“SO IT wasn’t a bomb?” The edge of terror that my mother had hidden so well from her audience earlier on now trembled through her voice as she interrogated her interrogators inside the house-for-sale.
I had to strain my human ears to their utmost and nearly relinquish my body to the wolf in order to hear what she had to say from my point of incarceration within the cop car. But the effort was well worth it for the insights provided into my mother’s character.
Celia had seemed so spineless when I was a child. Long angry silences, explosive bouts of tears, even her screaming fits had been as impotent as they were tempestuous.
Now, in contrast, the one-body’s fear was barely audible as she tamped the emotion down in consideration for the people around her. Celia hadn’t raised her voice onc
