feeling better, now.” She sent her daughter a reassuring smile. “Probably should have gone in. I laid down for a while but started to go stir-crazy, so I got up and began a little cleaning. Thought with you still out it’d be a good time to tidy up in your room.”
“Mom.” The word sounded on a note of exasperation. “You don’t have to clean up after me.” She was almost certain there’d been nothing in the room to clean. Hannah’s penchant for tidiness had rubbed off on her daughter.
“Well, I guess I can do a little light dusting in my own house when I want to,” the woman said mildly. She smoothed her hair in a manner she had, checking for loose tendrils that had dared to work loose from the tight bun she wore. As usual there were none. Her appearance was as pin neat as the home she kept.
“I saw that you’d started drawing again.” Hannah picked up the remote to turn the volume on the TV down. “I took a look, hope you don’t mind. You were always so talented.” Her brows drew together in worry. “I just wish you didn’t draw such terrible sights. If you drew flowers and animals, you’d sleep better. I just know it.”
Risa’s throat was tight. She couldn’t have forced out a response if she’d had to. Her gait was jerky as she went to the closet, hung up the jacket that hadn’t been necessary that day. Set her purse on the table next to the TV.
“I always thought that’s what caused your bad dreams, those horrible pictures you sketched.” Her mother’s attention was diverted by the evangelist on TV, thundering about the evils of today’s world. She increased the volume a notch.
“I draw what I dream. Not vice versa.” As soon as she spoke the words, Risa wished them back. Hannah had never understood. Not because she hadn’t tried, but because it was beyond her. Although Risa had never doubted her mother’s love, she’d also realized early on that the woman was limited. Her perspective of the world held none of the shades of gray that Risa’s did.
“A God-given talent like that, you should put it to use,” Hannah tempered the words with a wan smile. “I know I never said so before, but I’ve always wanted you to draw me a picture that I could frame and hang on the wall right here. Something pretty and nice. Something I can look at, when you’re not here, and think of you.”
The sentiment coming from a woman usually lacking in it touched Risa. Neither her artistic talent nor her athletic ability had ever drawn much in the way of notice from her mother. “I’ll work on something for you,” she promised, although she had no idea how. Art had long been nothing but a tool for her. A way to document the torturous dreams that left her drenched with dread. She hadn’t picked up a pencil to sketch anything other than the nightmares that plagued her in