When Aunt India had ushered them home, Ella had clung to his arm so tightly that he could feel it going numb, but Wade didn't have the heart to pry her fingers loose. It was a short walk from their Aunt Melly's to home, but the thick, swirling fog had made it difficult for them to see beyond an arm's reach and Ella had stumbled several times, finally falling flat on her face one block from the mansion, skinning her hands and knees and tearing her dress.
They found Mother sitting at the foot of the stairs in an inelegant balloon of skirts; her knees were drawn up, her small feet peeked out from under the dress, and she was twisting something absentmindedly in her hands. She was staring off into space. She didn't appear to notice them, but when the front door shut with a resounding thud, her head jerked up; at the sight of them, she blinked several times as if she wasn't sure what she was seeing and her normally clear green eyes were unfocused, dazed even, like those of a child who had just been woken from a dream. The rosy flush had completely faded from her cheeks, leaving her face as pale and bloodless as Bonnie's had been. She rose as if with great difficulty, one hand braced on her knee, and when she was finally upright, she had wobbled slightly and gripped the newel post for support, but when she began to walk towards them, her steps were again steady and sure and she strode towards them with the regal air of a fallen queen.
As she came closer, Wade could see that it was a handkerchief she had been twisting; it was now balled up in one fist and she was gripping it so tightly that her knuckles were stark white, the bones jutting from the translucent skin. Her eyes were also so filled to the brim with tears Wade thought it was a wonder that she could see anything, let alone them; he could see fresh ones glistening like streams of silver on her high cheekbones as well as a gray streak on the side of her mouth. Wade had seen Ella cry on more than one occasion and remembered how, in such instances, her hair would hang in a straggly mess, how her mouth would tremble when she tried to speak, how thick green bogies would spew from her nose, and how her freckled face would become pink and blotchy, the eyes red-rimmed and puffy, but Mother somehow made a pretty picture; she looked like one of those heroines in the fairy tales Aunt Melly had once read to them.
She knelt down to Ella's eye level and briefly stroked her hair in a distracted, maternal air before leaning in; she kissed her cheek so gently, so tenderly, that Ella had looked up with her mouth open.
"Mummy?"
But she had already turned to Wade, cradling the back of his head and bending her own to kiss his curls; she then tilted his head back to stare into his eyes with an unfamiliar searching, wistful look and when she leaned in, her soft cheek brushed against his own and he could feel her tears as well, as cool as a lover's kiss. Wade was suddenly aware of how silent the house had become and there was an odd, dream-like quality in his mother's languid motions; a hundred questions bubbled to his lips, but before a single one could escape him, his mother was already on her feet and had quietly ascended the stairs without a word. When her footfalls finally died away, Wade realized that he had forgotten to ask about dinner.