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Nick had received a call out at 3am because a copycat killer had begun killing as homage to the man Homicide had arrested the day before, and so Allie was alone in the bed when Mia bounded into the room just before 7 and she startled awake.
This time early by their standards – especially on a Saturday – Allie brushed her hair back from her face as she watched her daughter jumping up and down on their bed. Her mind was elsewhere as she sighed inwardly. She needed to talk to her mother today about Mia and Little Athletics.
The rollercoaster she'd been riding the past fortnight didn't seem to be slowing down any time soon.
Throwing back the sheets, deliberately flinging them over the energetic child, she sat upright. Standing up, she swayed and sat down instantly. The blasted light-headedness was back. Mia, now free of the sheets, hugged Allie from behind, pushing her body forward slightly. As she leaned into her, Allie's stomach revolted. Gripping her daughter's clasped hands, she stood up gingerly, Mia taking a piggy back pose, and released a sigh of relief.
Everything was okay now.
There was no time that morning to talk with her mother and so it wasn't until Mia stood in a gaggle of kids getting ready to run at Little Athletics that Desiree and Allie had a chance to talk. Standing side by side, there was a visible gap between them as Allie folded her arms over her chest and spoke. "Mother, a word?" she asked, her eyes remaining on the field and numerous children before them.
Desiree too didn't look at her daughter, her eyes on where her granddaughter now ran down the field, easily beating the other four children running with her. "She's good."
Allie's reaction was instantaneous and she exploded. "No."
"I'm sorry what?" asked Desiree in a low tone, sparing a glance to see if people were watching them.
"I refuse to let you," replied Allie, lowering her voice. "I want her to enjoy sports, not be forced to grow up and hate it. Like I did. It will be her decision."
"Pfft," scoffed Desiree. "What do children know? Parents need to make that little push. Excellence isn't something that just falls into your lap, you know?"
"Oh yeah," said Allie bitterly. "Trust me, I know."
"Allegra..." replied Desiree in a warning tone.
"Mia is not going into a program for gifted athletes," said Allie in a hard tone, a tone of finality. "It is not going to happen."
The conversation stopped there and an awkward silence fell between them both. When Mia came over after her session was complete, both adults lavished their attention on her. Perhaps spotting the tension, Mia acted even more upbeat and kept the conversation going.
It wasn't until Mia sat down later that afternoon to watch a movie that the argument came to a head once again.
Allie was in the small laundry, sorting through the clothes with a vengeance. Washing machine full, she reached for the washing liquid, swirled it around, shut the lid and pressed the buttons on the display. Reaching down to pick up the wet clothes already in a basket, she swallowed convulsively when the light-headedness returned. Pushing it brutally to the side, she stood up, propped the basket on her hip and saw her mother standing in the doorway.
"You're making a mistake," said Desiree bluntly.
"Oh, it's just another mistake in my big, long list of them isn't it," snapped Allie. "So sorry to be such a disappointment."
"Well," said Desiree, stretching out the word. "Perhaps if you hadn't been so fast and loose and so determined to join the police force, then that awful incident with Mr He Whom Shall Not Be Named may never have happened."
"Are you calling my daughter – your granddaughter – a mistake?" asked Allie, eyes narrowing.
"Of course not," scoffed Desiree. "A child is only a reflection of their parentage." Allie rolled her eyes and snorted, throwing her free hand up into the air. "And so that is what I'm trying to tell you: don't make this mistake. She has talent."
Allie raised a finger, a warning of "don't you dare" right on her lips but suddenly the world didn't seem so flat anymore. Bewildered, she spoke shakily. "I don't feel well."
"Oh, enough with the excuses," said Desiree exasperatedly.
"No, seriously." Dropping the basket, not caring when it tilted and clothes fell to the floor, Allie took the three steps to the laundry sink and was promptly sick.
After vomiting three times more, Allie groaned. Surely her stomach was empty by now. Wondering what it was that she had eaten to induce such a reaction, she realised that someone was keeping her hair back. She had a sudden flashback to a time when she hadn't hated her mother: she felt like a sick kid again.
Turning on the tap, she scooped some water into her mouth and struggled to pay attention as she realised her mother was speaking. "It's okay sweetie," soothed Desiree. "It's to be expected when you're pregnant."
Allie's head flew up from the sink and her eyes almost popped out of her head. "I'm sorry, what?"
Desiree looked honestly confused. "I thought you knew and were just hiding it from me."
"I'm not pregnant," swore Allie as she scrambled backward, her back at the glass sliding door that led outside. Looking at her mother's all-knowing look, her stomach threatened to revolt again.
Next chapter:
Confirmation and another revelation.