Chapter 9 Their Mothers Knew First

Graduation Day – Early Evening

The post-ceremony buzz hadn't worn off.

Mikey walked through the campus lawn, cap in hand, glancing up every now and then as families took photos and students shouted across the quad. Laughter echoed in waves. Balloons bounced in the wind.

But he was looking for one person.

"Was that your boy up there with the honor cords?" a familiar voice asked from behind him.

Mikey turned just in time to see his mom and Crizzle's mom chatting near the flower vendor's booth, each with a bouquet in hand.

"Of course it was," his mom beamed, brushing a speck of dirt from her blouse. "And Crizzle! That speech! I nearly cried."

Mildred grinned. "She always did like the spotlight. Even as a toddler, she'd sing on tables."

They both laughed and moved to a nearby bench, bouquets resting in their laps.

Mikey slowed his steps. He stayed close enough to listen, but out of their sight.

"My husband's always been so wrapped up in work," his mom sighed. "This is the first time he's slowed down in months. I wish he could've been here for the ceremony."

Mildred placed a hand over hers. "Sometimes men don't realize how fast these moments pass until they're already gone."

His mom nodded. "He's flying in for dinner tonight, at least. Always trying to make up for lost time. Henry's like that intense, focused. Big heart underneath, but guarded."

Mildred's hand paused for the briefest moment. Her eyes flickered not in alarm, just recognition. A name. A memory. A silence that passed like a cloud overhead.

But she smiled politely and said nothing.

They sat in a companionable hush, the background noise of the campus swelling around them.

"You know," his mom added, "my son used to draw Crizzle all the time when they were freshmen. He'd deny it, but I'd find those sketchpads."

Mildred chuckled. "Crizzle talks about him like he's her anchor. She used to say he listens like the world might end if he misses a word."

They both laughed softly.

"I always hoped he'd find someone who understood him. Someone who didn't try to change him."

"And I always wanted Crizzle to meet someone who saw all of her and stayed."

A moment passed. A breeze rustled the corner of their bouquet wrappers.

"You two raised some beautiful hearts," Mildred said, touching her arm gently.

"So did you."

Fletcher Hall Rooftop

Mikey told Crizzle about the dinner. She said yes.

But that wasn't what stuck with him.

It was the way the moms had laughed. The way their smiles warmed and then faltered in barely-noticeable ways. The way her mom had gone quiet for just a second when his mom said his dad's name.

He couldn't explain why, but something about it felt like standing on the edge of a cliff.

A soft wind blew over the rooftop. Crizzle lay on the bench, her arm draped over her eyes, sun-kissed legs tucked under her.

"You ever get that feeling," she murmured, "like the ground's about to shift?"

Mikey looked at her.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "I think it already has."

The car slowed at the grand stone gate.

Mildred adjusted the gold clasp on her handbag, her fingers suddenly cold. The driver rolled down the window. Ahead, a man in uniform stepped forward and offered a polite nod.

"Welcome to the Ledger residence," he said.

Her breath hitched.

Ledger.

She didn't speak. Just stared at the gate as it slowly opened.

Ledger.

It couldn't be.

Not him. Not here. Not now.

Still, her hand gripped her bag just a little too tightly.

She said nothing. But her mind wouldn't stop racing.

Just a name, she told herself.

Coincidence.

They arrived at the front of the house. It was warm, tastefully lit, filled with quiet music and laughter. A beautiful home. A safe home.

And yet everything in Mildred's chest was on high alert.

The moment she stepped through the door, she saw him.

Henry.

Older, yes. Changed, yes.

But him.

Her past.

And from the way his body stiffened, he remembered her too.

They locked eyes.

And in that instant, everything she'd buried returned like a crashing tide.

She didn't speak. Neither did he.

Luke and Crizzle, unaware, stepped forward to greet Mikey and Ophelia.

"This is my dad, Henry," Mikey said, gesturing behind him.

Henry said nothing.

Mildred held her breath.

Ophelia, radiant and warm, welcomed them with such grace that it filled the vacuum left by the silence.

Still, the chill in the room was impossible to ignore for those who were paying attention.

Dinner began.

The food was beautiful, the table full of smiles, laughter, and light conversation.

But beneath it, there was tension. A stillness around the edges. Crizzle glanced once at her mother, sensing something, but said nothing.

Mikey was fidgeting. Not out of nerves for the meal but for what he planned to say.

He couldn't keep it in any longer.

Halfway through dessert, he stood up and cleared his throat.

Everyone turned.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't plan this speech. I probably should've. But I'm going to say it anyway."

Crizzle looked at him, startled.

He turned to his parents first, then to Crizzle's.

"I love your daughter," he said, his voice steady despite the tremor in his hands. "I've loved her for a while. And I know we're young and figuring life out, but I want to do this right."

Gasps from both ends of the table. Crizzle's fork clinked against her plate.

Mikey pressed on. "I'd like to ask your permission to court her. Properly. With respect. With everything she deserves."

Crizzle's breath caught.

Mildred's spine went rigid.

Henry's glass froze in his hand.

Silence.

Then, all at once...

"No. You can't!" they shouted together.