Cinnamon (Shooting Stars 1)

5 Surprised by Love

The stillness in the house greeted me like a slap in the face. Grandmother Beverly's car was here, which meant she was home, but I didn't hear the television droning or any sounds coming from the kitchen. Was she already asleep? Good, I thought. I didn't want to face her at the moment. I started up the stairs, my head down, and lifted it only when I turned the knob on my bedroom door and was shocked to discover it wouldn't open.

It wouldn't open because a lock and a hasp had been installed and the lock was closed.

Both amazed and confused. I stepped back and cried. "What?" I had to touch it to believe it was really there. A lock on my own door?

"Grandmother!" I screamed. I spun around, but she didn't appear. I marched to her bedroom door and threw it open. She wasn't in her room, so I charged back to the stairway and pounded my way down, spinning at the bottom and rushing to the living room

door.

There she was, seated comfortably like some queen mother, waiting for me.

"Why is there a lock on my door?"

She glared at me, her eves small but so full of anger they looked capable of shooting out small flames in my direction.

"Where have you been today-- and don't make up any ridiculous story about going to the hospital to be with your mother," she quickly warned. "I'm talking about the whole day from the moment you rushed out of this house without breakfast until now. Well?" she demanded, holding her body stiffly forward.

"Why are you asking me that and how dare you put a lock on my bedroom door?" I flared back at her, flashing my eyes with temper as hot and red as hers.

She sat back, a cold twisted smirk on her face.

"First. I'm asking because the school called here looking for you. Apparently, someone there was concerned about you and wanted to know how you were and why you weren't at school," she revealed.

Miss Hamilton. I thought to myself.

"Can you even begin to imagine how embarrassed I was when I had to reveal you weren't home and I didn't have any idea where you were?

"I called your father." she added, nodding. "I had to, of course."

"Really?" I replied, folding my arms under my breasts and placing my weight on my right foot. "and what did he have to say?"

"Fortunately for you. I was unable to reach him at the time."

"Is that so? Why? What did they tell you? Was he with a client, at a meeting, what?"

"That has nothing to do with our situation," she said.

"Where were you?"

"Why is there a lock on my door?" I asked instead of answering.

"I put that lock on your door so you couldn't do what you always do when I question you or try to guide you... run off to your room and lock yourself inside. I'll unlock it when you tell me the truth. Now, where were you?"

"How dare you do this. Grandmother? That's my room!" I shouted at her, tears burning my eyelids.

"Until your mother returns. I have to be the one in charge of you, responsible for you. You are still a minor and your father is a very busy man with a great deal on his mind these days."

"Oh, yes," I said shaking my head. "my father is a very, very busy man. He's too busy to visit my mother. He's too busy to know she's fallen into a coma. That's a very busy man." I said.

"Mothers and daughters have to realize that their husbands and fathers can't be at their beck and call every minute. They're out there in the hard, cold world trying to make a living, trying to earn enough to provide and keep you comfortable. Who do you think pays the mortgage on this ridiculous relic of a house, and who pays for the food you eat and the gas you waste driving around in that car of yours, and who gave you that car and who--"

"And who cares?" I shouted, covering my ears with my hands. "Take it all back, everything!"

I turned and fled from her. When I reached my bedroom door again, I tried to pull the lock off. but I couldn't do it. Who could have ever imagined her doing something like this? Did meanness make people more inventive?

Instead of continuing my confrontation with her. I went up to the attic and threw myself on the small settee where I curled up in a fetal position and closed my eyes. My pounding heart calmed. The emotional tension had drained my body of all of its energy. I pulled the old afghan over myself, closed my eyes and almost immediately fell asleep.