“I had a couple of girlfriends. They lived on the same block as me. I wasn’t allowed to hang out with them until the weekends so I didn’t get to—”
“Why not?”
“What?”
“Why couldn’t you see them until the weekends?”
“Oh. My father wouldn’t allow it. I had chores to do after school and dinner to put on the table. Then I had homework at night.”
He frowned. “But in the summer . . .”
“In the summer there were chores during the day. And I got sent to my grandparents’ farm a lot, so my parents didn’t have to wonder what I was up to during the times my dad was working.”
“The farm, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Bet that was fun.”
Her lips curled up remembering times on the farm, some of the best—only—good memories of her childhood. “It was, actually. My grandpa taught me to ride a tractor, and they had horses. My grandma taught me to bake pies from scratch—’ ”
He sat up straight and turned to face her. “Aha! You can cook.”
She laughed. “That was a long time ago, Gavin. I don’t remember.”
“So you say. I’ll bet you could remember. How many summers did you spend at your grandparents’ farm?”
She tilted her head back, trying to remember. “I first remember going there when I was about five. Last time I went I was sixteen.”
“So eleven years. That’s a lot of pie making.”
Her lips lifted. “Sixteen was a long time ago.”
He leaned back again, drawing close to her so he could nuzzle her neck. “Would you make me a pie, Elizabeth?”
She nudged her shoulder at him. “You’re out of your mind. I don’t cook. You’re supposed to cook for me, remember?”
“I’ll make you dinner if you bake a pie.”
“I don’t cook for anyone.”
“But you’ll bake for me, right?”
Sometimes he was like a kid. Exasperating. But it was one of the things she loved most about him. “We’ll talk about it.”
“No, we’ll settle it right now. You’re the great negotiator. You taught me that one yourself. We settle the deal while it’s on the table.”
“Bastard. And here I thought you never paid attention. Fine. I’ll make you a pie. Or I’ll try to remember how to do it. No guarantees. I might end up poisoning you.”
“I’ll take my chances. So, back to you being a kid. You got to see your friends on the weekends, right?”
“Yeah. I had two best friends, Lindsey and Denise. I got to swim in Lindsey’s pool in the summers.”
“Nice.”
“It was. We used to do everything together. Sometimes I’d get to sleep over at their houses but not very often.”
“Why not?”
“My father wouldn’t let me. Said my place was at home with my family.”
“Your father was strict?”
She snorted. “That’s an understatement. He ruled our home with an iron fist. My mother had to report in every second of her life. Where she was going, what she was doing, who she was seeing. God forbid she wasn’t at her desk if he happened to call her office. He’d go off into a tirade about that.”
“Why?”
“He had to be in control. His whole life was about controlling people. Controlling her, controlling me. The world would stop turning if he didn’t know what we were doing every moment of the day. That’s why he didn’t work much. How could he work and manage us at the same time?”
Gavin didn’t say anything. Dammit, why had she offered up so much information? She’d only meant to talk about Lindsey and Denise, and the fun they had. She’d meant to keep it light. But, oh, no, she’d just had to talk about her father.
“I’m sorry about your dad. That must have been hard on you.”
“I avoided him, defied him when I could.”
“And your mother?”
She pressed her lips together, determined not to talk about it.
“Elizabeth? What about your mom?”
“She did whatever he told her to do like the good robot she was. He told her to be home at a certain time, and she was. Canned goods had to be organized in a certain way in the cabinet, and they were. Towels had to be folded just right, or she had to do it over again until they were. She had no friends, because why did she need friends when she had him to take care of, and God knows he was a full-time job. She was supposed to spend all of her time with him.”
He reached under the blanket and took her hand in his. “I’m sorry. That’s no life for a kid. There must have been a lot of tension in the house.”
She shrugged, tried to pull her hand away, but he didn’t let go. “It wasn’t that bad. I managed just fine.”
“It sounds like it was a nightmare.”
She didn’t want to answer, but something compelled her. “It was hell.”
“But you survived it. And knowing who you are now, I’d bet he couldn’t control you.”
She laughed. “No, he couldn’t. I wouldn’t let him. He tried, and he did when I was younger, but by the time I hit high school, he was too busy managing every second of my mother’s life and had to choose between her or me.”
“And he chose her.”
“Yeah.” She sighed. “Lucky her.”