Mavis bit her lip. "That's—well. It's quite a story."
"I've got nowhere to be," Wilson said. His eyes were warm.
Mavis breathed in and out slowly. "I mentioned things that are difficult to talk about, but that deserve to be brought out into the air."
Wilson nodded, quietly supportive.
"I mentioned that Nina's adopted," Mavis said. "We didn't know she was a shapeshifter until she was first able to change, as a teenager."
Wilson made an understanding noise. "I'd wondered why you were so curious about shifter culture, if your daughter was a shifter."
Mavis nodded. "Since we weren't part of the community, we'd never heard of shifters. Nina kept it a secret, until one day we saw her. My husband—" Her voice caught.
Wilson had set down his fork. He reached across the table and took her hand.
The warm pressure of his palm against hers somehow gave her the courage to keep speaking. "My husband kicked her out of the house," she whispered. "He called her an unnatural creature, and—and all sorts of names." She swallowed. This was the hardest part. "And I didn't say anything against him. I was too much of a coward, too shocked—I didn't know what to do, and so I did nothing."
She blinked several times, remembering that awful night, Daryl's furious shouting echoing through the house, Nina crying and yelling back, and then that final, horrible slam of the door.
For so many years, that sound had haunted her dreams. The last thing she'd ever heard of her daughter.
Mavis fumbled for her phone. "I'm sorry, I just need—" She had to make sure Nina was all right.
"Whatever you need," Wilson said softly.
But when she found her phone, she saw that she already had a text from Nina. It said, I hear you're having a date with a handsome military man! :)
Mavis smiled helplessly at it, reaching for a napkin to dab at her eyes.
"What is it?" Wilson asked.
"I was going to text Nina, just to be in touch with her, but she's already texted me, teasing me about being out—" Mavis suddenly realized what she was saying, and felt her cheeks flush with heat again. She glanced up across the table.
Wilson was smiling now. "Out with an old paper-pusher like me?"
His voice was gentle, but he was following her lead, taking them out of the fraught subject of Mavis’ past.
"That's...not how she characterized you," Mavis said, relaxing gratefully into the more lighthearted mood. She put the phone down. "I want to tell you the rest of the story," she said, more seriously. "But I don't think I can do it in public."
"Of course. You should do whatever you're most comfortable with," said Wilson. His silver eyes were endlessly kind. "Shall we get the food to go?"
"Let's finish," Mavis decided. "We should really appreciate this as it was meant to be eaten, hot and fresh." And she could use a break from this particular topic of conversation.
"I'm going to have to come back here just to have this steak again," Wilson commented. "It's better than I've had in DC."
"Local beef," Mavis pointed out. "Not much room for cows in the city."
"Too true," Wilson said, with a hint of wistfulness in his voice.
"Do you get out to shift much?" Mavis asked as she took another bite of her fish.
He sighed. "I wish I could, but no. It's too far a drive to get somewhere private enough that no one would noticed a stray snow leopard running around. I spent most of my time in the city—concrete, sidewalks, shopping malls."
“That’s hard,” Mavis sympathized. “I mean—I think it must be. Nina’s told me that it’s difficult to stay in one form all the time.”
“I manage. I suppose it is difficult, but I’ve had many years to get used to it. In the military, even in the shifter units, there aren’t always many opportunities to go out and shift.”
“I suppose not,” Mavis said.