Luke was sick in the heart when he got back to the Inn. He was too restless to sleep or eat, and he lay in the dark staring at the ceiling with its odd square patterns with blank eyes. The Aurora Borealis danced over the bedspread through the washed out ivory curtains. They would have been beautiful if he wasn't so tired, and feeling so...abandoned. He wished the room had darker curtains.
He'd called his mother when he got back, quickly relayed what had happened in short clipped sentences, still brimming with heated anger.
He'd expected her to tell him to come home and forget it, because he knew he wasn't going to get anywhere. She'd told him that there wasn't a home to come to, and she was busy travelling all over the place trying to find one with Mr. Jefferson. He'd never met Mr. Jeffe
