Aunt Cora leaned forward like a snake about to strike. “You broke your father’s heart. You killed him!”
“Aunt Cora, he died of heart disease!” She was talking at cross-purposes, trying to reason with dementia and paranoia. Back on track. Back on track. “Aunt Cora, I have bad news about Kellen.”
“Earle died because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut, that’s what! You kept telling him he needed to accept you and your ‘girlfriend.’” Cora flung her arms in the air in what Kellen took to be air quotes every time she said the word girlfriend. If Cora knew what Kellen knew—that her cousin had intended to marry her girlfriend—the gesture probably would have been considerably different.
“I never thought I would hate someone as much as I hate you.” Aunt Cora’s soft voice contrasted with the venom of her words.
“I’m Ceecee. Kellen was your daughter, and I have news about her. Aunt Cora, she’s—”
Aunt Cora leaned her hands on the arms of the chair and pushed herself to her feet. She didn’t yell—Aunt Cora would never raise her voice—but her quiet hatred made Kellen lean away from her. “You are my daughter no longer. Last time I saw you I told you to get out and stay out. Now do it. I don’t need you.”
It was too much. Too much. Kellen had lived through fire and rain, through battle and terror. Now she felt like a child again, with Cora telling her how much of a disappointment she was to her aunt and uncle, and a disgrace to her parents’ memory.
No wonder she had been reluctant to visit Aunt Cora.
Kellen pushed the button to call the nurse.
And ran away.
Kellen knew she looked ridiculous speed-walking out of the memory care center, her arms pumping hard to speed up her cowardly feet. At the front desk, she avoided Nurse Warren’s sympathetic gaze, signed out and headed for the exit. The lock clicked to let her out, the door swung slowly open and desert heat struck her right in the face.
That was real, not artificial like the air-conditioning, not crippled like Aunt Cora’s mind and heart.
As Kellen strode purposely past one of the gardens, a nurse’s aide who was combing her patient’s hair looked at her with the purest sympathy. Kellen almost faltered under the woman’s understanding gaze. Kellen could hear the patient, a woman in her eighties with papery skin and feathery white hair, say to the nurse, “He was a beauty, all right. Do you think he’ll ask me to dance at the next sock hop?”
The aide went back to her task, answering kindly, “I’m sure he will, when we have a sock hop.”
Kellen’s eye filled with tears, although she didn’t know why.
She reached her car, and after fumbling her keys out of the pocket of her jeans, she flung open the door. She didn’t even wait for the burning heat of the car interior to cool before she sat down, buckled up (the metal buckle burned) and started the car. She wanted to drive, right now, away from here, and tried to touch the parts of the steering wheel that had not been directly in the sunlight. She couldn’t quite, so while she waited, she noted that her breathing sounded as erratic as Aunt Cora’s, and she was in a cold sweat, trembling.
If Aunt Cora could speak to someone she believed to be her daughter with such venom, Kellen didn’t want to imagine what Cora would say to her, the battered woman whose husband had murdered the real Kellen.
Her breathing calmed as the air conditioner finally began pumping out cold air. Kellen pulled off her visitor’s pass, flung it in the center console and drove away from the memory care center. She didn’t know where she was headed, but anywhere was better than here, where she had no belief or hope that ties of blood could heal the old rift with her last remaining relative.
CHAPTER THREE
WHEN SHE CROSSED the state line into California, Kellen began to feel less wild-eyed. Even putting an imaginary line between her and Aunt Cora was liberating. She drove straight west and didn’t stop until she reached Highway 1, the narrow road that snaked up the Pacific Coast from the Mexican border north to Canada. She stopped for gas, and a cold iced tea and a bag of corn nuts, and got back in the car and headed north. She drank and ate, rolled down her windows to let the salty odor of the ocean drive memories of her childhood to the back of her mind.
She had nowhere to go, no duties to perform. For the first time in years, she was aimless, and she let herself be aimless. She’d never driven through Big Sur; it was as jaw-droppingly gorgeous as its reputation claimed. She stopped and stayed in Monterey, drove through San Francisco, then up the Northern California coast into wilder territories. Here and there a chunk of ancient rock had flung itself into the waves, and sea lions and gulls basked in the spray of the waves. She overnighted in foggy Eureka, then crossed the border into Oregon. Glorious scenery, but the farther she drove, the more she was aware that, with a quick turn inland, she’d be at the Oregon winery where Max and Rae lived.
She should stop. She knew she should stop. Max had once been her lover. She didn’t remember all the details—that pesky amnesia—but she knew it had been a good relationship. How to explain to him she was having difficulties accepting Rae as her child?
Not that she didn’t believe Rae was her child. Without a doubt, she knew that was the truth.
RAE DI LUCA:
FEMALE, 7 YO, NATIVE AMERICAN/CAUCASIAN/ITALIAN ANCESTRY. BLONDE, CHEERFUL, IRREPRESSIBLE, MISSING FRONT TEETH, LOVING, LOUD, ENTHUSIASTIC. THE SPITTING IMAGE OF KELLEN’S COUSIN AT THAT AGE.
Oh, Rae was so Kellen’s daughter.
But to suddenly be called on to fulfill the twin ties of kinship and duty... Kellen didn’t know how. Kellen, who had always looked down on people who abandoned their duty, was running. Not away, she assured herself, but past.
Which was okay. It had been Max’s idea that she take a little time to wrap her mind around the life-changing circumstances she now confronted. Although probably he never meant her to wander with no end plan.
She hadn’t meant to wander with no end plan, either. What was she doing? Besides driving while steeped in self-loathing?
Yet she still kept going.
She crossed the border into Washington, still traveling that winding highway, and as she neared Yearning Sands Resort, she considered stopping. Her military friends were there. The folks she’d worked with at the resort. But everyone knew her secrets, her situation. They’d enjoy some much-appreciated gossip, but Kellen needed someone not tangled up in this whole mess to talk to, to confide in. Someone who understood duty and service, disappointment and pain. Someone who had been broken and put herself back together.
She kept driving up Washington’s coast, and inevitably she spotted the sign for Virtue Falls.
Welcome to Virtue Falls
Founded 1902
Your Vacation Destination on the Washington Coast
Home of the World-Famous Virtue Falls Canyon
Population 2,487
Of course! Now she knew who she should find. She knew who would understand. She sped up, eager to get into town and—damn it! As she passed a turnout, a car pulled out behind her, and red and blue flashing lights blared in her rearview mirror.
She pulled over onto the shoulder and killed the engine.
Best. Week. Ever.
She watched the long-legged female officer slowly lift herself out of the driver’s seat and Sheriff Kateri Kwinault moved toward Kellen’s car, walking stick in hand.
SHERIFF KATERI KWINAULT:
FEMALE, EARLY 30S, 5'8", 140 LBS, HALF NATIVE AMERICAN ANCESTRY, HALF STUCK-UP WHITE-BREAD BORING PHILADELPHIA ARISTOCRAT ANCESTRY. FORMER COMMANDER OF THE LOCAL COAST GUARD UNIT. BEATEN, BATTERED—SHE WOULD SAY MURDERED—BY THE EARTHQUAKE AND TSUNAMI CAUSED (AHEM) BY THE FROG GOD WHO INHABITS THE OCEAN. RETURNED TO LIFE...BARELY. BECAME THE TOWN’S LIBRARIAN. MIRACULOUS RECOVERY. WAS NOW THE FIRST FEMALE SHERIFF OF VIRTUE FALLS. MIRACULOUS RECOVERY CONTINUED.
Kateri Kwinault had been kic
ked around by life—and she was exactly the person Kellen wanted to see.
Kellen rolled down the window and smiled feebly at Kateri.
Kateri stared in surprise. “Kellen. Kellen Adams. I didn’t expect to see you behind the wheel. Do you know why I pulled you over?”
“I have a pretty good idea. I assume you’ll be wanting my license and registration?”
“Please.” As Kellen dug out the papers (why were they never easy to find when a cop stood outside your car door?), Kateri asked, “Where are you going in such a hurry?”
“I’ve decided to stay in Virtue Falls tonight. To see you.”
Kateri’s eyebrows went up in surprise. They were acquaintances, not friends.
Kellen plowed on. “Want to meet for a drink?”
“Sure. Where are you staying?” Kateri accepted the paperwork and began writing out the ticket.
“I don’t know.” Kellen hadn’t thought about it. In fact, until ten minutes ago, she hadn’t known where she was headed at all. “I thought I’d grab a hotel room.”
Kateri glanced up in reproof. “Honey, it’s Virtue Falls. Spring break. The official beginning of the tourist season. Visitors all over. If you don’t know where you’re staying, you’re not staying anywhere. You know, twenty-two over the speed limit is a hefty fine.”
“You don’t know anywhere I can stay? Oh, no.” Kellen rubbed her neck. She’d been driving too far, been tense too long. She needed to stop, rest, eat, sleep, not necessarily in that order. “How hefty?”
“I might be able to get you into the Good Knight Manor Bed and Breakfast. It recently changed hands. The, um, former owner is serving a stint in prison and the new owner is pretty disorganized. Let me check for you.” Kateri pulled out her phone and sent a text. “Eighty-eight dollars.”
“Eighty-eight for the room?” Great price!
“No, the ticket. The room’s going to be about three hundred.”
“Oh. Okay.” Kellen blinked at her.
“You look tired.” Kateri finished writing out the ticket and handed it over. “Pardon me for asking, but what did you want to talk about?”
Kellen realized she didn’t want to talk about anything, most especially her emotional journey. “Nothing, really.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“I went to visit my aunt. She’s at a memory care facility in Nevada. She thought I was her daughter, and, well, it went downhill from there.”
“Family stuff.” Kateri shuddered. “Let’s see. You drove from Yearning Sands to Nevada?”
“Right.”
“Then you drove up here to see me?”
“Sort of. I was actually driving aimlessly, but I remembered you and I thought you could...we could talk.” In desperation, Kellen told the truth. “I need clarity.”
“You think I have clarity?” Kateri straightened. “Mostly I feel like I’m groping in the dark, so that’s a lovely compliment. Thank you.”
“You know Max, and you know about Rae.”
“Sure. I’ve known Max for years, and I’ve known Rae her whole life. I knew the story about her mother, but I didn’t realize you were her mother until, you know—”
“The big reveal came and the gossip started swirling?” Kellen thumped her forehead on her steering wheel.
“You have a secret love child that you didn’t know about. Does gossip get any juicier?”
Kellen raised up. “From my point of view?”
Kateri patted her shoulder. “As I understand it, you were just flummoxed.”
“Took the feet right out from under me. I haven’t gotten my breath back yet. Like that matters. While I’m trying to get myself together, Rae is growing up and I... What am I supposed to do about it?”
“You can’t do anything about it. Kids grow up whether you’re there or not, whether you’re a good parent or a lousy one.”
A car went roaring past and honked defiantly.
“Shouldn’t you go give him a ticket, too?” Kellen was feeling snappish.
“We’ve got another patrol car around the next curve. He’s toast.” Kateri smiled, her eyes narrowed with pleasure. “Let me ask you a question. You drove 101 all the way up the coast?”
“Yes.”
“Then you passed through Oregon on your way back. Easy enough to cut east to the Di Luca Winery and see Max and Rae.”
“I didn’t stop. I’m a coward.”
“Why?”
“Once I get there, I can’t leave. Rae’s a nice kid. She’s so excited that I’m her mother.” Kellen thrust her fingers through her short hair, lifting it off her aching forehead. “Look at me! I don’t know how to be a mother. I barely remember my own mother. I’ve got crazy Aunt Cora for a parenting example. What am I going to say to that little girl? Sorry I’m not a better mom? Sorry I’m not a mom to you at all? I’m going to disappoint Rae. Better not to be there at all.”
“You’re a mess.” Kateri sounded surprised.
It comforted Kellen to know she usually presented a self-assured facade, but she had to tell the truth. “I’m wandering the countryside. Yes, I’m a mess!”
Kateri got a ping on her phone. She checked it and smiled. “Tell you what. Plug the Good Knight Manor Bed and Breakfast into your GPS. Check in, get a nap and we’ll meet at the Oceanview Café at eight. That’s when I get off. We’ll talk. I’ve got a plan.”
CHAPTER FOUR
KATERI’S PLAN WAS SIMPLE, and she explained it over the best blueberry pie Kellen had ever had in her life. “You’ll help at the food bank.”
Kellen looked up from the perfectly golden crust and the sweet filling flowing like slow lava across the plate. “The food bank? How’s that going to help?”
“There’s one attached to the Catholic church. They always need a hand.”
“I meant—how is that going to help me? Not to be crass—”
“And selfish?”
“And selfish! But I’m the one with my tit in a wringer. Yay for helping the needy, but I’ve got a kid to worry about.”
Kateri cackled. No other word for it, she cackled. “For you...well, it would be good to touch base with the homeless and mentally ill.”
“Find out what real problems look like?” Kellen was feeling snappish. But the pie did help, as well as the cinnamon ice cream. Who would have thought Virtue Falls would have a gourmet diner?
“Kind of. More of a reminder, really. Back in the day, I remember a story that you used to live on the streets.” Kateri sipped her coffee. “That’s how you rescued Max’s niece, right? And met Max. And got involved.” Kateri wasn’t kidding—she did know all the history.
“Yes. That’s how it all started.” Kellen stared into the pie as if it were a Magic 8-Ball, designed to answer her questions about fate and the future. “The streets were a definite low point. Philadelphia is rough.”
“I’ll bet. Anyway, if you can talk to the needy folks of Virtue Falls, maybe talking to Rae won’t seem as frightening.”
That did make sense. But—”I can’t cook. I mean, C rations, but that’s about all.”
“You can chop. Me, I go once a week. As sheriff, it’s a good way to keep in touch with the community and get to know the less fortunate in Virtue Falls.” Kateri sighed. “We’ve got more homeless living on the streets than you would think.”
Kellen considered for a moment. She didn’t really think she would be helpful at a food bank, but right now, what was she good for? “When do I report to work?”
“Tomorrow at nine. Bridget’s the director. I told her you’d be there.”
“Never a doubt on your part?”
“Not one.”
* * *
THE NEW OWNER of the bed-and-breakfast had put Kellen into the attic, a pretty spacious place, and after Kateri’s lecture about the limited number of rooms in town, Kellen didn’t
understand how she scored—until the owner reluctantly admitted someone had been murdered in that attic. The guest who had been scheduled for the room checked in, discovered its history and checked out in a hurry, leaving the space free for Kellen.
Kellen was fine with that. She didn’t believe in ghosts. It was the living who caused all her problems...
Her hand hovered over her phone.
She needed to call Max and Rae, update them, let them know where she was, what she was doing, when she would be...home.
Not home. She had never lived at the winery. She’d never been to the winery. But seven years ago, after Kellen woke from her coma, a year of her life erased from her mind, she had walked out, joined the military and disappeared. Max had taken their baby and come to run the Di Luca family winery in Oregon’s Willamette Valley. It was a place he could start anew, without memories and heartbreak. With his mother’s help, he had raised Rae to be a delightful girl. And the way Kellen was acting, one would think Rae was a monster.
Kellen picked up the phone and punched in the number. She really really really really hoped Max didn’t ans—
“Kellen?” Max’s voice held all the notes: worry, fury, concern, indignation.
He had been her lover, and those tones felt like a warm coat enveloping her. A coat with a tag sticking right at her neckline, and that was the guilt jabbing at her. “Yes, it’s Kellen. I’m fine. Wanted to check in. I’m in Virtue Falls.”
“Virtue Falls?”
Kellen could almost see him straighten up.
MAX DI LUCA:
MALE, 30S, 6'5", 220 LBS, PREDOMINATELY ITALIAN ANCESTRY, FORMER FOOTBALL PLAYER. HANDSOME, TANNED, CURLY BLACK HAIR, BROWN EYES SURROUNDED BY LONG BLACK LASHES THAT WAVED A SULTRY INVITATION EVERY TIME SHE LOOKED HIS WAY...
Erase. Erase. Erase. Erase.
Try again.
MAX DI LUCA:
MALE, HAS HAIR, BODY, FACE, EYES, LASHES. ONCE HIGH UP IN THE DI LUCA FAMILY CORPORATION, STEPPED DOWN TO RAISE HIS DAUGHTER, NOW DIRECTOR OF THE FAMILY’S OREGON WINERY OPERATIONS. KIND, GENEROUS, RESPONSIBLE, LOVING, YET A MASTER OF SEIZING EVERY OPPORTUNITY, STICKLER FOR DUTY.
Families and Other Enemies Page 2
