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DYNASTY
The wind is knocked out of me when my gaze collides with Camille’s.
My mother.
There’s no doubt. Like River said, seeing is believing, and I’m a carbon copy of her. She sees it too, as her eyes glide over what feels like every inch of me.
Her hand covers her mouth, and a tear glides down her cheek. “It’s uncanny,” she whispers. “River told me he was certain, but this is such a surprise. I didn’t allow myself to hope—” The word gets caught in her throat, and she shakes it off. “Never mind that. You’re here now. Please tell me all about yourself,” she says to quickly change the subject, wiping away the moisture from under her eyes and straightening her hair off of her shoulder.
I remain speechless, dumbstruck by the revelation.
Same blond hair, similar build—athletically slim, with curvy hips and breasts on the larger side, although she is at least an inch shorter than I am.
“Victoria, say something... please,” she weeps.
What does one say when they meet the mother they never knew they had?
“You know my name,” I say lamely, at a loss for intelligent words.
I don’t know what this woman knows about me. She’s a stranger, and that truth stabs at my heart, because deep down I know it’s not the way she wanted it.
It’s in the way her breath catches as she looks at me. I see it in her glassy blue eyes, filled with tears. She was robbed of a relationship with me just as much as I was.
“Of course I know your name. It was my one request to God,” she says, barely holding back a sob.
He dainty hand falls over her heart as her other raises back to cover her mouth. A river of moisture runs down the sides of her face. She’s trying to keep her composure.
She shakes it off, sniffling and straightening her shoulders, perfecting what I’m sure is the control she mastered over the years having to rule a kingdom.
“You should know, my mother... your grandmother’s name was Victoria.”
“I have a grandmother?”
She smiles sadly. “Had. She died many, many centuries ago. She was human.”
I nod, because I was told as much.
“She lived in a small village of what’s now called Ireland. Our family’s descendants over the years migrated to the Americas and settled in Louisiana.”
I perk up to this news. “That’s where I’ve been living on Earth.”
“Your soul was called there. Blood ties are strong, Victoria. Ours are the strongest of all, due to our angelic lineage. The English family remains a strong line there today.”
“English?”
“Our surname. It was changed over the centuries to English. Why do you look so pale, Victoria?”
Camille’s concern is warranted. I feel faint. After I take several deep breaths, my heart settles and the fog begins to lift.
“When I fell, I chose English as my own name at random.”
She tsks. “Nothing random about it. As I said, it was your soul doing the work.” She smiles. “Victoria English. It suits you.”
My lopsided smile is born from happiness at meeting the approval of my mother.
“You have his eyes.” She smiles, and more tears trickle down her delicate face, but she doesn’t swipe them away. “His name is Michael.”
And there’s the confirmation that Michael is indeed my father. It hurts knowing that all along, we were in the same space, working alongside each other at times, and never knew. It’s especially heartbreaking because of how things have been between us since my fall. Oddly enough, I always kind of looked at him as a father figure before he turned his back on me. Some cuts run deeper than others, and Michael’s might’ve been the deepest of all.
