Blindsided

Part I: Return of the Prodigal Daughter

Mae Avery couldn't remember ever being so tired. It was a good thing that the fog-shrouded, sleepy streets of Wellsboro, Vermont were so familiar she could have found her way home in her sleep (never mind that she hadn't considered this town her home since she'd left for college more than seventeen years ago), since she no longer had the mental energy for navigation. She'd driven through the night, sixteen hours from Chicago, stopping only for bathroom breaks, meals, and an epic argument with her son at a truck stop outside Erie, Pennsylvania.  

Mae glanced at Calvin, asleep in the passenger's seat. He'd given her the silent treatment since their fight, his adolescent fury thickening the air in the tiny car until Mae had scarcely been able to breathe. Not that she blamed him. She'd handled that conversation so badly, it was a wonder she'd been able to convince him to get back into the car with her at all. He'd spent hours last night staring stonily out the windows, refusing to look at her, ignoring her attempts to apologize, to talk to him. When he'd finally fallen asleep, she'd been so relieved to hear his soft snores after hours of tense silence, even though the rhythmic, soporific sound had made her own exhaustion that much harder to hold at bay.  

She considered waking him so he could get his first look at the town where his parents had grown up, but decided against it. A few hours of rest had likely done little to soothe his all-too-justified fury, and she wasn't ready to face that again so soon. He looked so peaceful in his sleep, so young, though he was so tall she often found it hard to believe this big, gangly teenager had ever been her baby boy. The memory of those days, when Calvin was all Mae had, a sweet-smelling babe whose happy perfection had seemed out of place amid the wreckage of her life, brought on a swamping surge of tenderness that washed away the hurt of bitter words spoken between them during the fight. Mae couldn't resist the urge to reach over and smooth a lock of penny-bright hair back from his pale forehead.  

She was so tired, though, moving too slowly, and her mind felt as clouded as the foggy streets. She smiled fondly at her sweet boy, only to have her focus snap back to the road as she realized a car was coming toward them, emerging from the fog a hundred yards ahead, and she'd drifted halfway into the oncoming traffic lane. She grabbed the wheel and jerked back into her own lane, heart pounding, with plenty of time to avoid an accident, but the damage was done: the lightbar on the roof of the approaching car flashed swirling blue, and an abbreviated whoop of a siren's wail cut through the post-dawn silence.  

Mae cursed. "Welcome to Wellsboro," she muttered grimly, steering the car to the curb. This was not the way she'd hoped to make an entrance. Gossip spread like disease here. If anyone saw her pulled over (and this was Main Street), or if the cop said anything to anyone, news of her return would be all over town before lunch. So much for easing back into things... 

She fished her license out of her purse and her insurance and registration out of the glove box, wondering if she'd know the officer. She'd never been a troublemaker, but everyone in town knew Chief Wilkins, since he came into the schools every year to talk to the little kids about stranger danger and the teenagers about date rape and drunk driving. Of course, Chief Wilkins had been in his sixties when she'd known him; Mae doubted he'd still be working almost twenty years later.  

Calvin slept on, still snoring softly. She hoped he stayed asleep and never realized she'd gotten a ticket. He'd be driving soon enough, and Mae had to set an example.  

Knuckles rapped against her window, and Mae looked out, her sheepish smile slipping as her lungs seized. Her whole body went ice cold, then hot, as her suddenly-racing heart pumped too much blood to all her extremities. Exhaustion fled in the wake of sheer panic. Her mouth watered dangerously, and for one interminable, uncomfortable instant, Mae thoughts she might be sick.