Eternal (38 page)

What was this place?

“Together?” Liam asked, his hand running across her naked back. “Let's take a shower together.”

“Yeah, together.” She giggled and spread her hand flat on his chest and glanced at it. Natasha was a shade or two lighter than Liam.

“Is your mom or dad black?” Natasha asked.

“My dad was half black.”

“Was? Is he dead?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Did you ever know him?”

“Yeah, he came around some when I was younger. Mom didn't like it.” He got quiet for a minute. “They would always fight. The last time he was there, I was like thirteen. They got into a real big fight. He accused my mom of trying to raise me to be white. Mom told him all she wanted to do was raise me to be a good man, and that had nothing to do with color, and everything to do with character, and that if he was going to see me, he'd have to get himself sober and set an example.”

“What did he say?” Natasha asked.

“He hit her.” Liam's body under Natasha tightened. “It wasn't the first time, but it was the first time I decided to stop him,” he said.

Natasha pushed herself up and looked at Liam's face. “Oh, my God. What happened?”

“I came out with a baseball bat. I hit him in the arm. I don't think I broke it or anything, but I could tell I hurt him. I told him to leave and never come back.”

“Did he ever come back?”

“I don't think so. Mom got married to Hank a few years later. He was a good guy. Black, too. But Hank was twenty years older than my mom. He died of a heart attack less than a year after they got married.” Liam ran his hand over her back. “Didn't you tell me your dad died?”

Natasha paused. “Yeah, my adoptive dad died when I was eleven and when I went to look for my real parents I discovered my real dad was dead, too.”

“How old were you when you found out you were adopted?”

“Almost eighteen.” She inhaled. “Mom said they were going to tell me when I was thirteen but when my adoptive dad died, she just thought it'd make me feel worse.” Natasha grew silent and just breathed for several seconds. “I think part of me always knew. My adoptive dad was half Chinese. Even as child I would stare at his face and wonder why I didn't look more like him.”

“Didn't you say your real mom was dead, too?”

“Yeah,” Natasha said. “Someone killed her. But they never found out who did it.”

He ran his hand alongside her hip. Not sexily, just tenderly, but there was something totally intimate about being naked against another person. “That must have been tough, looking for your real parents and then finding out they were both dead.”

“It was for a while. But I did find an aunt. She was nice. And she had a son about my age.”

They lapsed into silence and then Liam asked, “How did your adoptive dad die?”

“A work accident. One day he was there, and the next he was gone. But Mom remarried a few years ago.”

“Do you get along with your stepdad?”

“Yeah, he's all right. Well, a lot better than all right … compared to your real father. He loves my mom, but I always got the feeling he was just waiting for me leave so he could have her all to himself.”

“Well, that's okay,” Liam said. “Because when we get out of here, we'll get our own place. I've only got two more years before I graduate. We'll find a cheap apartment. Both of us will go to school and work part-time. We'll make it. Since we don't need food that much anymore, we won't have to worry about who's going to cook. We'll share the housework. I'll take out the garbage. And I promise not to leave my dirty underwear around.”

She laughed. “I'm not the best housekeeper.”

“Good, we can live kind of messy, then.”

She lifted her chin and rested it on his chest. “Will you put the toilet seat down?”

“I'll try.” He laughed.

Della felt Natasha's sinuses sting. “I want that,” she said, her voice cracking. “I want that apartment. I want to give you a hard time about leaving your dirty underwear out and leaving the toilet seat up. But I'm so scared it's not going to happen. I'm so afraid this is all we'll have.”

*   *   *

Saturday, at ten fifteen, Della sat in the dining hall watching everyone visit on parents' day. The voices of all the campers and their parents bounced around the huge room and echoed down from the rafters. Della tried not to let her emotions leak out into the crowd—too many faes around—but honestly, she really wanted to go find someplace quiet and cry.

Damian Bond had nothing. They were back to square one.

She'd come home last night and stared at the ceiling for half the night, feeling useless and angry. Feeling alone. She missed Chase. She wanted to help Natasha and Liam. Save them. Give them a chance at life.

She wanted her mom to call her.

No, she wanted her parents to show up. Where were they?

The doors to the dining hall swished open. Della looked up, expecting it to be them. Wrong. It was Derek's mom. Della watched as she smiled at Derek who sat at a table toward the back of the dining hall with Jenny.

Della looked around. Kylie and Lucas and her mom sat chatting about selling her house. Lucas must be getting used to Kylie's mom, because he actually looked comfortable instead of miserable, like he usually did when Kylie forced him to spend time with her mom.

Miranda was playing the part of the good witch, sitting and listening to her mom talk about the upcoming competitions.

Della pulled out her phone to check the time. Her parents were fifteen minutes late. Strange. Her dad didn't do late.

Then again, maybe he wasn't coming today. He'd missed one out of three parent visits lately. But her mom and her sister, Marla, were usually on time, too. The sooner they got here, the quicker they could leave. Or at least it felt that way.

Glancing at her phone, she debated calling her mom then decided against it. Looking back up, she saw Holiday and Burnett studying her with empathy.

Oh, friggin' hell, the last thing she wanted was for everyone to start feeling sorry for her. She was fine. Her family would show up. Her mom never missed parents' day.

All of a sudden, Burnett's phone rang. This far away, Della couldn't hear the person on the line, but Burnett didn't look happy.

Probably FRU business. Was it about Natasha and Liam? She tilted her head to the side and heard him whisper to Holiday, “I need to take this in the office.”

Della watched him walk out. Her need to know bit deep, but she accepted there wasn't a dang thing she could do. If it was news on Natasha and Liam, he would tell her. And if it was about them, it was probably bad news.

Ten minutes later, Della's phone rang. Glancing at the number, Della's breath caught. Her sister, Marla, never called her.

“What's up?” She shot up, and dodged tables in the dining hall to move away to have a private conversation.

“Hey.” Marla's voice sounded small. “Uh, Mom asked me to call you and tell you we weren't going to make it today.”

“Okay,” Della said, fighting the pinch in her heart and walking outside. “Is something wrong?”
Or have you guys just decided to give up on me?

“Hold on a second,” Marla said quietly.

Della continued toward the woods, a spot she knew where several large trees created a little alcove. She heard her sister on the move, too. Then she heard the door close.

“Sorry. I just wanted to go in my bedroom in case Dad was listening.”

Yeah, you wouldn't want Dad to know you were talking to me.
Della's mood stood on the verge of sliding down the slippery slope of self-pity when Marla spoke again. “Something's going on, Della. I don't know what it is, but it's bad. Can you come home?”

Home? Uh, no!
“What? What's happening?”

“That's just it. I don't know. They won't tell me anything.”

“Are they fighting?” Della asked. Her parents weren't perpetual fighters, they actually loved each other, but they'd had a couple of fights. And Della had hated that tension she'd felt during those times.

“Not really. Mom's just so upset. Every time I see her, she's got tears in her eyes. And Dad is acting strange. He didn't come home until after ten last night. And when he did get home, he took Mom in his office and they stayed in there forever talking.” She paused. “You don't think Dad's got a girlfriend, do you?”

Della's mouth dropped open. “No.”

Then it hit her. The reason her parents were upset. “Has dad talked to Aunt Miao?”

“I don't know,” Marla said. “Why?”

“Nothing,” Della said, and closed her eyes. Shit! She'd done it again. Disappointed her dad, caused her mom more heartache.

“I want you to come home. I need you. I don't like this ‘only kid' shit.”

Since when did her sister say
shit
?
“I can't, Marla.” She bit down on her lip, but her throat felt tight hearing her sister's request. While it felt so good knowing she was finally being missed, it felt equally bad knowing she could never go home. Never. Ever.

“Where is Mom?” Della swallowed a lump of pain down her throat.

“She left. Said she was going to the grocery store. Mom never shops on Saturday mornings.”

“I'll call her,” Della said, but her stomach knotted thinking what her mom would say about Della going against her dad's wishes and seeing her aunt.

Hanging up with Marla, Della called her mom.

It rang twice and her mom finally answered. “Hi, Della.”

Her mom's voice didn't sound right.

“Hi, Mom.”

“I told Marla to call you,” her mom said. “Did she forget?”

“No, she called,” Della said and tried to figure out a good reason for her to have visited her aunt.

“Look, Mom, I know you guys are upset—”

“I'm sorry I didn't call you back,” her mom said. “We've been busy.”

Della held tight to her cell. Her mom never beat around the bush. When there was a problem, she put it out there. And fast. So did that mean the problem wasn't that aunt Miao had spoken to her dad about Della's visit?

Relief filled her chest, but the next second, fear chased it away. If whatever was wrong at home wasn't about her, then what was it about?

“Mom, what's wrong?”

“Nothing … Della.” Her mom's voice broke. Was her mom crying?

Hell, yes, she was.

“Mom, what's wrong? Just tell me what it is.”

“I'm sorry, hon. This isn't something you need to worry about, okay? Chances are it's nothing.”

“Are you sick or something, Mom?” Della recalled one of her friends' mom finding out she had breast cancer. “Did you find a lump or something in your breasts?”

“No.”

“Dad? Is he—?” Her heart gripped.

“Nobody's sick. And you're just going to have to accept that I can't talk about things now.”

“Mom, that scares me. If something is wrong, I need to know.”

“Not now, sweetheart. You just concentrate on you.” She paused. “I've got to go now. I love you,” she said.

Tears filled Della's eyes. “I love you, too.”

Then her mom hung up. Della sat down beside the tree and gave in. She cried about whatever was wrong at home. She cried because it felt like forever since her mom had told her she loved her. She cried because she didn't think she could save Natasha and Liam—and they would never get that apartment. All that love they shared would die with them.

She cried because she missed Chase.

After a good minute of letting herself go, she wiped her cheeks. She called Marla back and told her Mom wouldn't talk, but she made Marla promise she'd call her if she figured out what was wrong.

“Hang in there, okay?” she told her sister.

“I will,” Marla said and she sounded alone.

“Why don't you go see your friend Mickie?” Della asked. “Get out of the house and enjoy yourself.”

“I am,” Marla said. “Her mom is picking me up in an hour.”

“Good. Don't do anything I wouldn't do. No smoking, alcohol, or sex. French kissing's okay, even if it is gross.”

Marla laughed and then said, “I miss you.”

The swell of emotion hit tight. “I miss you, too.”

Della hung up, the ache lingering in the pit of her stomach, and stared at the phone. The temptation hit.
Don't do it. Don't do it.

She did it.

She hit dial.

“What's wrong?” Chase answered on the first ring.

“Why would you ask that?” she asked, holding her voice steady, remembering her mom's voice breaking up.

“Because you should be visiting with your family right now.”

“Yeah, well … something came up.”

“They didn't show?” he asked, sounding offended.

“No, but it doesn't matter.”

“Sorry,” he said and then, “Shit, did your aunt tell your dad you went to see her?”

“No. I thought it was that, but … I spoke with my mom and it seems like it's something else. I'm sure it's no big deal.”

So why did it feel like it was?

“I was just thinking about Natasha and Liam,” she said.

“Me, too. I've been searching the Internet for tattoos like they had. If I find the artist who did it, I thought it might lead us to them.”

“That's a good idea,” Della said. “Why didn't I think of that? I should get Derek to do it, too. He's good working with the Internet.”

“Maybe he'll have better luck than I did,” Chase said, sounding disappointed.

Della leaned back against the tree. “You know the first time I saw the tattoo, it reminded me of … something. Like I've seen the emblem before.”

“But you don't remember where?”