Home To You. Cheryl Wolverton

chance to talk to her and find out. And really, this wasn’t his mom’s job, but his job. Guiltily, he shook his head. “Like I said last night. She passed out right after I arrived.”

      His mother’s lips twitched slightly. “Mary and Margaret have a different take on it, I’m afraid.”

      Dakota grimaced. He’d heard the phone ring earlier this morning and had just been certain it was his neighbors. They’d actually left him and his mom in peace last night. He’d expected Mary or Margaret to launch into a lengthy explanation as soon as his mom had arrived home.

      Instead, they’d patted her hand and told her that all would be well now that she was there and tottered off home—after they had stayed to finish the puzzle, and regale him with tales of every puzzle they had ever put together. Boy, had last night been a night.

      “I can only imagine what they said,” Dakota muttered, figuring they would get to it eventually. He’d seen that look the sisters had shared when his mom had sat down to help with the puzzle.

      “Dakota!” his mother admonished, even though she was forcing her smile away as she spoke.

      “Okay, out with it.” Dakota glanced at his watch and decided he had enough time to hear this before he left. If he left. He felt himself wavering as God spoke to his heart.

      His mother shook her head. “That she dressed scandalously and embraced you were a couple of their comments.”

      Dakota groaned. This was going to take more than a few minutes. It always did when it involved those two ladies.

      “Just as I thought.” His mother chuckled. “Why don’t you tell me the entire story?”

      “She wasn’t dressed scandalously, Mom.” He sat back and prepared to tell his side of the story. Lifting his cup to his lips, he took a sip of his coffee while his mom waited. Setting it aside, he leaned back in his chair, crossed his legs, and began, hesitantly, being careful to be honest but not gossipy. “She looked as if she hadn’t bathed in a month and her makeup was smeared.” He remembered how shocked he’d been at her appearance, how he’d ached wondering what this poor woman had been through. “Her top was askew and one heel on a boot was broken.” He forced his inward gaze back to his mom. “I’ve seen people in similar situations, Mom. Mary and Margaret were simply exaggerating. It was the attack as I came up the porch that threw me, however, and probably what fueled the sisters’ imaginations. The woman told me she wanted to be my sister and then she lunged out at me.”

      He shifted uncomfortably. He loved his mom and cared what she thought, but it was embarrassing to tell her about that bit.

      His mom didn’t laugh, however. Instead, she frowned. “Your sister?”

      He nodded. “We’re not Catholic and she’s not a nun. I would swear her showing up here was simply an accident, but if it is…” He lifted a hand and ran it through his hair in frustration. “What could she have meant?”

      His mother rested one hand on top of the other, her brow furrowing as she contemplated what Cody had said.

      “Maybe your reasoning is where the problem is.”

      “What?” He resisted the urge to glance at his watch. “How do you mean?”

      “Well, she hugs you, calls herself a sister…so perhaps you do know her.”

      Dakota shook his head. “I haven’t met her before, Mom. I would remember her.”

      His mom lifted an eyebrow in a way only a mother can and he squirmed in response. “I meant that she’s a grown woman and in my line of work—”

      “Maybe she wasn’t an adult when you met her. Tell me exactly what she said yesterday.”

      Dakota felt time slipping away and knew he was going to be late. But, to solve this dilemma he needed to recount the story, find an answer and then see to helping this woman. Chandler’s would just have to wait.

      Quickly and concisely, he related all she had said.

      Slowly, his mom nodded. “Think back to your teenage years. You were always so generous. Is it possible you told someone they could move in with us and she could be your sister?”

      Dakota shook his head, then paused. “I wouldn’t have told any girl she could be my sister, but…”

      His mom cocked her head in sudden thought. “There was a little girl, a long time ago. You might not even remember her.” Carolyne paused and studied her son. “She was very special to you. She used to take your side whenever you and your sister would fight.”

      Dakota’s eyes widened. The past came flooding back. Something in grade school he remembered. A playground and a little blond-haired girl. They had spit in each other’s hand. It was fuzzy, but he remembered some incident about her leaving and he didn’t want to lose her…“Molly, Marsha…”

      “Meghan.”

      “Meghan!” Dakota repeated after his mother and leaned forward, shaking his head in disbelief. He hadn’t thought of her in ages. “That’s impossible. It’s been so many years. I wouldn’t know her. She wouldn’t know me.”

      “But you did used to call her your best friend.”

      “She had blond hair, was skinny.” Dakota shook his head, unable to believe what his mom had suggested. “I don’t remember much except that she liked to make mud pies and we liked to swing on the swing set.”

      It couldn’t be, he thought. What would she be doing back here? “Last I heard they moved to Fort Worth.” He paused and then mused aloud. “I always did wonder what happened to her.”

      “The young woman is blond,” Dakota heard his mom say. “She called herself your best friend. True, she was inebriated at the time, but be that as it may, whether it is or is not Meghan, there is one thing you do know.”

      “What’s that?” Dakota asked as more and more snatches of memories presented themselves about a young girl he’d once known.

      “She came to you for help.”

      Dakota snapped to attention as compassion flooded him. Contrite, he realized his mom had made her point without chiding him once.

      He nodded. “Yes, she did.”

      Guilty that he had been in such a hurry, he admitted how wise his mother was. Wisdom came with years and his mom was one of those who had helped guide him and direct him with sage words of advice. She didn’t correct him often, but when she did, she was usually right.

      “Excuse me?”

      Both mother and son turned at the timid sound.

      Dakota had tarried too long, for their guest stood at the bottom of the stairs, dressed in her outfit of the day before and looking much the worse for wear.

      He would have known she was there had she not said anything when the smell hit him.

      Yet, his compassion only grew as he saw the fear, embarrassment and reserved look in the way she stood, arms crossed across her stomach as if holding herself against any onslaught they might make. Her gaze shifted to his mom and then back to him.

      “I am really sorry but…” The woman’s voice came out hoarse and she winced, then lifted a hand to her head. Hangover headache, he thought.

      “Mrs. Ryder?” she asked, though her gaze was on Dakota. Finally, it turned back to his mother.

      His mom rose smoothly and crossed to her. “I am—Carolyne Ryder.”

      The woman stumbled slightly and righted herself. Her cheeks grew a soft rosy pink though the embarrassment in her eyes reflected self-recrimination.

      “I’m so sorry. I should go.” She tried to back away, the embarrassment growing. “I don’t know how I ended up here—”

      “Nonsense.” His mother slipped an arm around