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“No, they never did,” Gregory corroborates her claims. “If they had, you’d have been raised alongside your cousins.” He sounds so logical. “Why would we seek you out now if we didn’t want you back then?”
I guess he’s right. There’s no reason to connect with me now if they truly wanted nothing to do with me. Wait … “Did you just say cousins?”
“That’s right. You have three cousins, two boys and a girl.”
Cecilia pulls out her phone and slides it over to show me a picture. “Sybil is twenty-four and working for the foundation. Chandler is twenty. He has special needs and lives with us. And Hayes is fifteen and in high school.”
It’s her.
Sybil. The same woman who Ethan was engaged to, the one that looks like me, the one that he never got over so he used me instead. They’re on a beach somewhere, dressed for dinner, she’s got a wide grin on her face and her arm slung around a lanky teenager who looks like a young Gregory Laurence. Sybil’s the spitting image of her mother. Between them is another young man with Down’s Syndrome. He also takes after the mother’s side of the family.
I flash my eyes at my aunt and wonder if she’s who I’ll look like when I get older. I can hardly believe it, she’s so sophisticated and glamorous. And then I wonder what my own mother looked like. I don’t have any pictures.
“Do you have a photo of my mom?” My voice shakes as I slide the phone back to Amelia.
She nods and pulls one up. It’s a photograph of a photograph, the two of them are standing in front of a Christmas tree in matching pajamas. Amelia is the taller and older of the two, probably in her late teens. And my mother is standing next to her, a twinkle of mischief in her expression. Just like her sister, just like her niece, and just like me, she’s got wavy red hair, pale skin, and a smattering of freckles across her face. She’s also got my same brown eyes and the little dimple in my chin. There’s no doubt this woman is my mother.
“She looks so happy,” I mutter, wondering where it all went wrong.
“Josie had a compulsive personality,” Amelia sighs. “She was wild and free. Nobody could tell her what to do. But she was also funny and had a heart of gold. I miss her every day.”
Josie? I knew her name was Josephine Davis but that’s all. I try to pair the Josephine in my head with the Josie this woman is describing. Sad thing is, I miss her too and I never even knew her.
“I know we’ve missed out on a lot of time together.” Amelia reaches over and takes the phone, replacing it with her hand before I can pull away. She squeezes it tight and our eyes lock. “But I’d love to get to know you, to bring you into the family.” Her voice hiccups and I feel like I’m floating. Or maybe I’m just light-headed. I may have forgotten to breathe sometime in the last ten minutes. “We’re your blood, Arden. We have a lot of lost time to make up for, but if you’ll let us, we’d like to start right now.”
Gregory smiles at his wife and then at me and I can’t help but wonder if this is really happening. I feel like I’m out of body, watching it happen to someone else. But I’m not. I’m really here. And this is really my life.
These people don’t know me and I don’t know them. What kind of business do they run? I don’t know. Where do they live? I don’t know that either. Are they good people? Again, it’s a mystery. The only thing I can really gauge about them is that they have a lot of money and the one thing I’ve learned about wealthy people this summer is that they can’t be trusted.
I need to remember what that police officer said. I need to stay vigilant. To be careful.
But dessert comes and we get to talking. One hour turns into two, then three. There is so much to catch up on. And with each new topic of conversation, my fears begin to fade into the background. This is all I’ve ever wanted and now it’s right in front of me. It’s complicated. And messy. And confusing.
But it’s mine.
I would be a fool to walk away, so I don’t.
Part Two
Two Years Later (Almost)
“These violent delights have violent ends, And in their triumph die, like fire and powder, Which as they kiss consume.”
William Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet
Thirty-Five
Most people start their vacations with so much excitement bubbling over that they can hardly contain themselves. Not me. I’m starting mine with an all-consuming dread. It has drained every ounce of my energy and the vacation hasn’t even started.
“I swore I would never return to Nantucket,” I groan the second we step onto the tarmac. Sybil just laughs and lifts her hands into the air while spinning as if to proclaim, how could you give up all of this?
“Think of it this way.” She grins openly, her vibrant green eyes sparkling in that way only people with happy childhoods seem to possess. “You’re returning under completely different circumstances. It’s going to be a marvelous adventure this time around.”
Different circumstances is an understatement. And a marvelous adventure? With Sybil in charge of this trip, that’s probably true by most people’s standards. But I’m just worried that her idea of adventure and mine won’t line up. The last thing I want to do is disappoint her.
“At least it’s only for two weeks,” I try to say brightly, but it comes out more like a dim flicker. What I don’t add is that at least I won’t be cleaning up after anybody but myself this time. Not that I’m above that or housekeeping is something I look down upon because I don’t. But after my experience with the Kings, I’m sufficiently traumatized.
Never again.
