Cadence nodded. “But it still feels like it’s only yours.”
Mark thought for a moment. “I have an idea.”
***
Cadence checked her bank account balance on her phone.
“So what do you think?” Mark asked.
“No more than two hundred, and I really shouldn’t be spending that,” she replied.
“You’re forgetting I’ve got coupons,” Mark said, holding them up.
He called all of his female friends and asked if they had Bed Bath and Beyond coupons they were willing to part with. Most said no at first until he explained his situation with Cadence. Then they all felt sorry for her and arranged times for him to pick up the coupons. He ended up with thirty.
“You can make 200 dollars go a long way,” he said.
She grinned and looked at her list. “Kitchen gadgets.”
“I don’t have enough?” Mark asked, walking beside her as she pushed the cart.
“You’re missing a few things,” she replied.
He smirked but said nothing. The girl didn’t even cook. What would she know about kitchen gadgets?
Cadence reached for a silicone brush. “I thought we needed a new one of these.”
He thought for a moment. The only brush he owned was wooden, stained, and disgusting. She was right. They needed a new one.
“Perfect,” he said.
“And this.” Cadence pointed to a spin bowl meant for drying lettuce.
Mark hid his grin. “You’re right. Much easier than manually drying it.”
She placed it in the cart and moved on.
“I want new bedding,” she said.
“Well, there’s your 200 bucks right there,” he replied.
“I’m okay with that if you are.”
“It’s your money.”
“Yeah, and it’s your bed, too,” she said. “I want to get something we both like. It’s our bed.”
“So you want my input?”
“For this, yes.”
Cadence froze when she rounded the corner of the bedding section.
Her mother. Just yards away debating between two comforters.
The ache was instantaneous. She felt it tingle in her fingertips and nose. Her instinct was to run, throw herself on her mother, and crush her in a hug. As though Mrs. Miller could sense this, she turned around slowly, locked eyes with her daughter, and stared.
“Mommy,” Cadence mouthed. She felt the brimming tears, hovering, longing to spill forth. “Please,” she choked out.
Her mother dropped the comforter sets and ran to her daughter. She wrapped her up, holding her harder than she meant to, inhaling the strawberry scent of Cadence’s hair.
“Mom!” Cadence wailed into her mother’s shirtfront. “Where have you been?!”
“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Miller whispered, her eyes streaming. “I’m sorry.”
“Where have you been?!” The tears leaked—one right after the other—soaking her mother. She wanted her to feel it, ache for those tears, that pain of separation and despair.
Mark backed away to give them their space. It wasn’t his place to step in, but he would if Mrs. Miller said or did anything hurtful. He was resentful of her for going along with Mr. Miller’s insane plan to disown Cadence, and he couldn’t understand how a mother would even allow it. Maybe she didn’t have the backbone. Maybe she, too, was scared of him. Everyone in the whole damn world seemed to be scared of Mr. Miller. The anger in Mark’s heart intensified. He wasn’t sure he wanted Mrs. Miller to touch his girlfriend after all.
“I was wrong,” Mrs. Miller said, pulling away from Cadence and looking her in the eyes. “I was wrong to stay away. Your father . . .” Her voice trailed off.
“He can’t tell you what to do!” Cadence cried.
Mrs. Miller averted her eyes. “I’m not strong like you, honey.”
“I needed you,” Cadence said. “And you weren’t there. You’re my mother!”
“I know,” Mrs. Miller replied. “I’m still your mother.”
“Are you?” Cadence wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands.
“Always.”
“Then why won’t you come and see me?”
Mrs. Miller breathed in deeply. “I have to be respectful of your father.”
Cadence’s eyes went wide. Mark narrowed his and decided now was the appropriate time to intervene.
“What?” Cadence breathed.
Mrs. Miller tried to explain. “He’s the head of our household, Cadence. I can’t go against his wishes.”
Cadence’s mouth dropped open.
“That . . . that’s his role in our house. He’s the head. I-I’m being obedient.” She sounded like she wasn’t altogether sure she believed it.
Cadence stared, unable to absorb the words.
Mark put his arm around Cadence’s waist. Mrs. Miller tensed at the sight of him.
“Hello,” she said stiffly.
“Lydia,” Mark replied, inclining his head.
“But he’s wrong,” Cadence whispered. “Why are you obeying him if he’s wrong?”
“It’s not that simple,” Mrs. Miller said.
“Actually it is,” Mark argued. “It is that simple. You have a daughter who needs you. And you reject her because your husband’s crazy.”