A Haunting Love

by Lubrican

Chapters : 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17

Chapter Thirteen

Ramona found her brother at the mansion. Again he was talking to a worker, this time about the choices for a heating system for both the house and the water system. The workman was suggesting that the house, even though renovated, was too big for a conventional system, and was recommending that a boiler be installed. It would handle all the heating needs and with a heat transfer unit, could be connected to the new duct work being installed. Ramona stood quietly, waiting for them to finish.

Robert turned his head and saw Ramona. He smiled and told the man to do whatever he thought would lead to the best result.

Then he turned to Ramona, looking at the cloth in her hands.

"Renee gave me this to wear at dinner tonight," she said, by way of explanation. "She wants me to seduce you."

"Smart woman," he commented. "Perhaps you'd show me what the dress looks like now? Upstairs?" He grinned.

She wanted to take his hand and lead him there herself, but didn't. There were too many people around. "Yes," she said simply.

She followed him and, when they were locked in the master bedroom, he watched silently as she stripped in front of him. Naked, she stepped into the dress and pulled it up and onto her body. Her breasts were a little smaller than Renee's, and her nipples showed in the gap of the bodice. It was as if she was wearing almost nothing.

"It doesn't fit well," she said.

"Perhaps she'll tell you where she got it, so I can have one made to fit you better," he said.

She dropped the dress in answer. She was panting.

Their lovemaking was not in any way, shape or form, slow motion in nature. Ramona was wild for him, her emotions having been at a peak ever since seeing her children on the bed. She told him what she'd seen, and then bit his shoulder, so intense was her first orgasm. He sensed her need and waited, controlling his own urge and pounding her through two more orgasms before he asked for, and received permission to jet her full of his seed.

As they lay spent in each other's arms, she kissed the teeth marks she had left in his shoulder.

"I hurt you! I'm sorry," she said.

"It was stupendous. You must spy on the children again sometime. It made you like a tigress."

She was both too relaxed to slap at him and too astonished that some part of her reacted positively to his suggestion to say anything. Instead she got up and got dressed and then went back home, making as much noise as she could both in the garage, and in the kitchen, banging cupboard doors and talking to herself as she got some juice to drink. She unconsciously took inventory of what there was to prepare for her brother's visit that night.

Debbie sauntered into the kitchen.

"Hi Mom," she said brightly. "What are you doing home so early?"

There wasn't anything in Debbie's voice that suggested that Ramona shouldn't come home early, or that maybe her mother was trying to spy on her children, but something deep in Ramona was tired of the secrets and the lies that had flowed around this household like smoke from a fire. It was an unconscious decision on her part to do what she did. One might say she was actually driven to do it in a sense. For whatever reason, she turned and spoke.

"I saw you this afternoon," she said, looking at her daughter. Debbie had a healthy glow about her, almost a radiance. Ramona had heard the coarse term "well fucked" but now she was seeing it for the first time and it made all kinds of sense. Her heart fluttered as she realized she probably looked exactly the same way. She felt fabulously fucked and it had to show.

"What? When?" asked Debbie, confused. They hadn't left the house all day. When their mother had left for work the teens had succumbed to a hormonal attack and had been trying to ease that itch all day long. Though Ramona didn't know it, the time she'd seen them was actually the fourth time that day that Robby had emptied his balls into his sister's well-fucked belly.

"About an hour ago," said Ramona, taking a drink of her juice.

"Oh," said Debbie, thinking furiously. There was only one place they had been an hour ago. They had spent the first half of the morning in Robby's room, when she snuck in and jumped on top of him and then got pinned like a 109 pound wrestler in a 135 pound match. Then they had transferred to her room for the slower, more sensual lovemaking, where she called the shots.

"Oh!" said Debbie, her stomach doing flip flops.

"I thought you told me you two hadn't gone that far," said Ramona, her voice sounding unconcerned enough that it caught Debbie's ear and made her tense up.

"We didn't," said Debbie hurriedly. "Not until yesterday. When you left for work I went to tickle him and he got excited and then I got excited and ..." She looked at her mother. Debbie knew that this was a time when things could work out for the good, or things could go horribly wrong. "I thought about you," Debbie said, stopping again. "I thought about how happy you were when you were with Uncle Robert and we were ... watching." Debbie took a step toward her mother. "And I knew that you wouldn't do that unless it was something really special and important. And Robby's important to me, so I made him do it to me."

"You made him?" asked Ramona, impressed that her daughter had been not only willing to tell her what happened, but pretty capable to express her state of mind at the time too. Most kids just got carried away and did things without thinking at all.

"He didn't want to at first," said Debbie. "He was afraid it would hurt me."

"And did it?" Ramona was shocked that she'd asked.

"It did at first. But Mommy, you know what it's like. I could hear it in your voice. And now I understand, because I felt it too. I never felt anything like that before."

"So you wanted to feel it again today," prompted Ramona.

"Yes," said her daughter, hanging her head. "Do you hate me now?"

Ramona reached out and took Debbie in her arms.

"No, baby, I don't hate you. I'm afraid for you. I worry that this will hurt you later, but I don't hate you. I love you. I told you that will never change.

The tension that was in Debbie broke and she cried on her mother's shoulder, mixed tears of relief, and happiness, and grief for making her mother worry. "He loves me mother, and I love him so much I can't tell you how much," she cried into her mother's hair.

Ramona smoothed her hands over her daughter's back. "I know, sweetheart, I know. I understand exactly how you feel."

That was pretty much it. There were no protestations that they wouldn't do it again, and no threats about what would happen if they did. The mother/daughter relationship had fled by all that, leaving it in the dust as each accepted in the other some things they might have wished were different.

"Your uncle is coming to dinner tonight," said Ramona.

Debbie pushed back. "Really? I don't hate him any more Mom."

Ramona laughed. "I can't stay mad at him either. It's terrible. He came into the bank today and asked me out on a date!"

Debbie made shocked sounds and then demanded to know everything. Like two best friends they chattered together as Ramona started pulling things out of the fridge to make a salad and described everything that had happened, like one girl telling another how a date with an interesting boy had gone.

Their squeals and laughter brought Robby to the kitchen, looking surprised.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Debbie held up a finger to her mother. "Don't tell him. I want to tell him later, okay?"

Ramona nodded, surprised, thinking that Debbie meant Robert was coming over that night. But, as Debbie then launched into a retelling of what had happened at the bank Ramona realized that Debbie wanted to talk to her lover about being discovered - while they were alone. That was okay with Ramona. She'd had enough drama for the day.

When Debbie got to the part where Renee had invited the kids over for pizza to let Ramona be alone with the rich man so she could seduce him, she giggled, enjoying the same irony that Ramona had.

Robby had been grinning for some time. "So, you want us to do that Mom?" he asked. "Go over to Renee's I mean?"

Ramona felt a rush of tenderness. Her children were going to let her have her happiness. But she shook her head. "No, that would be too out of character for me. We're going to have to make it look like I'm playing hard to get." She realized, as soon as she said it, that it sounded like she was going to let people think there was something between her and Robert Nettleton. That thought buzzed in her brain and her alarm bells went off. What she and Robert had must remain a secret. All would be lost if anyone besides her children found out.

The kids exploded into action, running around, cleaning the already-clean house, like they had before the last disaster that had been a visit for dinner by Robert Nettleton. This time they would know who he was, and what that meant to their mother. This time it would go much better.

Robert showed up at the front door precisely on time, and he had both a bottle of wine and a bouquet of roses in his hands. It was Debbie who answered the door, based on her mother's frantic shout that she was at a critical point in the gravy making and couldn't leave the stove.

While there is no scientific proof to back this up, it has been hypothesized there's a gene in females of the species that is there just to make sure that, when a woman sees flowers in a man's hand, her sex drive kicks in. Debbie had never received flowers from a man, but she had that gene, and it kicked in. It kicked in even though Debbie's conscious mind knew quite clearly that the flowers were for her mother, and not for her. That gene just isn’t sophisticated enough to tell who flowers are for.

It's true. If you don't believe it, just deliver a vase of flowers to a woman in an office somewhere who works with other women around her. You don't even have to know the woman. In fact, it's better, for the sake of the experiment, if you don't know the woman. Just deliver her flowers with a card that says, "From an anonymous admirer" and act like a normal delivery guy. Then watch the other women in the office. They'll light up, and smile and make all kinds of vaguely sexual sounds and the smell of damp pussy might very well waft on the air.

If you watched those women as closely as Robert watched his niece, you'd see their pupils dilate as that gene tells the pleasure center of the brain to release a squirt of dopamine into the bloodstream.

And that's for flowers they know aren't even for them!

Of course, by the time they get home to their men ... the ones who are not bringing flowers home to put on the table ... that dopamine will have diluted to pretty near nothing as other emotions replace the initial wish for a nice hard cock in that damp pussy. The replacement emotions, unfortunately, generally result in statements like: "Janice got flowers at work today. Nobody ever sends me flowers at work! You haven't slept on the couch for a while. Maybe it's worn out. Maybe we need a new one. Why don't you sleep on the couch for a few nights just so we know for sure."

Of course it's possible that that is another function of the 'flower gene' and that if the urge to mate is not satisfied within a reasonable time after the flowers are introduced into a woman's life ... whether they're for her or not, the gene then brings about these other reactions.

At any rate, Robert, his observation skills honed by being a foreigner in hostile places for years, did notice Debbie's pupils dilate. And he saw in those young eyes a wish that the flowers were for her.

His plan changed, adapting to new circumstances.

"I have here wine for your beautiful mother," he said. He winked and said "Perhaps she will lower her guard tonight if she drinks too much?"

Then he extended the bouquet of flowers.

"And these are for my beautiful niece, to begin to make up for ruining her playhouse and bringing so much turmoil to her life."

Debbie's 'flower gene' told her brain to go ahead and give another squirt of dopamine. She took the roses and smelled them.

"I don't think you need the wine to get Mom's guard down," she said, smiling.

He smiled back. "Ah, then perhaps I can convince her to give you a little."

His flirting reference to what he had said the wine was for created an instant flock of butterflies in Debbie's stomach. Her recent arrival at full womanhood still had her hormones at high levels, and attention from a man, even one she had so recently disliked, kicked those hormones into little storms in her body. She felt her nipples crinkle and blushed.

Debbie backed up and ushered her uncle into the house, and, because he was family, on into the kitchen, instead of the living room. It was a little thing in her mind, but it registered with him in a big way. He wanted his niece and nephew to like him. In one sense he needed his niece and nephew to like him if his plan was going to work out like he wanted it to.

"Look Mommy!" Debbie squealed as she went to her mother. "Uncle Bob ..." she faltered and turned to Robert. "Is it okay if I call you Uncle Bob?"

He smiled again and nodded. "I prefer it."

Debbie turned back to her mother. "Uncle Bob brought me flowers!"

Ramona had turned when her daughter first spoke, and saw the roses in her hands. Ramona had the gene too, of course, and she knew immediately who had brought them. She too, would have liked them to be for her but her reaction to her daughter's statement wasn't one of disappointment. She was thrilled for Debbie, and was quite able to use her own shot of dopamine to channel her pleasure to happiness at her little girl's pleasure.

"How sweet," she said, feeling a rush of emotion for her daughter. "And roses too! You better watch out for him Deb."

Her mother's unknowing reference to her uncle's teasing remark wasn't lost on Debbie and she blushed again. She'd never really thought about what it might be like for a man other than her brother to pay attention to her. It was true that boys at school liked to look at her, but they were just a distraction to Debbie, and not material for serious consideration. They couldn't stack up to Robby, and they for sure couldn't stack up to her uncle.

Debbie decided to do some teasing of her own. "He brought wine too. He says it's to make you let your guard down." She smiled sweetly at her uncle.

"Curses!" quipped Robert, twirling imaginary long moustaches. "My plan is foiled again!"

Debbie teased her mother next. "I told him he didn't need the wine," she said. "Then he said maybe you'd let me have some."

Ramona laughed. "You really need to watch him then. I had hoped I'd be woman enough to satisfy him." she wiped her hands on a towel and went to Robert, clasping him in her arms and kissing him soundly. "Perhaps I'll have to try harder," she said when the kiss was over.

Robert ground his seemingly ever-hard penis into Ramona's mound. "I could not help myself," he said, as if it were nothing of consequence. "She looks very much like you did when you were her age."

Ramona laughed again. "You're a silver tongued liar. I was a skinny plain girl when I was Debbie's age, and nothing any boy looked at."

"You looked like she looks to me," said Robert, kissing her gently. "And you were as desirable to me as she is to any man who sees her now."

That flower gene I mentioned earlier? There's another one too. It's a gene that takes compliments and transforms them into more dopamine. Debbie was beginning to like her uncle very much.

Robby sauntered into the kitchen. "Smells good in here," he said.

"Uncle Bob got me roses!" announced Debbie proudly, thrusting them out in front of her. Not having been thrown to the ground and ravished while her brain was still fogged with dopamine, the other response in Debbie poked up its head.

"Nobody has ever gotten me flowers before," she said to her brother, her eyebrow raised slightly.

Robby, having neither the 'flower gene' nor Robert's skill in observing other human reactions to various stimuli, made the same simple mistake that most men would make.

"That's nice," he said. "When do we eat? I'm starved." Not knowing that his bed had just magically turned into a couch, he sat down at the table, his eyes going hungrily to the bowls of food already set out.

Debbie, thoroughly disgusted with her brother's tepid response to her obvious suggestion that he should have given her flowers beginning long ago, and frequently since then, and not having received the apology that would have kept his bed a bed, decided to punctuate her displeasure with her brother. She went to her uncle, put her arms around his neck, said, "Thank you Uncle Bob," and kissed him soundly on the lips.

Robert hadn't been kidding when he told his sister that, in his mind, she had been just as beautiful as a teen as her daughter was. He did think Debbie was a delectable slice of womanhood. And, he had no real designs on his niece sexually, barring the occasional fleeting fantasy most men have when they see a good looking woman. But he also had no internal prohibition against incest, and he did, in fact, want his niece to like him so his plan could go forward.

So Robert kissed his niece like he meant it. Which, of course, he did. He returned her hug with strength, and Debbie felt, for the first time in her life, a hard penis other than her brother's, pressing into her mons. He didn't use his tongue - that would have been much too personal at this early stage of his relationship with his niece - but he didn't need to. Debbie felt faint as she received a real kiss, from a real man, that made real things happen inside her body.

Debbie also had no designs sexually on her uncle. She had appreciated the flirting and innuendo on a basic female level. The kiss demanded more, also on a basic level - male - and it took her breath away.

Robert, being the more experienced of the two, released her, his hands on her waist, and said, "You are most welcome. It was my pleasure."

Debbie stumbled backwards, reaching for a chair and sat down. She was already re-thinking her plan not to visit her brother's bedroom that night.

Ramona had seen what happened and knew what Robert's kisses were like. She felt no panic or jealousy, like she had at the thought of grasping hussies trying to steal Robert from her, for his money. Her daughter was no threat. Her daughter was part of her. Her daughter deserved to experience that kind of kiss. She stifled a giggle at her daughter's reaction to the kiss.

"You shouldn't do that to a poor innocent girl," she chided Robert. She reached for the roses in Debbie's suddenly limp grasp. "Here, let me put those in water before you drop them on the floor."

Robby, who had watched his lover kiss another man, felt suddenly less hungry. He somehow knew he was involved in that kiss, but couldn't quite put his finger on how, or why. He glared at his uncle.

Robert sat down, seeing the glare coming from his nephew. He used camaraderie to repair hurt feelings. "I see why you like to kiss her," he said, winking. "Her lips are soft and sweet, yes?"

Robby, less comfortable with talking about what he and his sister had been doing, and completely unaware that his mother knew all of it, felt his face get hot. "Well ... you shouldn't ... I mean we ... Oh let's eat!" he said, giving up on trying to deal with the subject.

Robert laughed. "I tell you what. From now on I will not kiss your sister unless you say it is okay to do so." He looked at Robby for agreement, and when he saw Robby's astonishment he twisted the verbal knife. "And you shall not kiss my sister like that unless I say it is okay to do so." He folded his arms across his chest like he had made some royal decree, and leaned back in his chair.

Robby was aghast. "I've never kissed my mother like that!" he yelped.

Robert picked up his napkin and began to arrange it on his lap. "Well you should some time. Her lips are also tender and sweet." He grinned.

"Bobby!" scolded Ramona, putting a platter of meat on the table. "You have no shame!"

"This is true," said Robert, nodding his head. "When it comes to kissing beautiful women I have no shame. I have just joy that I get to do so."

Robert relented and stopped teasing as they all sat down to share food. Instead, he listened with glee at Debbie's retelling of the scene at the bank when he had come in and invited Ramona to dinner.

In a fateful way, the telling of that story, and the laughter it produced, set the stage for Robert much better than anything else he could have done. When it was clear the story was over, and the chuckles had died down, he put down his fork.

"I am thinking of something," he said, as if he had just thought of it that very moment, when in fact he had thought of little else ever since he had heard that Ramona's husband had died so tragically.

Three sets of eyes fastened on him.

"Here I am, having dinner with Ramona Franklin and her lovely children," he said. "And people in town are assuming I find her desirable." So far he hadn't said anything that caused any stir.

"I do find her desirable," he said. Ramona blushed, even though she knew her children were quite aware of just how desirable he found her.

"And on a first date, I should get to know some things about her, yes?" he asked.

Three sets of eyes blinked in confusion.

"Tell me, Mrs. Franklin, if you would," he paused for effect. "What was your maiden name when you married Mr. Franklin?"

"Ramona Shanks," replied Ramona automatically.

"How interesting," mused Robert. "I had heard a vague rumor that you had a different name at one time."

Ramona stared at him. "I changed my name, Robert. You know that! What are you getting at?"

"And how many people here in this delightful little town, would remember you as Elizabeth Nettleton?" asked Robert, his eyes boring into his sister's.

Ramona blinked again. "I don't think anybody would," she said. "They'd all be so old now. Most of them have passed on already, I'm sure. What in the world are you talking about?" she asked, exasperated.

Robert waved a hand negligently. "I was just thinking that if Robert Nettleton found the widowed Ramona Franklin desireable, and wished to date her, no one would think that strange in the least."

He waited until there were somewhat dazed nods of affirmation from the other three people at the table. Ramona's looked a little doubting, but there was suddenly hope in her eyes.

Then he dropped the bombshell.

"And, if, as I recall, a wedding license requires only a maiden name and some form of identification. It seems to me that the names of Ramona Shanks, also known as Ramona Franklin, paired with that of Robert Nettleton on such a document, would not appear strange to anyone either."

He gave another negligent wave of his hand. "That is all I was thinking."

He picked up his fork and took a bite as if he had merely suggested that having a picnic in the park might be a wonderful idea.

There was a moment of hushed silence, so complete that Robert's chewing could easily be heard by the other three. A clock ticked loudly on the wall over the sink. Robby's chair creaked slightly as he shifted his weight. Then the fork Ramona had been holding over her plate fell from her fingers, to bounce off her plate and clatter against her glass.

"You can't be serious!" she said, her voice hushed.

Robert looked at her calmly. "I have never been more serious in my life."

Debbie's lip quivered. "You'd be my Daddy?"

Robert shook his head. "People would call me your step-father, but I could never replace your real father. I am content that you think of me as uncle. In fact, even if you were to call me 'Uncle Bob', I don't think people would find that too troubling, yes? You are almost adults yourselves, and to call a step-father 'uncle' instead of father would suggest your respect for the man who helped create you."

"But you'd live with us?" asked Debbie.

"I had hoped you would give some thought to living with me ... in our family home," he said.

"In the Manor?!" Debbie said. She leaned forward. "We could live in the Manor?!"

"I would be most happy if the Nettleton mansion was again filled with happy ... Nettletons," said Robert. "But perhaps we move too quickly. Your mother has said nothing."

Debbie's face turned to that of her mother. "Mommy?" she asked, her voice high.

Ramona looked gray. She was looking fixedly at her brother. "You don't fight fair," she said, her voice low. "You would bribe my children to force me to live in that place."

Robert held up his hands, palms outward. "No, dear one. This is only a dream I have had ... that our home could be brought back, and the sadness chased out. That we could be together as we were, free to love each other. But I would never force you to do anything. If you choose to marry me I would be happy beyond my ability to proclaim. But if taking you home cost me your love, or cost you your happiness, I would not ask you to do that. I love you Elizabeth." He used her real name intentionally, to remind her of what they had felt for each other when she still used that name. "And if I must love you from afar, in the dark of night, then so be it. I would never force you."

Ramona looked torn and sad. "But we could never marry. That's craziness."

Robby ventured to say something. "Mom?"

She looked at him.

"What he said ... about your maiden name. It makes sense to me. I don't think anyone would think it was odd."

"I suppose you want to go live there too," said Ramona tightly.

"No! That's not what I meant at all Mom. I don't care where we live. But I've seen you ... when you look at him. You don't look at anybody else like that. I didn't even like him at first, but he makes you happy, doesn't he?"

Ramona's weak spot had been probed. Robert did, indeed, make her the happiest she'd ever been, both in the past and now. "That's not fair," she said petulantly. "You know I love him."

"Well gee, Mom," said Robby with sarcasm in his voice. "What do people in love do? They get married Mom."

Ramona still didn't want to make a decision. Something deep inside her lit up at the thought of openly calling herself Robert's wife. But she was still afraid. She veered off from making that decision.

"I suppose, since you love your sister, you want to marry her too?" she asked, throwing Robby's sarcasm back at him.

"No," he said immediately. "I would, if I could, but people know who we are. Mom, they don't know who you really are. Nobody knows. Debbie and I didn't even know. You could do this Mom. It would work." He waited several heartbeats and then added, "If you wanted it to."

Ramona had felt the pressure building ever since she heard Robert speak of marriage licenses. It had grown as Robert pulled at her heart strings. Debbie's attitude, though mercenary to some degree in Ramona's mind, suggested strongly that her hatred of Robert was a thing of the past. And now Robby approved of this mad scheme.

"Of course I would want it to work," she groaned. "Nothing would make me happier than to be ... really be Bobby's wife."

"Will you then at least think about it?" asked Robert.

"You know good and well I'll think of nothing else you ... you ... you man!" she barked.

"That is all I could hope for," smiled Robert. "And we," his hand swung in a small circle that included Debbie, Robby and himself, "We will refrain from speaking of this again until you have had time to consider this." He pushed his plate away. "In fact, I shall leave now, so that my presence does not sway you."

Ramona stood too. "But Bobby ..." she held out a hand. "What about tonight?" Ramona had planned on wearing the dress for him again that night, before he left."

As if he could read her mind he said, "My sweet, the dress will wait for another night. I am quite serious about this idea, and you need to be serious about your decision when you make it. I tell you now, I will abide by it, and my love will not lessen, whatever you decide. I care most for your happiness. If there are conditions under which you would accept, then think on those, so that I may abide by them too."

He stepped away from the table. "If I were to stay, I would hold you and kiss you and make love to you, and that would not be fair. No, you must think on this."

He stepped over to Ramona and took her hand. Very slowly and tenderly he brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of her fingers.

"Mrs. Franklin, I was honored to be invited to your home for dinner. I had a wonderful time, and would like to see you again. May I call on you at the bank?"

Ramona sat down hard and her shoulders shook with a mixture of laughter and tears as her emotions boiled over.

"Go on!" she barked, wiping her face with her hands. "I can't think with you in the house!"

Robert bowed to his niece and nephew and wagged a finger at them. "Remember ... not a word to your mother."

He had made it to the front door on his own when he heard Ramona's shriek.

"Yes! Yes you may call on me at the bank!"

He was smiling as he closed the front door behind him.

Inside it was not as happy a place, at least not for Ramona. She sobbed, mostly just to release her emotions, but because as much as she wanted her brother's crazy idea to work, she just couldn't believe it would. Somebody would remember, or find out, and then everything would be ruined. One moment she decided firmly it was too great a chance to take. Then she slid down the slippery slope of thinking how wonderful it would be if it did work. She felt arms around her - two sets of arms - and heads placed against each side of her own. They said nothing. They were just there.

She looked up with tearstained eyes at her children, first at Robby and then at her daughter.

"You have to tell me what to do," she sobbed. "I don't know what to do."

Debbie had made tremendous strides toward becoming an adult in the past month or so, but she wasn't quite there yet. She pantomimed turning a key to her lips and then threw it over her shoulder.

Ramona raged at them, then jumped up and stalked all around the kitchen, circling the table. She picked up one of her pieces of good china and drew her arm back to throw it, so great was her rage and frustration. A hand gripped her wrist, clamping it in a way that felt completely unbreakable, and the plate was pulled from her fingers. She turned to see Robby, his face grave, and she realized he was seeing her throwing a tantrum.

She wilted, and flowed against her son, who handed the plate to Debbie and hugged his mother tightly. He kissed her hair and said soft words that everything would be all right. Her rage abated as quickly as it had come and she looked over at Debbie, who had tears running down her cheeks too, though she cried silently. There was pain on her face and Ramona couldn't take that. She reached out an arm and drew Debbie into the huddle.

They stayed that way for a long time, just holding each other.

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