SKIPPING TIME

Chapter 17

Cacee came out of the bathroom even more upset than when she went in there. Instead of helping, the shower gave her time to think about how close Jess came to dying, how they were in a different time period and, most importantly, how her mother must be losing her mind by now.

Her fingers traced the leather bracelet she wore. It was a recent gift for an A she'd received on a Calculus test. If she hadn't aced the test, she would've gotten a lecture instead of a present, but that suddenly didn't matter. Both were evidence of her mom's love. And now the thin cord of this bracelet felt like the only link she had to her mother. 

More tears spilled from Cacee's eyes. What was her mom doing right now? Calling the police? Or were they already there? How would her mom hold it together long enough to talk to a houseful of cops by herself?

And, as if her current worries weren't enough torment, her brain kept spitting out random details of her mother' s past. Cacee knew the story by heart. How her mom lost her parents in a car accident when she was seventeen—just a year older than Cacee was now. How, at eighteen, she ended up meeting the "perfect" guy but, terrified to lose anyone else, hadn't wanted to date him. The way he refused to give up until, finally, she agreed to go out with him. And how one date later they were madly in love—and a little over one year later he left her pregnant and alone with nothing but a note saying he was sorry and he had to go.

After Ray's disappearance, her mom closed herself off from the world. She didn't date. She had no real friends. She took every ounce of her love and showered it on her only daughter.

As a little girl Cacee adored being her mom's best friend. As a teenager, it hasn't been so great. In fact, the older she got, the more she'd resented being the only outlet for her mother's affections. Now, as she looked around the warehouse, all that resentment turned to despair. She tried to gulp the sour taste in her mouth and dissolved back into tears, just as Ray turned from the stove and saw her crying by the bathroom door.

"Honey, what's wrong?"

She didn't answer.

Ray took the food he'd been cooking off the burner and gently steered her to the couch, where he sat beside her. After patting her shoulder clumsily, he tried to put his arm around her. She pulled away and curled up, sobbing on her knees. He left, which made her cry more because she didn't want to be alone. But when he returned, she didn't want him to watch her being pathetic. She gasped, "Go away."

"I got you some tissues."

She grabbed a handful, trying to mop up her face. It didn't help. When she started gagging from the tears wrenching up through her, Ray pulled her into his arms.

She tried to shove him away, and he ran his hand over her hair and murmured, "I'm not going to hurt you, honey. It's okay. It's alright, Princess."

For some reason that one endearment was enough. It was the kind of thing she often heard other dad's call their daughters. The kind of nickname she always envied. On top of that, she badly needed comfort and, right now, Ray was all she had. She relaxed into him, shaking and soaking his shoulder. He rocked her like she was a little girl, talking to her the whole time. Nonsensical words that she didn't understand, but it didn't matter. He was warm and smelled like aftershave and soap, which seemed like good, fatherly kinds of smells. At last, her tears dried enough for her to gulp, "Don't tell Jess."

Ray crossed his heart. "It's our secret. Promise. Want to talk about it?"

She took a shaky breath. "My mom must be terrified. I should've never left. I know how fragile she is. This is all my fault. This will kill her."