Chapter Eight

I awoke to someone knocking on my door.

Three more taps—knock, knock, knock—while I decided to answer it.

“Who is it?”

When did I fall asleep?

“It’s Amelia. May we talk?”

Rubbing salt smudges off my cheeks, I rolled off the bed to my feet and unlocked the door. “Is it important, Amelia?”

She fidgeted with the ring on her right hand. “About today…”

“I let my temper get the best of me, and I’m sorry.” Deep breath. “If the world really is in danger, Amelia, you need someone more mature than me. I just want to go home.”

Her mouth tightened into an angry line. “Fear is not a reason to quit, Della.”

She turned to walk away.

“Hey. This isn’t about fear. I’m a sixteen-year-old girl from a small town. Not a soldier. I didn’t sign on for any war, and at my age in the US of A, you can’t press me into service!”

She paused, her back rigidly straight. “You’re determined.”

“Yes.”

“Very well. We are not heartless, and we will not force you against your will.”

“Thank you. You’ll send me home.”

She sighed, and her shoulders slumped. “Yes.”

It didn’t take me long to pack my duffle bag. It’d never been completely emptied in the first place.

She and Thirteen were arguing in hushed tones when I came up topside. They stopped when the basement door shut and he walked down the hall without lookin’ at me.

That stung a bit. I liked him personally.

The ride to the airport was silent.

She bought me a plane ticket and sent me to the gate without a goodbye.

Made me feel guilty for not being the hero she hoped for.

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Mama met me in Oklahoma City. I wrapped my arms around her and squeezed.

She squeaked. “Breathing room, honey.”

“Sorry.” My cheeks turning pink, I let go. “I’ve been working out.”

She squeezed my biceps. “I can tell. I’m thrilled to have you home, but I thought this was a three-month camp?”

“I… I got homesick. The place was too quiet and all they had me do was work and study. Rather be in the diner if I’m gonna do that.”

She wrapped her arm around my waist and steered me to the car. “Aww, that’s what I like to hear. You know, you’re back just in time for the ice cream social on Sunday.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Never been so happy to see my hometown in all my life. Not that we’d ever been farther out than an hour or two before, but to see the old houses, big ol’ trees, and Victorian-age commercial buildings of Downtown…just this side of Heaven.

I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face.

Made her laugh at me. “Think you’d been away a year, Della.”

“Kinda feels that way.” I rolled the window down. “Nothin’ smelled right!”

She drove straight home.

Mama was “country when country wasn’t cool” and our house reflected it. Lots of gingham in the living room and kitchen, and her bedroom was decorated in flowers and lace. An old quilt hung on the wall behind the sofa, and an afghan my grandmother crocheted was draped over the armchair. Our house still had wood floors, so knotted-rag rugs kept the furniture from scratching them. It was small, but we didn’t need much.

“Do I smell a roast?”

“With carrots and little white potatoes, and those pearl onions you like so much.”

“Mama, you’re spoilin’ me.”

“Just happy to have my baby girl home! Go freshen up and put your things away.”

I grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

For her roast, I’d scrub my clothes clean by hand.

I shut my bedroom door to change into something comfy and caught sight of my reflection. The girl looking back in the full-length mirror was me, but not me…or rather, a changed me. She had a bit of color from the days running outside and no longer came across like a young kid, but that was superficial.

It was the look in my eyes that made me pause—the absence of total innocence. I was young, and sheltered, yet there were things I knew now. Things I couldn’t erase.

What would I tell her when she asked? ‘Cause she was definitely going to notice.

Mama didn’t miss a trick when it came to my moods.

“Deal with it when it comes and not a moment sooner,” I muttered, and changed into shorts and a loose tee. Anything dirty got dumped in the hamper.

I stopped at the bathroom, then walked out for dinner.

The wood floor felt good on my hot bare feet.

“Mama, you made too much food.” Besides the roast with veggie trimmings, she had a bowl of green beans with bits of onion and bacon on the table and a full basket of rolls.

“No such thing. Gives us leftovers. Sit.”

I sat. My stomach gurgled. After a month of plain chicken, this was going to taste as good as water to a parched man wandering the desert. The moment Mama said “amen” for grace, I reached for a slice of beef.

“Did they feed you?” she asked, her eyes a little wide.

“Yeah.” I stuffed a chunk in my mouth. Pure nirvana.

“Slow down, Della. You’ll give yourself a belly ache.”

“Sorry,” I said, mouth full of potato. It was just so good.

She grinned. “S’pose it won’t hurt you much. You’re too skinny, anyway.”

Hey…

I hadn’t whittled away my curves, thank you very much. My boobs were actually perkier thanks to the new muscle underneath. But my clothes did fit differently now.

Once my stomach was convinced the roast wasn’t going to disappear, I asked her about the diner and the latest town gossip. That got her talking until my eyes began to droop and I was ready for bed. Mmm, my own bed…

Where I had no nightmares, finally.