I’ve been going through my work-in-progress, and I’ve found a few potholes. I need a few characters to interact. I think. It’s hard to tell. Most of today’s writing time was spent sorting out the timeline. I realized that part of the story was taking place in the beginning of a new year instead of in the end. I jotted down a moment between two characters that I think need more together. Anyway, it’s been a long day. At least, I wrote something.
Cora, her knees in the seat of the chair, leaned over the back of the chair so that her face was inches from Deva’s. “You think I can’t understand, but no one understands better than I do.”
Deva shook her head. “You don’t know me.”
Cora cocked her head and smiled. “And that is a shame, my lovely girl. But that doesn’t mean I can’t see the truth.”
“Truth? I hardly know what that is anymore. I mean, I didn’t know the truth about you.” Deva forced herself to stay where she stood. She wouldn’t back away from Cora.
“Well, that’s okay. I didn’t want you to.” Cora pushed away from the chair and jumped to her feet. “And you didn’t want to either. That’s the thing about the truth, dear Dev. Unlike men and a host of other nightmares, it can’t force itself on you if you’re not truly willing.”
Deva made a face of disgust. “Why do you think you know so much?”
“Why do you think I don’t?” Cora made the most of every step she made. She sauntered around the chair to where Deva stood, stiff and anxious. “You’re like a speck of an insect in a web.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
Cora shook her head, though her smile remained. “I like that.” She sighed and unexpectedly turned away. “Do you know what your mother is doing?”
“What? What are you talking about?”
“What about your grandmother?” Cora strolled over the chair and leaned her back against its own high back. “Has she spoken to you lately?”
“How do you know about that?”
“Lucky guess.” She laughed. “Now, I’ll tell you what you want to know, but you have to do something for me.”
Deva doubted owing Cora any kind of favor ever ended well, but she didn’t know anyone else who could answer her questions. “What?”
“Your Mr. Sebastian won’t see me. I know, I can hardly believe it myself, but you, sweet girl, matter to him. He’ll come see me if you ask him to.”
“Becker?” This made no sense to Deva. “Why do you care? You don’t need him. I didn’t think you could…” She thought the better of what she was going to say.
“What? Love someone?” Cora let her head drop back, arching her back over the back of the chair, her hair pointed down into the chair’s. “Maybe I can’t.”
Deva wished she knew what to do. What damage could it do for Becker to talk to Cora?
Cora whipped herself upright again and in one graceful step was away from the chair again. “But I can try.” She glided over to Deva. She put a hand to Deva’s cheek. “I promise not to hurt him.”