Tethered (A BirthRight Novel) (16 page)

She pivots, hesitation etched through her deep lines of worry, then walks towards the front door. But I know it’s the
last
thing she wants to do.

The doorbell rings again, followed by persistent pounding.

Aunt Morgan looks back and winces, but moves forward.

As she reaches the door, her hand lifts to the knob—and she freezes.

She turns back to look at Gram—me—then at the boys. After another deep breath, she pulls the door open.

Michael stands before her, fury oozing from his glistening pores. It takes him a second to speak, his eyes burning a hole through Aunt Morgan’s face.

Everyone but Ash and Aidan move into the living room.

“Is it true?” he demands, his strained voice dripping with disbelief. “Please tell me it’s not true?”

Her head droops, but I can tell she’s holding back the tears. Aunt Morgan always hides her face when she’s about to cry.

She lifts her head back up. “Is
what
true?”

He takes a step closer, but his hateful glare never waivers. “I just got off the phone with my distraught mother, rambling on about the two boys she’d seen that were a carbon copy of
me
. Me! She saw them with
you
, and then realized she’s had grandchildren for the last twenty-one years…and that I’m a father…but no one ever felt the need to tell us.” He turns to us, but then looks back to Aunt Morgan. “Please tell me this isn’t true? I told her she was wrong, that you could
never
do such a thing.

“She’s wrong, right?” The pleading in his voice tugs at my heart.

His expression softens, staring at the tears billowing in her eyes.

“Yes, Michael. It’s true. I’m so sorry, but it’s true.” Aunt Morgan’s bottom lip quivers the second she pushes the words from her mouth.

His distinct, Italian jaw drops, the color draining from his cheeks. “What? I...I don’t understand. How could your family tell me you had a miscarriage? H...how could you keep this from me for
twenty-one years
?” His head sways, trying to control the anger in his voice.

Ash and Aidan abandon the seats keeping them out of Michael’s line of sight. They move closer to where their parents now stand. Together.

“Don’t speak to her that way! After everything you’ve done to her, don’t you
dare
blame her because you didn’t know the truth,” Ash exclaims, defending his mother in a frigid, protective tone. I’m sure it’s making Michael’s insides shake.

“She gave you
exactly
what you wanted by not telling you. You
knew
she was pregnant, but you left her anyway. If anyone should feel bad...it should be
you
.” Aidan points to his father with contempt.

In awe of his mirror image duplicated before him, Michael stands like an ice sculpture, seeing his twin boys for the very first time.

Moments pass as he stares at them. Morgan steps closer, placing her hand on his arm. “Michael, are you okay?”

She waits, but he doesn’t answer. She tries again. “Michael? I never meant to hurt you. I thought this was what you wanted.” Her voice cracks.

“What did you say?” He turns to her, surprise pinning his eyes wide open. “You thought it’s what I
wanted
? What in the hell would have ever made you think I would want
nothing
to do with my own flesh and blood? For god’s sake, Mo, we had their names picked out the very night we found out you were having twins.” Visibly broken, the dark circles and blood-shot eyes overpower Michael’s face.

Aunt Morgan releases his arm, moving so she can stand between her sons. She takes a deep breath, turning to face their father again.

As if being wiped by an invisible cloth, sadness is replaced by one of antipathy as a vivid sneer creeps up her face. “Your letter made it
quite
clear how you felt about us. You said you wanted nothing to do with me, or the Satan spawn I was carrying...and I believed you. Given the fact that you never, not even once, tried to contact me, only proves you meant every word.”

Michael squints, her words registering. “
My
letter?”

Aunt Morgan’s jaw clenches, a vein pulsating on the side of her lithe neck. “Yes,
your
letter. You know…the one your father delivered the day after you told him I’m a
Witch
.”

He shakes his head, a few stray hairs dangle onto his forehead. Staring off somewhere, he seems confused—like he’s trying to recall a memory but isn’t able to. Then, as if he’s just been kicked in the stomach, Michael’s face turns ghostly.

He looks toward Aunt Morgan and the boys one more time, his mouth falling open. “I…I have to go....”

Before any of us know what’s happening, Michael’s turning to run out the front door where he almost knocks over the returning Hunter.

Unaware of what he’s just walked in on, Hunter scans the room chock-full of surprised faces. “Ah…is everything okay?”

I grab the cake from his hands, setting it down on the end table behind us. “That was Ash and Aidan’s father who nearly plowed you over. Sorry about that.”

Confusion stretches across his wrinkled brow.

“He never knew they existed,” I add in a polite tone.

The second it registers, he lays his soft hand upon my cheek. “This is
clearly
a family matter that doesn’t need an outside audience. I’ll leave so you and your family can be alone, okay?”

“That’s really sweet of you. Thanks so much for getting the cake. We’ll save it for tomorrow, okay?”

“No, don’t be silly. Enjoy it tonight. Perhaps something sweet will help ease the bitterness of the night.”

“Okay, just let me get you some money first.” I turn, looking to see where I left my bag.

Hunter grabs my forearm. “The cake is
my
treat. You guys are always feeding me, so it’s the least I can do.”

“That’s really not necessary, but thank you.” I smile apologetically. “I’m sorry I made you run out, only to have you leave once you got back. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“It’s not a big deal. Honest. You just focus on your family.” He leans down to place a kiss on my cheek. “They come first.”

“Thank you, Hunter. I really appreciate everything.”

“It’s my pleasure, Miss Chloe.” He turns towards everyone in the room. “You need some time alone, so I’ll get out of your hair. It was nice meeting you guys. We’ll talk more tomorrow.” He turns to Gram. “And thanks for another fabulous meal.”

“You’re quite welcome, dear.” She smiles.

Everyone wishes him a good night as he disappears through the doorway.

Once I hear his car door shut, I grab the cake and we head back to the kitchen.

“So
that’s
our father?” Aidan asks. “He’s not exactly what I was expecting.”

“Well, I’d just like to know why he was so upset. Sure, I suppose it’s natural to be mad over something like this, but
he’s
the one who shut you out of his life. I just don’t get it.” Ash shakes his head, stepping out of his flip-flops as he slides onto a barstool.

Aunt Morgan drops down next to him.

“What’s on your mind, Aunt Morgan? What are you thinking?” I sit on the other side of her, wrapping my arm around her slumped-over shoulders.

She shrugs. “I’m not sure. His reaction just doesn’t make much sense. All these years I’ve been so angry, but in a matter of minutes, he made me feel sorry for
him
. How does that even happen?” She leans her head against my shoulder.

“If it means anything, he definitely wasn’t faking it. In fact, I’d say he was holding back. That man’s heart is
broken
. I’ve never felt so much pain on one person.” Dru tries to reassure her.

We go over-and-over the events, discussing how his actions are so unexpected. And we come to one conclusion: it must have been regret. I mean, what else could it be? Maybe in his mind he believes he would have taken her back if he knew the truth back then. But even if he
does
regret his choices, it’s too little, too late.

As we discuss how tired we’re getting, I remember the cake Hunter so willingly picked up. I slide it in front of me, take the lid off, and notice he’d even taken the time to have “
Congratulations Ash & Aidan
” written on it. Could he be any sweeter?

“I almost forgot.” I tilt the cake towards Ash and Aidan. “Congratulations, boys. You can thank Hunter tomorrow.” Then I wink.

Everyone stands up to look inside the box at the blue and lavender floral cake. “That looks
delicious
. Please tell me we’re eating it
now?
” Dhelia puts her hands on her hips.

In a matter of seconds, Gram has a knife, forks, and paper plates in hand. “Boys, who wants to cut?” She holds out the knife towards the faux guests of honor.

We each have a slice before heading off to bed, not that it helps ease the terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. I might not have
seen
it, but something
big
is about to happen. You don’t need to have visions to see that one coming.

*  *  *

As we chow down on Denver omelets, we decide to stick around the house today to take care of everything we’ve been neglecting: cleaning, laundry, grocery shopping, and other errands. We’ll spend time with Pap later today,
after
Gram feels better about the state of the house and refrigerator.

She also wants to stop by her store to check on things. She has people working for her she trusts implicitly, but she never stays away this long without popping in for a visit. I’m sure Gram’s a great boss—especially on holidays. She’s very generous with family—
and
with her employees.

Once we figure out our plan for the day, we waste no time getting right to it. I help Gram clean the house, Dhelia goes grocery shopping, and the boys do the laundry before going outside to help Dru and Aunt Morgan take care of the shaggy yard.

While I start in the living room, Gram goes on kitchen duty. The house is by no means messy, not even with seven people living here for the time being. It just needs some routine maintenance, like dusting and vacuuming.

As I work my way through the living room with a bottle of pledge and a dust rag, I come across the Wiccan statues and Celtic figurines taking up residence on the shelves. Like the miniature, gold Altar bell; the pewter Moon Goddess statue; the bejeweled statues of Isis and Pagan fairies; the stone Hecate figurines; and the pentacles of every color. There are so many memories in this room—and most of them predate even Gram and Pap.

Over the years, they’ve restored the entire house and added all sorts of cool colors, like the deep shade of burnt-red the fifty-two-inch flat screen hangs on. From the inside, it doesn’t even look Victorian anymore. The house is full of detailed trim with a natural oak finish, matching the hardwood floors to perfection. It gives the room such a homey feel.

The living room alone is big enough to fit five or six full-size cars in it, but with floor to ceiling bookshelves on two walls, three over-sized puffy couches and two matching chairs, it’s still somehow cozy.

I drag the dust rag across the wrought-iron and slate coffee table and can’t help but smile. I love this room. It was also my mother’s favorite room because of the color, so Gram will never change it—for that reason alone.

I grab the spindly feather duster, making my way to the wall of family portraits. I’d almost forgotten just how many photographs of my mother there are. It looks like there were even quite a few new ones that went up after she died.

I stop when I come to a picture taken during our last Christmas together. My eyes fill to see her the way I try to remember her. When she was happy. Pain courses through my chest, so I return the photo to its home on the wall.

As I move further down the wall of memories, the vision of Michael and Morgan from the other day hits me. The one with no sound.

Only this time, I know it’s happening
today
.

I throw the duster on the couch and head outside to find Aunt Morgan.

“Aunt Morgan!” I yell, running through the grass Dru’s mowing. “It’s today! Michael will be here this afternoon for the conversation that has you
all
in tears.” I wipe my hand across the beads of sweat forming across my nose.

She shrugs her shoulders and goes back to weeding, without saying a word.

I don’t know how she does it. She’s always been a rock. And she says there’s something about
this
house that’s always given her the strength to face anything. I never noticed as a child—but being here now—I get it.

Having kept my promise, I head back towards the house.

It isn’t taking long to clean, but we still have the den, the dining room, Pap’s study, and four bathrooms. There are ten bedrooms in all, but we’re responsible for taking care of our own rooms. For the ones not in use, she doesn’t care about cleaning them. Thank, god.

If I have to guess, it will take Dru and Aunt Morgan longer than anyone to finish. There are five acres of grass to mow, not to mention flowerbeds and a garden to weed and water. With the flowers and shrubs of every color, this is undeniably a gorgeous lawn. The upkeep, however, is pretty much a full-time job for my pap. But he loves every minute of it. He even tends to Gram’s herb garden when she can’t get around to it.