Tethered Souls

by Beth Flynn

  Pumpkin Rest, South Carolina 2007

  I was pleasantly surprised at how good the meal was that Christian had prepared. I told myself I didn't want to enjoy it, but my stomach and taste buds told me differently. He obviously knew his way around a kitchen. I was torn between using my head to determine the best way to give him the slip, or sticking around to see where this unusual reunion might lead. He seemed calmer, nicer than the man who'd handcuffed me to a beam and disabled my car.

  Returning to an earlier comment he’d made, I stared down at my plate and muttered, "You didn't find a hide-a-key on my car because I'm not stupid." I immediately felt his eyes on me and looked up. He was smiling. My heart did a flip-flop in my chest.

  "Good. It's the first thing a car thief would look for," he told me, his eyes steady. "Do you know that's how my mother got away from my father?" he asked.

  Even though I hadn't known any details of his mother's kidnapping, I did know the circumstances had been different than those of my parents. I shook my head.

  I listened, fascinated, as Christian went on to share the details of his parents’ story.

  "When did they know it was love?" I later asked as I stood at the sink and rinsed out my glass. My voice conveyed a dreamy quality that I couldn't disguise.

  "I don't know," came his bland reply from behind me. "I guess you'll have to ask them one day."

  The reality of his deception came crashing down. I spun around to face him. "I could've asked them if this ruse you planned had been the real deal!" I snapped. "Tell me again why you are under the misconception that I lied to you?" I demanded.

  With his back to me, I watched him stiffen and shrug his shoulders while bending low to bag up the garbage. "Forget it. It was stupid. A misunderstanding."

  "Stupid? Tell me how a stupid misunderstanding led to this?" I asked.

  He stood up straight and turned around to face me. Dropping the garbage bag on the floor, he said, "It's simple. You lied. You told me that night in my room that you'd be in touch. You never called or bothered in any way. I thought there was something between us that night. I was obviously wrong. You left and never looked back. I've obviously made a big deal out of nothing."

  "I didn't lie to you that night. And before we talk about that night, let's go back even further," I threw at him.

  His only response was a raised eyebrow.

  "Do you remember driving me home after I babysat for your sister?" I asked.

  "Yeah, when you got your period in my truck," came his impassive reply.

  "Thanks for bringing that up," I scoffed. "Do you know how many times I texted you after that? How many times I called your mother to see if she needed me to babysit for Daisy again?"

  "I don't know if you're telling the truth about the texts, but it doesn't matter anyway. I lost my phone after I drove you home. My mom got me a new one with a new number."

  I watched his expression start to change as if something jogged his memory.

  "But that was almost a whole year before that going-away dinner, and has nothing to do with the promise you made that night in my room," he shot back.

  "And you're accusing me of breaking that promise?" I asked, incredulously. Without giving him a chance to answer, I walked toward him and jabbed him in the chest. "I sent you letters, Christian. I went to extremes to make sure there was no possible way your parents would figure out they were from me."

  He grabbed the hand that was getting ready to poke him again and leaned down until we were nose to nose. "Bullshit," was his only response.

  "No, it's not bullshit," I spat and pulled my hand away. "I sent you letters, Christian!" I yelled in his face.

  "I never got any letters, Mimi!" he yelled back.

  "Yes, you did!" I screamed. I was thrumming with a fury so intense, I had to make sure I didn't hold my breath and pass out.

  Obviously not one to back down, he got right back in my face, saying in a low, menacing voice, "There's no way you sent me any letters and even if you did, which I highly doubt, you have no way to prove it," he countered.

  "Oh, I have no doubt I sent them and no doubt that you got them," I huffed. I could feel my blood pressure rising.

  "And how is that?" he asked, his blue eyes blazing.

  I stepped back and narrowed my eyes. With a hand on my hip, I shook my head. "I cannot believe you have the balls to deny this."

  "Deny what?" he growled. "That you mailed some imaginary letters?"

  "No, Christian. Deny that you got my very real letters!" I exclaimed. I was utterly amazed at his hardheadedness.

  "I am denying it," he said through gritted teeth.

  "I don't see how you can deny it since you wrote me back. Or did that little detail slip your mind?"

  Chapter 11

  Fort Lauderdale, Florida 2002

  Five Years Earlier

  Christian's mother sat at her kitchen table and stared at the letter she held in her hands. It was addressed to Christian and had a California postmark. It was written by an obviously feminine hand. There was no return address. She held it up to her face and caught the unmistakable scent of something fruity and fresh. Christian had never received a letter. Not once. This could only be from one person. Mimi Dillon. So, they'd settled in California. Christy thought the plan was Montana, but she wasn't surprised they changed it. What did surprise her was that if this letter was from Mimi, she was going against her mother's wishes by contacting Christian.

  "How was your day, Owani?" Anthony asked as he came in through the garage door that led into the kitchen. He called Christy Owani, affectionately. It was his pet name for her that his sister had made up as a child; meaning someone who was cherished and prized above all else.

  Christy hadn't heard his truck and looked up at him, her expression unreadable. She normally warmed to the term of endearment he'd been calling her for over twenty years. But she had something else on her mind.

  He chanced a quick glance at her before opening the refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of water.

  "Christy? Is something wrong, baby?" he asked as he walked toward the table.

  She waved the envelope in the air and looked concerned. "This came today. For Christian," she said.

  Anthony was raising the bottle to his lips when he stopped and looked at her. "Who's it from?" he asked.

  "Don't know. No return address and it has a California postmark," she answered.

  The timer on the stove dinged softly, but they both ignored it.

  "Who does he know in California?" Anthony asked, his jaw clenching as the possibility that this letter might be from Mimi sunk in. Anthony cared enough about Grizz, Ginny, and their children to break off their friendship. Even at the expense of his son's feelings.

  "I don't know if he knows anyone from California. I do know that he has never, not once, received a handwritten letter. From anyone. What should we do?" Her big blue eyes were concerned.

  "We open the damn thing and see who it's from for starters," he stated.

  Dear Christian,

  I know it's been months since we moved and I'm sorry it's taken so long to get in touch with you. It's kind of complicated. My mom did marry the man you heard us talking about. James. He's a good man and I'm glad for my mom. I still miss my dad, but I like seeing my mother so happy.

  The reason we didn't want anyone to know where we were going is because my mother is ready to start a new chapter in her life and doesn’t want any sad reminders of our past. I know you understand what I’m talking about so there’s no need for me to go into details. She didn’t feel like we could have a fresh start if we stayed connected to South Florida. Jason and I were ready for a change anyway. I'm sure my mom told your mom how hard things were getting for him at school.

  I'll be starting my senior year in a few weeks. I've already made new friends over the summer, so starting in a new school doesn't seem so scary. I guess you graduated this past spring.

  I have some other news. My mother is pregnant! She's d
ue next year, but the doctor says she might be early because she's having twins. We can hardly believe it. It'll be an adjustment having not one, but two babies in the house.

  I don't know if you remember the last time we played wedding. I don't know if you even remember that we used to play that. Anyway, seeing my mom with her big belly reminded me of it. I don't remember a whole lot, but I do remember one thing. Do you remember the ring you won for me out of the claw machine? I wish I still had it but I don't remember what I did with it.

  I feel a little stupid writing about that memory and I wish I could remember more. But I did promise you I would contact you. I felt like we made a connection that last night before I left. I think I saw in your face that you felt it too. You said that you were afraid that you waited too long, that it was too late. I think you were talking about us. If I'm wrong, this will go down as the most embarrassing letter in history. But I don't think I'm wrong. At least I hope not.

  I also promised my mother and James when we left Florida, I wouldn't look back, and I meant it. But then we had those few minutes alone in your room. I'm breaking a promise by writing this letter. I want to stay in touch with you and the best way, for now, is for me to give you my email address. I set up a new account on a public computer. I think that would be a good thing for you to do the same thing. If we can stay in touch over email for a little bit, maybe as time goes by things will change. You can email me at dreamymimi1985@aol.com.

  I won't be able to check that email regularly, but I will as often as I can. Please email me back so I know you got this letter. I can't wait to catch up with you, Christian, and I'm sorry I didn't make more of an effort when I lived there. I hope you don't think that it's too late. Like I told you that night, and again in this letter, it's not too late for me.

  Love,

  Mimi

  After quietly reading the letter out loud, Christy gently folded it and put it back in the envelope. She didn't have to ask Anthony what they should do. She knew that Christian would never see it.

  "I thought we were successful in squelching anything that might've been brewing between them. I knew he acted differently last year after he drove her home. I got rid of his phone and after convincing him he lost it, I got him a new one in the event she tried to contact him. I even turned Mimi down every time she asked if I needed her to babysit." Christy brushed her hand through her hair and looked up at Anthony. "And you set him up to get busted and sit in juvie for a while." She blew out a long breath and said, "That last night at dinner, I didn't detect anything between them. If anything, I think I remember him stomping off to his room. I guess maybe we didn't do as good a job as we thought we did."

  "We did just fine," Anthony told her. "And I know what you're thinking, Owani. Don't feel bad. Christian isn't mature enough to be trusted with their location or their secret."

  Shaking his head, Anthony headed for the master bathroom to take a shower. Christy shoved the letter from Mimi into her purse. She would get rid of it later. She had to pick Daisy up from dance class. After turning off the oven timer, switching the temperature to low, and praying she wouldn't be ruining another meal, Christy grabbed her keys off the hook and headed for the garage.

  "I'm so sorry, Son. So very sorry," she whispered to herself.

  Chapter 12

  Pumpkin Rest, South Carolina 2007

  I don't know how long Christian and I bickered back and forth about the letters I sent him that he supposedly didn't get, and the letter I received from him that he insisted he hadn't written. When he pressed me for details of what the letter had said, my pride wouldn't allow me to elaborate. It had been too humiliating at the time and I couldn't bring myself to share it with him. Besides, I'd spent the last five years trying to forget about it. Why dredge up a painful reminder?

  We'd made our way to the great room. I sat cross-legged on the couch while he paced back and forth. He’d stuffed his hands in his pockets and was staring at the floor as he walked. I couldn't help but admire the man he'd become—at least physically. I guessed him to be about six feet two inches tall with silky black hair that fell to the middle of his back. His smooth dark skin was flawless and he had very little facial hair. He had classic Native American good looks, like his father. A strong nose and a chiseled chin. And his eyes. His blue eyes, inherited from his mother, could hold a cobra captive. After catching myself staring at his tattooed muscular biceps, I gulped and tried to steer my thoughts away from his appearance.

  "We both agree that my mother dissuaded you from babysitting," he said as he scratched his jaw. "And there's no doubt that my father let me take a fall for a stupid stunt I pulled that sent me to juvie for a while. We don't have any way to know if I lost my phone or my mother took it and made me think I lost it."

  "But we both can agree there seems to be evidence that they didn't want our friendship, or whatever you might want to call it, to continue," I piped in. I swallowed and looked away, embarrassed that I’d hinted at the idea we had more than just a friendship. I looked back at him and was relieved that he was still pacing with his head down. "They were taking my mother's wishes to disappear very seriously. That much is obvious," I added without admitting that I knew the reason why.

  He stopped walking and leveled a gaze at me. "I can believe that one of my parents might've intercepted the letters you mailed me, but I can't even imagine them writing back to you while pretending to be me. They wouldn't do that, Mimi. Especially if it was as hurtful as you're alluding."

  "I got a letter that was signed by you, Christian. Who would do that? Who, other than your parents would have access to your mail?"

  He didn't say anything, but stood there staring at me. Then it dawned on me.

  "You still think I'm lying," I said, without breaking from his gaze.

  He didn't answer at first, but I thought I saw a flash of anger in his eyes before he said, "You lied about other stuff. Stupid stuff."

  I nodded in agreement. "You're right. I guess I was being tested on that little tour you gave me earlier. Now that I think about it, it was a test, wasn't it? Little nonsense questions that your private investigator could've easily dug up."

  The anger I'd thought I'd seen seconds earlier was replaced with something else. It could've been a tad of admiration for guessing what he'd been up to. He gave me a slight nod.

  "You know when we left Florida it was to start a new life." It wasn't a question but a fact. When he didn't reply I continued. "I didn't deliberately lie to you, Christian. I'm embarrassed to say that it's pretty much a habit I've adopted. I'm always on the defensive, waiting to be tripped up so the answers just come out of my mouth automatically."

  "I would've thought I deserved the truth, Mimi. I can't say for sure, but I think I'm your oldest friend."

  My heart did a somersault in my chest. He was right. My earliest childhood memories included Christian and I was immediately catapulted back to a happier time. As if in a trance, I hovered above the long-forgotten memory, and felt a warmth invade my veins.

  "I'll push you on the swings, Mimi. C'mon!" Christian ran toward the swing set, his black braid swaying behind him.

  I glanced at my mother, and after receiving a smiling nod of approval, I bounded happily after him.

  "You have to promise not to push me too high, Christian!" I called out as I excitedly trotted behind him toward the swing set.

  "I promise, Mimi," he yelled back at me.

  Where had that come from? I was certain I’d buried those memories away years ago.

  Shaking my head as if to clear it, I looked at Christian, my attitude softening. "You're right. I'm sorry. Do you want to start over? Ask me anything," I offered. And I made up my mind at that very moment that I would tell him as much as I could without revealing James's true identity. Even though Christian would never meet them, I would even share that my extended family lived just a couple of hours from my college. I braced myself for the barrage of questions that he would be throwing at me and said a silent pra
yer that I wouldn't give anything away about the real reason for my family's secretive move from Florida.

  "Anything?" he asked.

  I nodded. "Yes, Christian. Anything."

  He walked to where I sat on the couch and looked down at me. Our eyes locked for what seemed like an eternity. This is it, Mimi, I told myself. You have to answer his questions as honestly as possible without betraying your family secret. I swallowed, and waited for the first, and what would turn out to be his only question.

  "Are you in love with Lucas Paine?"

  Chapter 13

  Fort Lauderdale, Florida 2007

  "You're a million miles away," Erin whispered in Slade's ear. "Something you want to talk about?"

  She'd just come out of his bathroom and was sitting on the edge of his bed, leaning over him. He turned to face her and gave her a sweet smile.

  "Nah," he told her. "It's boring work stuff."

  "You sure? Because I get the impression this is about a woman." She tilted her head to one side.

  Slade sat up and leaned back against the headboard. "Erin, why would you say that or even think that?" He looked uncomfortable. "I didn't...I didn't..."

  "No," she laughed. "You didn't call me by another name. It's just a feeling I got. Call it women's intuition. And it's perfectly okay. We established rules when this started, remember?"

  He spent the next ten minutes filling her in on the enigma that was Bevin Marconi.

  "Why wait until tomorrow morning to confront her, Slade? You should get dressed, look up her address, and drive straight to her house. This sounds important, and your whole case could be in jeopardy." Erin took the T-shirt off she'd been wearing and tossed it at him. "Here's your shirt back. Get dressed."

  After pulling his shirt over his head, Slade sat up on the edge of the bed and reached for his jeans. He was putting them on when he stopped and gave her a look.