After my divorce from Harry seven years ago, I worked hard to make sure the people who mattered to our daughter stayed in her life. That included Harry’s mother, Gloria. We were never especially close, but we managed to stay civil for Letty’s sake. I knew Gloria loved her granddaughter in her own complicated way, and I never wanted my child to lose family because of adult problems.
So when my fifteen-year-old daughter came into the kitchen one Thursday evening and said, “Mom, can I stay with Grandma all weekend?” I didn’t think twice about it.
“Friday through Sunday?” I asked.
She nodded eagerly. “Grandma wants to bake cookies and look through old photo albums.”
I smiled and brushed a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “Sounds fun. Just text me once in a while, okay?”
She promised she would.
Friday night, she sent me a quick message about burnt cookies. Saturday afternoon, I got a blurry photo of flour-covered hands and cookie dough. Everything seemed perfectly normal.
Nothing prepared me for the way she walked through the front door Sunday evening.
Normally, Letty burst into the house talking before she even took her shoes off. She would toss her backpack on the floor, hug me with one arm, and immediately start telling me every detail of her weekend.
This time, she slipped inside silently.
Her hood was pulled low over her face. She didn’t even bend down to pet Orry, our cat, who circled her legs in confusion.
“Hey, sweetheart,” I said carefully. “How was Grandma’s house?”
“Fine.”
Just one word.
Something about the way she said it made my stomach tighten.
“No stories? No baking disasters?” I tried to joke.
“I’m tired, Mom.”
She kept her face turned away.
“Letty,” I said softly, “look at me.”
Instead, she whispered, “Please don’t start,” and hurried down the hallway.
Seconds later, her bedroom door slammed shut.
Then came the sound of the lock clicking.
At first, I tried to convince myself it was normal teenage behavior. Teenagers had mood swings. They got emotional over things adults didn’t understand.
But when dinner was ready and she texted me asking me to leave the plate outside her bedroom door, fear started creeping in.
The next morning, she still refused to come out.
CONTINUE READING...>>
To see the full cooking instructions, go to the next page or click the Open button (>) and don't forget to SHARE it with your friends on Facebook.
