Fortune. Erica Spindler

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СКАЧАТЬ and a glass of water. Skye took them, then handed the half-full glass back to her mother. Past experience had taught them both that if they caught the headache early enough, Skye could beat it. If they didn’t, the pain could become nearly unbearable.

      “Thanks, Mom.”

      Claire bent and kissed the top of Skye’s head. “Why don’t you lie down for a minute. I’ll finish making lunch, then come see how you’re feeling.”

      Skye caught her mother’s hand. “Will you stay a minute? And rub my head?”

      “Sure, sweetie. Scoot over.”

      Skye did and her mother sat on the edge of the bed and began softly stroking her forehead. With each pass of her mother’s hand, Skye’s pain lessened. Each time she stopped, it returned, full force. And with it the questions that pounded at her.

      “Feel a little better?” her mother asked.

      “A little. Mom?”

      “Yes, sweetheart?”

      “My dad didn’t want me, did he?”

      Her mother caught her breath. “What kind of question is that? Of course he wanted you.”

      “You don’t have to lie to me. I know how it works. You probably didn’t even know who my father was.”

      “That’s not true! Of course I know who—”

      “Then why aren’t there any pictures of him!” Skye caught her mother’s hand, desperate, the pain blinding. “And why won’t you talk about him?” She tightened her fingers. “Please. Just tell me, Mom. I won’t cry. I’m not a baby anymore.”

      For long moments her mother said nothing, just gazed at the floor, her expression troubled. Finally, she met Skye’s eyes once more. “He wanted you, Skye. I promise you that. But we can talk about this later. You need to rest—”

      “No! Mom, I want to talk about it now. Please.” Skye squeezed her mother’s fingers. “If he really wanted me, where is he? What happened to him?”

      “What happened to him?” her mother repeated, her voice sounding high and tight. She freed her hand, stood and took a step backward, toward the door. “I told you before. He’s dead.”

      “Yes, but…how? What happened?”

      “It was an accident.” Her mother reached the door. “I’ve told you that before, too.”

      “What kind of accident was it? A car crash? A fire?” Skye lifted herself to an elbow and gazed pleadingly at her mother. She saw her mother’s hesitation, her wavering, and pressed her further. “Where did it happen? Was I there? Were you?”

      For a moment her mother said nothing, then she cleared her throat. “It was very ugly. I don’t want to talk about it. Maybe someday.”

      Her mother was lying to her, hiding something. But what? And why? A lump in her throat, Skye shifted her gaze to her sketch tablet and the curvy “M.”

       Why wouldn’t her mother trust her with the truth? What could be so ugly that her mother…

      “Did someone kill him?” she asked, eyes widening. “Is that it? Was he…murdered?”

      Her mother made a sound, squeaky and high. She shifted her gaze, as with guilt, and Skye’s heart began to pound. “Was it the mob? Is the mob after us, too?”

      “Don’t be silly.” Claire smiled stiffly. “It was an accident and nothing—”

      “That’s why we’re always moving, isn’t it?” Excited, Skye sat up and pushed her hair away from her face. “Just like in the movies, we’re on the run from the mob!”

      “That’s enough, Skye!” her mother’s voice rose. “I don’t want to hear any more of this ridiculous talk. Do you hear me? No more.”

      Tears flooded Skye’s eyes, and she flopped back to the mattress, rolling onto her side and turning her back to her mother. “Forget it. Just go away. After all, I need my rest.”

      Claire sighed. “Your father wasn’t a nice man, honey. And his family…” Her words faltered, and she drew what sounded to Skye like a careful breath. “I’ll only say that I’m glad they’re out of our lives forever. That’s why I don’t like to talk about them.”

      Heart pounding, Skye turned and looked at her mother. “What do you mean, he wasn’t…nice? Did he, you know…did he hit you?”

      Her mother hesitated, then nodded. “Yes.”

      “Oh.” Skye caught her bottom lip between her teeth, the pressure in her head almost unbearable. “Did he…hit me?”

      “No. But—” She bent and cupped Skye’s face in her palms. “When we were with him, I was afraid for you.”

      Skye swallowed hard. “Is that why you won’t even tell me where I was born?”

      “Yes. I—” Claire sighed again and bent her forehead to Skye’s. “Trust me, sweetheart. When you’re older, I’ll tell you more.”

      “Promise?”

      She nodded, then smiled. “Our soup’s probably boiled over by now. I’d better check it.”

      Skye caught her mother’s hand. “Mom? Do you ever wonder what it’d be like to have…you know, a real family? To live in one place and not…”

      Her words trailed off at the sadness in her mother’s eyes.

      “Yes,” Claire answered softly. “Sometimes I wish that with all my heart. This isn’t the life I wanted for you. It’s not the way I wanted you to grow up.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t have—”

      Her throat closed over the words, and she cleared it. “I didn’t have that growing up and I always thought how nice it would be.”

      Her mother had been an orphan. Skye couldn’t imagine that. She couldn’t imagine not having her mother. She would die without her. Feeling guilty for having brought up the subject, she hugged her. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry I bugged you about…you know.”

      “Yes, I know.” Her mother stroked her hair again. “Sometimes the truth hurts, baby. Sometimes it’s better not to know the truth.”

      Skye tipped her head back and met her mother’s eyes. Something in them, something dark and terrifying, made her tremble. “What is it, Mom? What do you see?”

      Her mother pressed her lips to her forehead. “It’s only the past. And the past can’t hurt us as long as we make it stay there. Will you help me?”

      Skye nodded, suddenly afraid. Of being alone. Of the past and the future. She clutched her mother. “Don’t ever leave me. I don’t know what I’d—”

      “Shh.” Claire kissed her again. “Silly baby. I would never leave you. You’re my whole life. СКАЧАТЬ