Do You Take This Rebel?. Sherryl Woods

I’d rather go home. If you’ll get the car…” Edna’s voice trailed off.

      Cassie regarded her worriedly. The request was a totally uncharacteristic sign of weakness. “Of course I will. Where did you park?”

      “I can show you,” Jake said.

      “No, you stay right here with your grandmother in case she needs anything. I’ll find the car.”

      “It’s just around the corner,” her mother said, handing her the keys.

      Cassie ran all the way to the car. She hadn’t liked the way her mother looked. Worse, Edna Collins never admitted to an illness of any kind. She had borne everything from colds to appendicitis with stoic resolve during Cassie’s childhood. For her to ask Cassie to get the car, rather than coming along with her, was an incredible admission.

      Cassie found the car parked in front of Dolly’s Hair Salon, whipped it out of the tight parking space and was back at Stella’s in less than five minutes. Her mother all but collapsed into the front seat.

      “That air-conditioning sure feels good,” she said to Cassie. Then, as if determined to reassure her daughter, she added, “The heat just got to me for a minute. I promise that’s all it was.”

      Cassie let the remark pass. She had no intention of discussing her mother’s health with Jake sitting in the back seat, tuned in to every word. The minute they were alone, though, she was determined to get some straight answers. And if she didn’t like them, she was going to call their longtime family physician and get the truth from him.

      Unfortunately, her mother seemed to anticipate her intentions and scooted straight to her room, where she all but slammed the door in Cassie’s face.

      “What on earth?” Cassie murmured, staring at the door.

      She picked up the phone and called the doctor, only to be told he was away until the following week. Frustrated, she had barely hung up when the phone rang. She answered distractedly, then froze at the sound of Cole’s voice.

      “Cassie?” he repeated when she remained silent.

      “What?” she said finally.

      “We need to talk.”

      “I don’t think so.”

      “Well, I do. I’m coming over.”

      She glanced at Jake, who was back in front of the TV. “No, absolutely not,” she said fiercely. “I don’t want you here.”

      “Why not, Cassie? What are you hiding?”

      “I’m not hiding anything. It’s my mother. She’s not feeling well,” she said, grasping at straws. “The last thing she needs is to have the two of us fussing right under her nose.”

      “Then meet me. You pick the place.”

      “Didn’t you hear a word I said? My mother’s not feeling well.”