Hello Dear Readers!
I've had this story on the back burner for, well...forever at this point. Originally it was going to be a one-shot but I've decided to break it up into chapters. I'm thinking 3? This is really all I've got organized right now. The rest is a bunch of random notes and bits of story written. Hoping that by posting this, I'll get my shit together to keep going.
Note: I've made an Ao3 account so you can find me there as well under same screenname.
Chapter 1: Grounded
Twenty-year-old Rachel Berry stood outside a familiar row home in Queens, shifting from foot to foot as she worked up the courage to knock on the front door. It wasn't a common occurrence for her to feel anxious about facing the woman behind that door. Normally she couldn't wait until Friday rolled around so she could go visit her favorite middle school teacher.
Shelby Corcoran was a tough-as-nails teacher with a heart of gold. She had taught Rachel eighth grade English. Truthfully, Rachel had been intimidated by the stern teacher those first few weeks of school but grew to love her as the year progressed. Shelby had helped Rachel through a tough year full of bullying and no friends. And she had stayed in touch with the young teen through high school and now into her second year of college. Truly, Shelby was the mother Rachel never had, having grown up with two loving fathers instead.
Shelby had been there to offer guidance and advice all through Rachel's teenage years, as well as her fair share of stern words whenever the girl needed it (something she didn't tend to get from her doting fathers). Rachel had always craved the attention from the maternal figure, taking the woman's words to heart even when they were to scold.
Rachel knew she was in for a pretty serious scolding tonight. Shelby had been informed by Kurt (that fink!) that Rachel had been skipping most of her physics lectures this semester and her grade in the class was dropping. Shelby had sent her a text earlier asking her if she was still coming that evening as planned. When Rachel replied in the affirmative, Shelby dropped the bomb, revealing that she knew all about Rachel's class and her grade, and that they would be sitting down and having a long talk about it come this evening. That had made Rachel's stomach flutter and flip, but nothing compared to the text she had received just thirty minutes ago. She was running late to Shelby's and had expected a text…just not the one she got.
Where are you? Get your butt to my house so I can beat it!
Rachel had been on the subway when that message came through and had audibly gasped. She had gotten a few looks from those closest to her but ignored them as her mind raced. Shelby couldn't possibly mean that literally…could she?
The twenty-year-old looked down at her phone and reread that message for what must have been the thousandth time, then eyed the door warily. She couldn't stay out here all night, and she didn't want to. She loved seeing Shelby. She was even still looking forward to tonight—Shelby was making her favorite, eggplant parmesan (vegan, of course), and then they planned to catch up on this week's episode of Project Runway. Rachel only wished that she knew if her mentor was serious or not in that text.
Surely she wasn't…but on the other hand, Shelby had once swatted a fifteen-year-old Rachel. The teenager had been visiting Shelby one Saturday afternoon and they were making chocolate chip cookies. She couldn't remember exactly what she had said, but she knew it had been something meant as a joke that came out more smart-alecky than intended. It had all happened so quickly. Rachel remembered how Shelby had turned on her with that scary teacher face that had so intimidated her once upon a time, the sudden fear and guilt that had bubbled in her chest at clearly having upset the woman she looked up to and adored, and finally the surprise and then shock she felt when Shelby had laughed and swatted her with a wooden spoon. The girl hadn't even seen the woman pick it up! The swat left the barest of faint stings, obviously meant to be playful, but Rachel, always so dramatic, had yelped and flung a hand back to rub just the same, all while giving Shelby a hurt-puppy look. Rachel could still see the teasing look the older brunette had given her and hear her words as if she had just spoken them this minute. "That'll teach you not to mouth off to your mother, won't it?"
Those words still brought a smile to Rachel's face. Your mother. Of course, Shelby wasn't really her mother, but she and Rachel had cultivated a familial relationship over the years, Rachel even calling her Mom and Shelby introducing her as her daughter when they were out together. Rachel's fathers were initially jealous of the role Shelby had grown to have in their daughter's life, but even they had had to admit the benefits that came from Rachel having a trusted adult (and female to boot!) she could talk to and seek help from for things she wasn't comfortable going to her dads for—especially those matters that dealt with the more delicate issues of growing up and becoming a woman.
In turn, Rachel knew that her own role in Shelby's life meant a great deal to the woman. Shelby had long since been divorced, had one son, Jesse, who was twelve years older than Rachel and living in Northern Virginia with a wife and family of his own, but wasn't able to get away from work often to visit. The year that Rachel walked into Shelby's English class was the same year her son had moved away, and Shelby had said on more than one occasion that Rachel had come into her life at a time when she needed it most too.
Rachel was pulled from her thoughts as her phone buzzed in her hand and she saw "Momma S" flash across her lock screen. Shelby was calling! Slightly panicked, Rachel's thumb fumbled once before she was able to swipe to answer.
"H-Hi, Mom," she said, wincing as her voice cracked.
"Alright, Rach, seriously, where are you? It's not like you to be this late. I'm starting to worry about you, kiddo. Are you okay?" came Shelby's concerned voice in her ear.
More guilt bubbled inside and Rachel let out a sigh before replying, "I know, I'm sorry. I'm right outside—just got here."
A second later, Rachel heard the deadbolt unlock and then the door was opening, revealing the beaming face of Shelby Corcoran. Arms opened and Rachel was pulled into a quick hug before being dragged inside the light and warmth of the house.
The delicious smells of dinner wafted towards her nose and coupled with the familiar smell of Shelby's favorite perfume, Rachel couldn't help but relax. She was home.
"I'm sorry I'm late…and for worrying you. I didn't mean to," Rachel offered as Shelby took her coat and backpack and stored them in the closet. She bit her lip and shifted her feet when the woman turned back towards her. "Dinner smells wonderful, Mom," she added, figuring a bit of buttering up couldn't hurt.
"It's okay, sweetheart. You know me, I worry about you regardless. Momma's prerogative, right?" Shelby said with a wink. "Now come on, the food's almost ready. You can keep me company while I finish up."
Shelby led the way from the foyer down a narrow hallway, past a small sitting room and Shelby's study, to the back of the house where it opened into the kitchen/dining area and family room. Rachel followed a pace behind, wondering when Shelby was going to start in on her about her class. She knew it was coming and didn't want to be caught off guard—especially since they were heading to the very area of the house where a certain wooden spoon could be snatched up at a moment's notice. And Rachel was almost certain that if it was, it wouldn't be for play.
"So how was your day, my little rebel? And your classes? You did go to all of them today, I hope?" Shelby asked as she rounded the island to check on the meal.
Rachel noted with relief that while Shelby did sound exasperated, there was also a hint of amusement in her voice too. She chose to monopolize on that. "I…went to all the important ones?" she ventured. She ducked her head at the glare her adoptive mother shot her over her shoulder.
"Rachel," Shelby warned, and there was no amusement in her tone now. "I obviously know you've been skipping at least one class and your grade is starting to reflect that. Are there any others I need to know about? Now's the time to tell me if there is."
"Mooom, I'm not," Rachel found herself whining before she could stop herself. "And it's not—my grade isn't dependent on attendance for that class."
"But your ability to learn and understand the material is dependent on it, is it not? Why are you skipping anyway? That's not like you—you've always been very responsible when it comes to school. What's changed? Is it a boy?" Shelby fired questions at her as she dipped a fork into the boiling pasta water and fished out a long linguine noodle. Bringing the fork to her mouth, Shelby took a small bite from the noodle and then nodded to herself. "No boy is worth changing for and certainly not failing a class for. Grab the strainer for me, please."
Rachel rolled her eyes at the woman's back but did as she was asked. She handed it over and then went to collect plates and silverware to set the table, knowing that would be the next request. "Nothing's changed, no there's not a boy, and I'm not failing."
"That's not what Kurt told me," Shelby disputed. "He said you bombed the midterm and are worried about your final grade—but apparently not enough to go to class."
"I didn't bomb it. It wasn't ideal but—and being worried about my final grade doesn't mean I'm failing, I just—"
"Do not lie to me," Shelby warned, turning to face the girl with hands on her hips.
"I'm not!"
"Rachel—"
"I'm not failing," Rachel insisted. "I'm just…barely—" She made the mistake of catching Shelby's eye in that moment and faltered, finishing in little more than a whisper, "—passing." Rachel licked her lips and felt her cheeks grow warm in shame. Shelby's eyes had narrowed to little more than slits and she gave Rachel a look that made it exceedingly clear that she didn't appreciate her subtle distinction on the matter of her grade.
"Alright, young lady," Shelby began sternly, "I am going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that because I started this conversation out lightly, you mistook that to mean this is a joking matter. It is not. Now, I need you to stop playing around and be serious. If you can't do that on your own, I am more than happy to help you get there—but it'll mean losing the ability to sit at dinner. I doubt you want that."
"Momma!" Rachel gasped, her cheeks flushing crimson. She hastily sank into a dining chair—while one not-so-veiled threat was most likely all bark, two surely brought with it a definite bite.
Shelby ignored her protest to get back to the matter at hand. "What's going on, Rach? Why are you skipping this class? Is someone bothering you?" she asked, heavy with concern. "Are you doing your assignments? Having trouble understanding the material? Why didn't you come to me when you first started having a problem? You know I'll always help you."
Rachel sighed and guilt ate at her belly as Shelby's questions continued. The concern her mom had for her, her willingness to help, the fierce protectiveness she displayed at all times—they were just some of the many reasons why she loved this woman so much, adored her, and looked up to her. And it was why she felt so bad disappointing her, as she had now. "No, it's nothing like that. And I know you would…I'm sorry," she offered to Shelby's back as the woman pulled their meal out of the oven.
"Bring the plates back over—it'll be easier," was all Shelby said for the moment. Rachel stood to do as directed, letting the older brunette dish out two portions. She returned to the table with the food as Shelby followed once she had gotten them both drinks.
"I underestimated how hard this class would be," Rachel began, taking a bite of her eggplant and humming in pleasure. "This is so good, Mom!"
"Thank you, love," Shelby said after her own bite. It was good—she had finally perfected this recipe.
"It's Physics: Light & Color—the description said it was physics for non-physics majors. It sounded interesting and I needed one more science with a lab to finish those credits," Rachel continued explaining. "I wasn't expecting it to be this hard!"
"Rachel, it's physics," Shelby shook her head in disbelief. "Whatever possessed you to take this course? Surely there was another lab science that would have counted for your credits?"
"I don't know, I didn't want to take biology and have to dissect things! I couldn't have handled that, Mom. And I figured I'd just blow things up if I tried chemistry. There weren't a lot of options!"
"You still haven't explained why you've been skipping. If you thought the class sounded interesting but it's hard, you should be going to all of them, regardless of whether or not attendance counts towards your grade. How many times does this class meet a week?" Shelby inquired.
"It's an 8AM lecture on Mondays and Wednesdays, and lab on Fridays. But it's so boring! Like, serious snooze fest. Everyone skips or ducks out early and the professor never notices—or doesn't care," Rachel said.
"Rachel—"
"No, really, you don't understand. It's in this huge lecture hall with a bunch of other people, and the professor's an old Greek man with a thick accent who drones on and on and on for an hour straight. I've seen multiple people sleeping in class—drool coming outta their mouths and everything!"
"Rachel!" Shelby scolded.
"What? It's not like I have to get an A or anything. I just have to pass," Rachel shrugged. She twirled her pasta around on her fork and brought it to her mouth.
"Which you're only barely accomplishing," Shelby pointed out, emphasizing the young woman's words from earlier.
Rachel let out a long sigh and put her fork down, not having taken her bite. There was nothing else to say to that except…"You're right," she relented, hunching her shoulders at the look now directed at her.
"Of course I am," Shelby agreed, earning a groan and eye roll from across the table. Her lips quirked up in amusement and she turned her attention back to her meal. "Alright, here's what we'll do," she broke the silence after several minutes, "First off, you're grounded. You'll stay with me this weekend and we'll go through your syllabus and any assignments you have and I—and my colleague, Professor Google—will help you figure it out. Second—"
"Wait, wait! What?!" Rachel nearly stabbed herself with her fork as she jerked her head up to stare incredulously at her mother. "Mom, I'm twenty!"
"I don't see what that has to do with anything," Shelby said conversationally. She took a sip of her water to keep from bursting into laughter at the wide range of facial expressions currently flitting across Rachel's face.
"I—I'm an adult! You can't ground me!" Rachel insisted, ignoring the clear whine in her voice.
"I believe I already did," Shelby pointed out. "And, adult or not, twenty isn't so grown-up that you don't still need guidance."
"But. But I've never been grounded before!"
"Yes, and that's your problem," Shelby deadpanned.
"Mom!"
"You'll need to text Kurt after dinner to let him know you won't be home this weekend," Shelby continued on.
"I don't want to tell Kurt anything anymore, not if he's gonna rat me out for something I told him in strict confidence," Rachel said petulantly. She pushed her plate away and crossed her arms.
"He was worried about you and wanted to help," Shelby reasoned.
"Yeah, real help."
"Rachel," Shelby chided mildly. "You stay with me all the time. I thought you liked our weekends?"
"Yes, when you're not trying to ruin my social life!" Rachel argued, springing from her chair in indignation. She flung her arms in the air to further demonstrate her disgust.
Shelby started to laugh in earnest. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did you have big plans this weekend?"
Rachel glared and sputtered, barely managing to keep herself from stomping her foot like she did so often in her youth. She actually didn't have any plans—but she wasn't about to admit that! The knowing smirk that blossomed across Shelby's face told her she had already been found out. "I'm sure I could have…Kurt or Santana…" She trailed off at the accompanying raised eyebrow and let out a forlorn sigh.
"Oh, my poor baby!" Shelby cooed, rising from the table to make her way over to Rachel. She pulled the girl into a tight hug and swayed side to side with her, laughing all the while. "One whole weekend without seeing your friends!" She pulled back and held the younger brunette at arm's length, checking her over. "I think you'll make it," she declared.
Rachel rolled her eyes and untangled herself from the older woman. "Well if I don't, you'll be sorry!"
"Hmm," Shelby hummed, making a show of considering. Then with a shake of her head and a click of her tongue, she said, "I'll risk it."
Rachel groaned and Shelby nudged her playfully in the direction of the table. "C'mon, help me clean up and then we can relax."
And forty minutes later, they were, in fact, relaxing. Well, almost. They were both in comfortable clothes and sitting on the sofa, but that was the extent of it. After the dinner dishes had been cleaned up and put away, the kitchen wiped down, and both had gone upstairs to change into sweats (Shelby having long ago designated her third bedroom as Rachel's, so Rachel always had clothes on hand for any occasion), they returned to the living room and settled into their usual spots on the couch. Rachel had assumed they would get on with their evening and the matter of her class would be forgotten, but that was not to be the case. Shelby started in on her with one hell of a dressing down as soon as they were situated—and despite never having raised her voice even once, by the time she was wrapping up, Rachel was holding back tears as if she had screamed at her the entire time.
"And I'm sure your fathers would just love to know that the money they've worked so hard to save for your education is being wasted because you can't be bothered to show up for a class that you're barely passing because it's boring. They would be so disappointed in you, young lady. Just as I am," Shelby finished on a hard note, knowing it would be painful to hear but necessary to really drive her point home. And she was right—the tears that had been swimming in those dark chocolate pools throughout her lecture burst forth now, cascading down youthful cheeks. She was reminded all-at-once of the thirteen-year-old girl she first met all of those years ago and softened. Rachel had always taken even the mildest of admonishments harder than any of her peers and the years had not changed that about her. Scooting closer to her on the sofa, she opened her arms and wasn't at all surprised when Rachel practically fell into them in her haste to be comforted.
"I'm so sorry! I'm sorry I disappointed you. Please don't tell my dads—I can't handle theirs on top of yours. Please, Momma. I'm sorry," Rachel cried into Shelby's shoulder. She tried to pull back so she wouldn't ruin the woman's shirt, but felt one hand cup the back of her head, keeping her in place. The other began rubbing her back and she was then aware of Shelby's soft shushing and whispered comforts.
Shelby held Rachel until the girl's cries lessened, then sat back so she could meet those brown eyes again. Without a second thought, she swiped the pads of her thumbs under wet eyelashes, brushing away the last of the tears from Rachel's face. Her left hand lingered, cupping a flushed cheek, and she gave a small, kind smile as Rachel leaned into the touch.
"I really am sorry. And I won't ever skip again—I promise!" Rachel offered in earnest. More than anything, she wanted back in Shelby's good graces and to be forgiven. She could count on one hand the number of times either of her fathers or Shelby had used the d-word on her, and she couldn't stand it!
"I know, baby," Shelby soothed, seeing the hurt reflected in glassy brown orbs. She knew exactly what the young woman in front of her—the child she had so long ago come to view as the daughter of her heart—needed to hear now. "You're forgiven, and I won't tell your dads."
Rachel's relief was palpable but short-lived as Shelby continued. "But I'm going to hold you to that promise, Rachel. You will not skip again, this class or any other. Break it and you'll answer to me—"
Rachel gulped and nodded her head vigorously, her heart beating a quick tempo. Shelby had the scariest of her scary teacher looks on her face—a look that would have sent a thirteen-year-old Rachel running for the hills (and her twenty-year-old self wasn't far behind).
"—I have no problem taking off work to escort you to class and sit in with you to make sure you actually go. Don't think I won't."
"No! I swear you won't have to!"
"I'm sure I won't," Shelby agreed, "But I absolutely will if that's what you need from me, because I love you and I know you can do better."
"Okay, I hear you, and I will."
"I know, sweetheart," Shelby reassured, "We're done, I won't say anymore on the matter. We can go over your assignments tomorrow but for now, let's binge-watch some tv."
"Okay," Rachel agreed before leaning forward for one more hug. She felt Shelby squeeze her tight. "I love you too. And thank you, you know…for everything."
Motherly Attentions * Motherly Attentions * Motherly Attentions
Saturday morning found Shelby snuggled in a blanket on the sofa, sipping at her coffee and reading that morning's headlines on her tablet. She had been awake for little over an hour now and, nearing ten, she heard the first stirrings of Rachel upstairs. Knowing the girl would be down shortly, Shelby set her tablet on the armrest and untangled herself from the blanket; it was time to start breakfast.
Shelby knew Rachel was more than capable of making herself something to eat when she came downstairs, but she enjoyed being able to take care of her and do things for her. She would have done the same if Jesse, Morgan, and the boys had been here; that's just what moms did, and Shelby was nothing if not a mom.
It was the same reason she had checked in on Rachel before going to bed last night and wound up tucking the girl in. Rachel had gone up at eleven after a bit of prodding on Shelby's end. Shelby chuckled to herself as she thought back on the girl's protests, full of whines and jaw-cracking yawns that did nothing to help her case.
"What? No! It's still early and I'm not even…tired," Rachel asserted, an ill-timed yawn at the end of it effectively disproving her.
"You can barely keep your eyes open! Go to bed, kid," Shelby laughed.
"It's not even eleven yet!" Rachel argued, checking the time on her phone. Yup, 10:46. Far too early. "I haven't gone to bed this early since high school!"
"Oh no? Well maybe that's one of the reasons for all your skipping—you're too tired to wake up on time for an 8AM class." Shelby raised an eyebrow teasingly, though she expected there was more truth than not in that theory. "Maybe I need to give you a bedtime during the week, hmm?"
Rachel gasped—audibly gasped—and fixed such a glare onto Shelby that, if not for the accompanying pout, would have rivaled any of Shelby's own glares she was known for deploying on unwieldy students. As such, Shelby wasn't impressed.
"That's not—I'm not—You can't!" the girl sputtered, another big yawn betraying her.
"Oh, I think I can. Go on upstairs. It's definitely bedtime," Shelby stood and pulled Rachel up with her, turning her in the direction of the hallway. "Get out your physics notebook and all before you go. I want to look over that and see what I'm working with," she added with a nudge to get stubborn feet moving.
"You're not going to bed? That's not fair!" Rachel said even as she started toward the hall closet where her school bag was still stored.
"Not just yet," Shelby said as she followed behind. She waited patiently as Rachel retrieved the requested items and then handed them over with a jutting lip. Shelby accepted the notebook and folder without comment, instead planting a soft kiss onto Rachel's forehead. "Goodnight, Rach. I love you. If you're still awake when I come upstairs in a little bit, I'll say goodnight again—but I'd like you to try to go to sleep. You need it, baby. You look exhausted."
Shelby sent Rachel off with another kiss, then watched to make sure she went to her room like she was supposed to. She couldn't help mothering the girl, it just came naturally. There was a connection between them that Shelby had felt from the very first moment she met Rachel. That child was her daughter, not by blood but by their very souls.
When Shelby climbed the stairs an hour later, she sighed at seeing a sliver of light coming from Rachel's room. She had hoped the girl would have listened and gone to bed. Oh well—she would now. Once outside the cracked door, Shelby gave a gentle knock before peeking her head inside. She was surprised to see that while the bedside light was on, Rachel was fast asleep, an open book laying face-down atop her stomach, and her EarPods still in her ears.
Shelby smiled at the sight, noting that asleep, Rachel looked much more like the young teenager she had first fallen in love with than the young woman she had grown to be. With practiced fingers, Shelby removed the ear buds from the girl's ears and placed them, along with the book, on Rachel's night stand. A quick search found Rachel's phone tucked under the covers, and that also joined its companions. The mother then straightened a twisted sheet and pulled that and the rest of the blankets up to properly cover the sleeping girl. Finally, a whisper of a kiss was placed atop a forehead, along with the words, "I love you. Sweet dreams," before the light was turned off and Shelby quietly departed.
In the time it took for Shelby to get a batch of banana nut muffins in the oven and then gather ingredients for oatmeal, Rachel had yet to make an appearance. Shelby frowned, wondering what the girl could be doing up there—it wasn't usual for her to take so long coming down on lazy mornings, of which today certainly was.
The mother made quick work of prepping her oatmeal (steel-cut oats, coconut milk, cinnamon, honey, and just a bit of vanilla extract), then wiped her hands on a dish towel. The muffins still had seven minutes to go, and the oatmeal itself wouldn't take more than a few minutes to cook; she had plenty of time to go check on her dawdling daughter.
Having reached the top of the stairs, Shelby thought for a moment that perhaps Rachel had gone back to bed, but drawing closer to the girl's bedroom, she could hear faint singing coming from the end-of-the-hall bathroom. She gave a small knock on the door, calling out Rachel's name as she did so.
The door opened and a beaming Rachel greeted her, her attention immediately turning back to the hot curling iron in her hair. "Morning, Mom!"
"Morning, love. You're getting awfully dolled up for hanging out with me all day, don't you think?" Shelby teased, "You look beautiful, of course, but I figured today would be more of a stay-in-sweats-and-messy-hair-bun kind of day."
"What? Oh, yeah, um—that'll definitely be the case later," Rachel said, releasing the lock of hair from the curling iron and watching it fall to her shoulder in a loose wave. She continued on with another section. "Right now I'm getting ready to go out to brunch and—" She caught Shelby's look in her reflection in the mirror and felt her heart rate pick up; that look was never a good sign. "I—I know we're supposed to look at my schoolwork today and we will—I promise! I won't even be gone long and—well, Kurt invited me last minute and it's not like I can say no, and—"
"You're grounded, Rachel, remember?" Shelby said in an absolutely no-nonsense tone.
"What? No, I—I didn't think you were serious!" Rachel exclaimed, turning her full attention to the older brunette.
"Well I am. You're staying here with me all weekend. Don't give me that look, young lady, I told you this last night—and put down that iron before you burn your hair." Shelby was in full mother-mode, stern-faced and using every bit of her three-inch height advantage to tower over the young woman before her.
Rachel sighed and put the iron down on the counter, turning it off for good measure—she was finished with it anyway. "Momma, please," she began, "I'll only be gone for a little while—two hours tops. Then I promise, I'll come straight home and won't go anywhere else for the rest of the weekend."
"No, Rach. That's not how groundings work. You need to text Kurt and tell him you're not coming after all," Shelby said, gentle but firm.
"I can't tell him that! He'll ask why and I—I can't tell him I'm grounded. They'll make fun of me for weeks!"
"You don't have to tell him you're grounded. Tell him the truth—" Shelby held up a hand to silence the outraged protest Rachel was ready to deliver, "—That I already made us breakfast and you're staying here instead."
"But Momma," Rachel whined and couldn't stop herself from stomping her foot. "Couldn't you—"
"No, I can't. This is a good lesson on prioritizing, Rach—responsibilities come first, then play. Since you've been skipping your classes, now you have to skip your friends," Shelby minced no words. Rachel's shoulders slumped and the mother knew she had gotten her point across. More gently, she added, "Text Kurt and then come downstairs for breakfast. The muffins will be ready in just a few minutes, and I'm making oatmeal too." Then she left the girl with her thoughts and returned to the kitchen.
Her own thoughts centered around the young woman upstairs and the conversation they had just had. Part of her was amazed at how easily Rachel had complied with her 'grounding'. The girl whined and put up a bit of a fight, but she accepted it as fact. In truth, Shelby didn't have a leg to stand on. She couldn't keep Rachel from leaving if she really wanted to, and she wouldn't. What amazed her the most, however, was that Rachel didn't know that. Oh, sure, the girl had argued last night that she was an adult and Shelby couldn't ground her, couldn't send her to bed—and yet, Shelby did both of those things! She continued to do it only minutes ago! She knew, without a glimmer of doubt, that Rachel was upstairs at this very moment, sending Kurt a text letting him know she wasn't coming to brunch. Rachel was doing it because Shelby told her to, because Shelby was 'Momma' and Rachel still allowed her to have that parental authority the girl had so craved from her and then grown to expect after all these years.
Perhaps it was wrong of Shelby to continue to exert that authority; certainly unfair to hold Rachel to a punishment that was one in name only. The girl was twenty, after all—albeit a new twenty, less than two months removed from a teenager—and there was really no reason Rachel couldn't go out to brunch and then come back. They could just as easily go over her schoolwork this afternoon or evening, and there was still all day tomorrow. No, Shelby held firm because she saw an opportunity for a natural teaching moment and took it. She followed her instincts, and, right or wrong, that was the only way she had ever navigated her relationship with Rachel.
The mother heard footsteps on the stairs and jumped into action; she had forgotten all about breakfast lost in her thoughts as she was. The muffins had less than two minutes left, so she hurriedly turned on the burner under her oatmeal to get that going. She swiveled around to the fridge to pull out orange juice and then popped a fresh pod into her Keurig to get Rachel's coffee brewing. The machine gurgled and spluttered before the first drops of coffee hit the bottom of Rachel's favorite mug (a silly quote one that said 'I don't give a sip' that never failed to make the girl smile).
Rachel rounded the corner into the kitchen, a sulky air surrounding her as she skirted by Shelby to wait for the last spurts of coffee to drain into her cup. Despite her sour disposition, Shelby didn't miss the slight twitch at the corners of Rachel's mouth when she set the girl's creamer in front of her. And it definitely didn't go unnoticed that Rachel had removed all of her makeup and changed back into her sweats from the night before.
Shelby smiled to herself, glad that her instincts were still spot-on in regards to her mothering of Rachel. As she had told the girl last night, twenty really wasn't all that grown up. And whether she could admit it to herself or not, Rachel knew it too.