or God, or whoever the heck you believe in, they don’t want you to figure it out with help. They want you to work on your gifts on your own, commanding them in your own time.” She blinked, paused, took a bite of the candy, groaned, and muttered, “Forgot how good this stuff tastes.”
My lips twitched, but I didn’t smile, didn’t interrupt. I wanted, so badly, to understand.
“Your grandmother could see auras and was able to heal, but it nearly killed her whenever she did anything more than healing broken bones and the like. Something serious? She could treat it, but if she did, she invited the disease into her. See? A curse.
“You give someone the power to understand another’s suffering, even give them the ability to limit that pain, and then, it’ll kill you. Your compassion and that curse, both’ll kill you.” She took another bite, chewed, then murmured, “There’s a lesson there, Theodosia. Remember, whatever we’ve been granted, it comes at a cost.”
Another lesson. She might not want me here, but she sure had a checklist of things she wanted me to remember after this visit. “What kind of cost?” I asked warily.
“Like thirty years behind bars. That kinda thing,” she snapped, then she sucked down a breath and mumbled, “Sorry. Ain’t talked about this shit in a long time, and never thought I’d have to.”
“You didn’t think I’d come for you?”
I wasn’t sure if that hurt or if I understood it.
She’d had a little girl. Why hadn’t she tried to keep in contact with me?
“I hoped you wouldn’t,” she admitted, nearly breaking my fucking heart. And hell, my heart was already delicate from the stomping Adam had given it, then what with losing Nanny and everything, it was barely keeping things together. “Never wanted you to see me like this,” she rumbled. “But I got your letter. Surprised me because I’d just never expected it, even though I wondered if something would change when you turned eighteen.”
“Y-You remember that?” I whispered, my eyes wide with hope.
“Of course.” Her lips twisted, but she didn’t grace me with a look. “Forty-three hours of labor ain’t something you forget in a hurry, child. Plus, you were the most beautiful baby I’d ever seen, and I’d seen a few.”
“You had? Why?” I asked softly, something inside me finding comfort in the fact she thought I was beautiful as a baby, that she remembered my birthday.
I felt like a dog hunting for scraps, but maybe I was.
Maybe I was always destined to be hungry in one way or another.
“That was my gift,” she muttered, shoulders slouching.
“What? I thought your gift was with horses?”
“It was, in a way. They liked me, and I liked them, but I was good at birthing foals. They were easier and a lot less intimate than helping women.” She shivered. “Never did like it. Momma made me learn though. Second she caught me with our dog who’d caught on, and then a pregnant cat who appeared—” Her nose crinkled. “I’m not sure what the gift or the curse is with me. Everyone, except for in this place, of course, turns up pregnant around me, and then I have to help them through labor.” A breath gusted from her. “That’s the only decent thing about being stuck in here for thirty years.” She shivered. “Always did hate blood.”
I gaped at her, trying to reconcile all that, then when it was impossible, I muttered, “I’m so confused.”
She snorted. “You and me both.” She reached for a Snickers next, and I’d seen she hadn’t finished anything she tried, just took small nibbles of it and carefully wrapped each candy back up.
Would she be able to take them back with her? I hoped she would, even if I wasn’t sure if that was allowed.
She studied me as she chewed, like she was contemplating something, like she was unsure whether she was going to tell me what was on her mind. I stared at her, eager to learn more. Hell, eager to hear her voice. Just to listen to her, my momma. A woman I’d thought I’d never know… and the irony was, of course, that I had the chance of knowing her, but I didn’t think she’d ever let me in. She had bars in her eyes. More than even the ones I’d seen on my way to the visitation room. She wasn’t going to let me in.
“Did you know when we bear a child,” she stated, breaking into my thoughts, “when