Chapter Twenty-Eight – Rule #2
Smiling through her tears, Mom hugged her tightly. “I love you, Rule.”
“I love you, too, Mom,” Rule choked out.
“Are you hungry?”
He was suddenly ravenous. “Yeah,” he said, sniffling.
“Okay. I’ll see about getting us lunch.” She wheeled him to Rebel and put the brakes in place. “Would you like Father Wilkins and Freya to join us?”
“Did he try to keep you from seeing me?”
“It was a miscommunication, love.” She slid her fingers through his hair. “Don’t stress yourself out.”
Mom was doing what she did best—smoothing things over. Rule decided to let it go. Once he talked to Father Wilkins, he’d think about telling Dad.
“I have a friend I’d like you and Rebel to meet. Her name is Bianca. Can she have lunch with us, too?”
“I want to meet her,” Rebel piped in.
“If you want her with us, then nothing will stop her from being there,” Mom promised, kissed his cheek again, and glided away so she’d arrange their meal.
Rule had never been happier and settled in to spend the day with Mom and Reb.
An hour after Rule received the best surprise of his life, Mom returned to where she’d left him and Rebel.
“Everything’s ready,” she announced.
Though he didn’t see Bianca, he wasn’t worried. He’d asked for her and, unlike Father Wilkins, Mom went out of her way to make him happy.
Mom glided over to take control of his wheelchair while Freya wheeled an empty one next to Rebel’s seat.
“I-I can walk,” his sister said.
“We’re going to the bluffs,” she said. “This will be easier.”
“We’ll match,” Rule told her.
That decided his twin. She smiled and nodded to Freya.
Once they were both settled in, Mom led the way to double doors marked with a sign that said private access. She dug in her pocket and came up with a keycard that she waved in front of the black scanner.
On the other side of the door was a hallway with a series of offices.
At the end was an exit, their destination.
There, she waved the keycard again. When the doors opened, breeziness, sunshine, and the tang of the ocean hit Rule.
Tall palm trees stood on each side of a pathway.
Patches of grass dotted the landscape as Mom wheeled him toward a table that sat on the bluff, the roaring waves far below a peaceful soundtrack to a beautiful day.
Father Wilkins and Bianca were already there, along with a man and woman wearing black jeans, shirts, and aprons.
“Would you like me to play music?” Mom asked.
“After we eat, like at home?” he responded, cheered at the prospect. Every night, Mom and Dad went to the den with them where they talked and laughed and danced. Until Rule’s friends told him it was sinful. “Can I choose?”
“Of course, sweetheart. I’ll give you my phone.”
As they closed the distance, Bianca stood from her seat, nervously wringing her hands, a first for her. Between the two of them, she was always the confident one, the upbeat one that Rule drew his strength from. Mom parked Rule at an empty spot at the table, directly across from Father Wilkins.
She threw him the evil eye and the priest flushed.
“I’m Rebel,” his sister greeted, still behind him. “Rule’s twin.”
Rule turned to see her hold out her hand to Bianca. He realized he hadn’t introduced her or Mom to Freya.
Biting her lip, Bianca shifted from foot to foot but didn’t move to accept Rebel’s hand. Instead, she glanced hesitantly at Rule as if she wanted protection, approval, or reassurance, another first. Usually, he sought comfort. He nodded to her.
“I’m Bianca,” she said, the wind blowing through her curls. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“This is my mom,” Rule told her, indicating Mom with a wave of his hand. “Megan Caldwell.”
“Oh.” Bianca’s throat worked. “Uh—”
Discomfort swirled in Rule’s gut. He wanted to say that they were the ones he’d tried to kill, but it might upset Mom and Rebel, and send them away.
“N-nice to meet you both,” Bianca stammered. “I’ve heard a lot about you both.” The moment the words left her mouth, she cringed. “I mean—”
Mom walked to her and held out her arms. “May I?” she asked, always a hugger.
Bianca nodded.
Smiling, Mom gave her a quick squeeze, shorter than Bianca. Even if she’d worn heels instead of a tennis shoe and orthopedic boot, Bianca would’ve been taller. “It seems as if you know what happened to Rebel and me.”
“Maybe,” Bianca mumbled and swept her gaze over Rebel, then looked at Mom again. “Is it…is it true? Uh, never mind.”
Mom looked at Rule, silently asking permission to talk.
“Go ahead, Mom.”
The truth couldn’t be any worse than the rumors.
“Rule loves us as much as we love him,” Mom said fiercely. “What happened almost a month ago was unfortunate. All three of us were in grave danger that night. But we forgive him.” She gave him a stark look, filled with pain and regret. “I hope he can forgive us. Me. I am so sorry, son.”
“You did nothing wrong, Mom,” Rule whispered.
“I ignored you. If I would’ve gotten you help…I was remiss. More than remiss. I was neglectful. I neglected you. My carelessness almost cost me you and Rebel.”
“And your own life,” he told her.
“Yes, but we survived. Can you forgive me for all the mistakes I made?”
“Dad had a responsibility too.”
“He did,” Mom agreed.
Rule’s stomach growled. “I love you, Mom. I always have. Thank you for being so loving and strong.”
She blew him a kiss, then smiled at Bianca. “I’ve heard you and Rule meet in the chapel sometimes.”
“Prayer is important to me,” she said.
“Would you like to say grace?” Mom asked.
“Really?”
“Mrs. Caldwell doesn’t say anything she doesn’t mean,” Father Wilkins chirped.
“Remember that when you end up tossed from that cliff,” Mom grumbled.
“It was a misunderstanding, Mrs. Caldwell. I got my days mixed up. If I remembered you wanted to see Rule, I never would’ve gotten permission to take him off-premises.”
“Uh huh,” Mom said, unimpressed.
A giggle escaped Bianca and she clapped a hand over her mouth.
“Is it okay if I went for my own lunch?” Freya asked. She’d been standing silently, her hands resting on Rebel’s wheelchair as she waited to roll her to wherever Mom directed.
“You’re joining us,” Mom said, flicking her wrist toward the table. “You’re my son’s caregiver. That makes you family.”
“I love your blue hair,” Rebel said, so very subdued.
“Thank you.”
“You aren’t telling Mr. Caldwell about my mix-up, are you?” the priest asked.
Mom shrugged, then smiled at Rule. “Let’s eat.”
“Meggie,” Father Wilkins started, waiting until Freya wheeled Rebel next to Rule, and everyone took their seats. “Please don’t. And don’t take away my guardianship. It was a mistake.”
“If it happens again, that will be the mistake. For the time being, the guardianship will remain in place since you’re free to look after my son while he’s in LA.”
“Thank you.”
It was the first time Rule had ever seen the priest so subdued.
Maybe miracles were real, after all.