Birthright

by Shay Savage

  “What does the treaty say?”

  “The obvious,” Nate replies, “would be the division of the town. That way we aren’t constantly arguing over which warehouse belongs to which family or what business can be done in what area. The bigger though less obvious division was the business itself—the Orso family kept the documentation business, and the Ramsays kept the drug trade. For the most part, it keeps us out of each other’s hair.”

  “If everything was resolved all those years ago, why the fight now?”

  “Because Janna Ramsay thinks they got the shit end of the deal. She’s not wrong, either. The Orso family has been doing a lot more business since the treaty was formed, and the Ramsays have sunk into oblivion. The other families have no use for them, see them as a potential competitor for the heroin and cocaine, and don’t see them as an asset.”

  “But they do see your family as useful because you provide the forged documentation they need.”

  “Exactly. It puts us in a better light, and sometimes that makes all the difference. Janna knows that and sees us as a threat.”

  “All the difference in what? I mean, if you aren’t in the same business, why does she care what you do?”

  “Because if it ever comes down to it, and there is another conflict, the Chicago and Seattle families would side with us. They know we produce a good product and would come to our aid if we needed it. Even the Irish, Russians, and Japanese would help us out if we asked, though we never have. We also don’t get pulled into the larger competitions.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Well, let’s just say that sometimes wars are decided in a rather brutal manner of competition and leave it at that.”

  “I probably don’t want the details.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  We sit quietly for a minute, and Nate lets me take it all in. Strangely enough, this part is easier to tolerate than the rest of it. It’s even easier for me to accept that I am likely a member of a family in direct opposition to Nate’s than it is to realize my boyfriend has been influenced by delusions of his dead father.

  “There’s something else,” Nate says quietly.

  “I’m not sure I can take anymore.”

  “I need to say it.”

  I sigh and nod.

  “We have a tradition,” he says slowly. “For us, family is everything, and numbers matter. Family means people you can trust, and the bigger the better. When we lose someone like we lost Micha…well, we have to replenish the numbers. That means marriage, marriage and children. If someone in the family dies, someone has to get married so we aren’t weakened.”

  He reaches out to me with one hand. His fingers rest lightly on top of mine, but I don’t move to entwine them.

  “Nora is older than I am, so when Micha died, she was supposed to get married right away. She didn’t, and that…well, it’s like a curse or something. If no one marries, you risk losing someone else. And we…we lost Pops. I remember it now. Nora married right after that.”

  “And then her husband…died.”

  “Yeah, he did.” He can’t look me in the face when he says this, and pauses for a long moment before letting out a sigh. “So I had to get married next. It had to be soon, or we’d risk another loss. That’s when I met you.” He looks up at me with those pleading eyes again. “You were so different from anyone else I’d known. That first night at Big O was one of the best times I’d ever had with someone. You seemed perfect, so I decided…well, I decided you were the person I needed to marry, and I’ve been planning it ever since.”

  “You what?”

  “I’ve been manipulating you.” He looks down at the glass on the table but doesn’t pick it up. “I needed you to fall in love with me. I did everything I could think of—bringing you breakfast, getting you a job, helping you research your parentage—to seduce you. I delayed going to bed with you because I thought it would make you want me more. It was all a ploy. I figured you were used to a modest life, so I stopped myself from doing things in an extravagant or expensive way because I knew you’d appreciate simple, thoughtful gestures over lavish ones. I knew I could win your heart just by treating you nicely and appearing devoted to you.”

  Nate reaches over for the bourbon, drains the glass, and sets it back down on the table as my heart goes cold and my body stills. As I take in what he’s said, I think back to all the times we have been together. I see his sweet texts before bedtime, the gentle touches to the side of my face, and the multitude of romantic gestures in another light.

  “It was all a lie.”

  “Cherry, wait—”

  “No!” I yank my hand away. “You used me! You didn’t care about me at all. You just wanted to…to up your numbers? Seriously? I could have been anyone! You didn’t care who I was!”

  “That’s not true!” He reaches for my hand again.

  I pull away, stand, and head for the door.

  “Don’t leave! Please!” Nate jumps up to follow me.

  “Just give me a fucking minute!” I turn and yell back at him. “I just need a minute.”

  “You can have one, but please hear me out first. Maybe I was manipulating you in the beginning but not anymore.” He quickly walks over to the desk, opening one of the drawers. “During all of this…I don’t know how it happened, but I fell in love with you for real. After that, I wasn’t trying to manipulate you. I really wanted you, Cherry. I still want you.”

  He pulls a small black box from the drawer and sets it on the desk. He opens it to reveal a beautiful diamond solitaire.

  “I was going to give this to you at the end of the festival,” he says quietly. “At first, I bought it because I needed a wife, but now…now I can’t imagine it belonging to anyone other than you. I love you, Cherry. I love you, and I want you to marry me.”

  I stand there, staring at the sparkling gem with my mouth hanging open. I can’t think straight. I hear his words, but I can’t break through the fog in my head to comprehend them. Suddenly, I’m angry. I’m angry that he’s done this in such a way. I’m angry because this moment should be touching and romantic, not filled with mistrust and panic. I narrow my eyes and glare up at him.

  “Worst proposal ever.”

  I stomp out of the house.

  I hear Nate calling my name as I fling myself into the car and screech the tires as I drive away, tears blurring my vision as I rocket down the street. I park the car in front of my building, race to my apartment, and immediately begin packing.

  Chapter 20—Accident

  I rearrange a few of the Dr. Seuss books on the children’s table and take a step back.

  I’m grateful for the job at the Accident library. The work is quiet, isolated, and lonely. Though I can’t say that I like it, the feeling is familiar enough, and I’m not sure I’m ready for much of anything else just yet. I’ve sold a few pieces of furniture on the side but haven’t opened the antique shop to the public so far. Maybe I chould start opening it on the weekends in the near future, but for now I’m just glad to have the daily, mundane distraction of placing novels on a shelf and answering questions about where to find the gardening books.

  Mundane.

  Fear of a stagnant life and loneliness are what had driven me to seek out family and new experiences after Aunt Ginny passed, yet here I am, doing exactly what I didn’t want to be doing. I try not to think about my brief life in Ohio. I don’t want to dwell on the whole idea of belonging to a family. Clearly, that’s not going to work for me.

  I finish my shift, make my way to Main Street, and turn left to head home. A brief flash of another Main Street comes to mind, one with people refusing to cross from one side to the other, but I banish the memory from my head. I don’t need thoughts like that haunting me.

  As if to taunt me, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I don’t take it out to look at it. I haven’t looked at it in weeks. Only one person sends me text messages, and I know who it is. Over the past two months, I’ve ignored all of his me
ssages, but he keeps sending them anyway. I’ve considered blocking the number, but that would require me to look at the phone long enough to figure out how, and I just can’t quite get myself to do it.

  As I pass the antique shop, I hear the phone ringing inside.

  “Shit!”

  I fumble around in my purse for the keys, quickly open the door, and rush inside. I manage to get there just as the ancient rotary dial phone stops ringing, of course. I figure the caller is probably Mrs. Mable since she’s been bugging me about a set of chairs she saw through the window. I start to flip through Aunt Ginny’s Rolodex—as much an antique as any of the furniture in here—to look for Mrs. Mable’s number.

  Before I find the number, the phone rings again, startling me. I grab the handset quickly.

  “Cherry? Is that you?”

  “Yes.” The voice is familiar, but it’s definitely not Mrs. Mable. I can’t quite place who it is. It’s like seeing your pastor on the street in a T-shirt and shorts—too out of place to immediately register.

  “It’s Nora. I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.”

  I freeze. I want to just slam the phone back into its cradle, but I can’t quite bring myself to be so rude. I bite my lip, and my hands begin to shake.

  “I’ve been texting you,” Nora says, “but you haven’t responded.”

  “I figured it was Nate again.” I mash my lips together, angry with myself for even uttering his name.

  “Yeah, he said he’s texted you a few times.”

  “More like a few hundred.” I grit my teeth. Though I do miss Nora—I can’t lie about that—this is the exact conversation I don’t want to have. “I don’t want to talk to you, Nora.”

  “I just want to know you’re okay,” Nora insists. “I’m worried about you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t sound fine. I know Nate isn’t fine.”

  “I really don’t care at this point!” I can’t stop the anger from coming out in in my voice. Just talking to Nora brings the memories back, and I’m not prepared for them. “Do you even know what he did? In the middle of all that shit, he brought out a ring and proposed. He fucking proposed!”

  “Well, Cherry dear,” Nora says with a sigh, “my brother is an idiot.”

  “That’s obvious!”

  “But in this case, he’s a sincere idiot.”

  “He just used me, Nora! Nothing about our relationship was real!”

  “Maybe in the beginning,” she says, “but that changed long before you ran off. He really cares for you, Cherry. He’s getting help, you know. I honestly couldn’t imagine he’d agree to it, but he knew he had to if he was ever going to have a chance.”

  “A chance at what?”

  “Seeing you again.”

  “Not going to happen.”

  “He loves you. He hopes if he gets the help he needs, he’ll at least get the chance to make amends. He’s never been like this with anyone else. Maybe it started out as deception, but it isn’t any more.”

  “He lied to me.”

  “He lied to himself,” Nora grumbles. “He was being manipulated, and I think you know who was behind it all.”

  “Who?”

  “Pops.”

  “Your dead father? That’s the best excuse you can come up with?”

  “Nate and Pops had a…tumultuous relationship. Nate always wanted Pops to be proud of him and to treat him with respect, the way Pops treated Micha. He never got that when Pops was alive. I think maybe…maybe he needed that approval so much, he concocted this image of Pops in his head.”

  “So, he’s insane as well.”

  “We all have our baggage, Cherry,” Nora says. “Does that mean we’re all crazy? Pops’ being a devil on Nataniele’s shoulder actually makes sense. Nate wasn’t behaving like himself at all. Our father was, well, he was not a good person. He ran the family with a patriarchal iron fist ever since mom died. Micha wasn’t much better, but Nate was never like either of them. He’s finally starting to act like my brother again. It’s going to take time, but he’s really trying. He’s trying for you.”

  I bite my lip again as images of Nate parade through my head, and tears well in my eyes.

  “I’m glad he’s getting help,” I finally say. “I want him to get better, but that doesn’t mean I can be a part of it.”

  “I think if you listened to him now, you might understand better.”

  I conjure a picture of Nora in my mind—the woman who had been one of the few girlfriends I’d ever had in my life. Yes, she’s Nate’s sister, but on that horrible night, I didn’t feel the anger or hostility from her because I’m a child of the Ramsay family. She defended me.

  “I do miss you, Nora,” I say. “I really do, but I’m not ready for any of this. Not yet.”

  “I understand, and I know I’m interfering. I’m sorry for that, but I can’t help myself. I miss you, and I hate seeing my brother this way. You have every right to be angry, but Nataniele is trying to get himself together again. I hope at some point you will give him a chance to tell you what’s going on in that head of his. It might be good for you both. He’s really a very sensitive boy, you know. He always was. It’s why he and Pops never got along.”

  “Maybe someday.”

  “It’s your choice, but I hope you will. I hope when you do, you’ll listen with an open mind. In the meantime, please keep in touch with me, at least. I want to know you’re all right.”

  I reluctantly agree before hanging up the phone. After wiping my cheeks, I continue the short trek to the house while staring at my feet. At first, I don’t even notice the woman standing on the front porch, waiting for me. I startle when she says hello.

  I narrow my eyes, trying to figure out who she is. I assume it’s someone looking for antiques, and her face is vaguely familiar, but I don’t quite recognize her. She’s tall and dressed in a long, expensive-looking leather coat and red pumps. Her hair is dark and wavy. She looks a little familiar, that’s for sure, but like Nora’s voice on the phone, I can’t place her right away.

  “Hello, Cherry!” She gives me a friendly wave as I approach.

  “Hi.” I tilt my head, still trying to place her.

  “Do you know who I am?” she asks, smiling broadly with her red-painted lips.

  “I…I don’t think so.”

  She takes a few steps off the porch, extending her hand to me. I take it automatically, but a tightening inside my gut makes me wary.

  “I’ve been wanting to meet you officially for a long time,” the woman says.

  “I’m sorry?” I don’t know what else to say.

  “I’m the one who should be apologizing,” she says, “showing up on your doorstep like this. I’m afraid I wasn’t sure how else to contact you.”

  “Are you looking for furniture?” I blurt out.

  “Oh, no.” She laughs melodiously. “I’m looking for you, Cherice. My name is Janna Ramsay.”

  I take a step back as my head spins—first Nora’s call and now this. After spending my time avoiding the issues of Nate, my parentage, and everything in Cascade Falls altogether, this is too much. Why is she here? What does she want? Should I run away as fast as I can or invite her inside for tea? I back away a bit more, glancing around as if I expect to be surrounded by armed guards.

  “I see from the look on your face that the Orso family has told you about me. I assure you, most of what they’ve said are lies. We are rivals, that’s for sure, but my family members are not the bad guys here, Cherice.” She laughs again. “I should say our family, right?”

  I cringe at the words, swallowing hard and trying to keep my composure and surely failing. I feel a little sick to my stomach. One thing I know for sure, she’s right about the Orso family lying to me. My whole relationship with Nate was built on lies, so maybe he lied about the Ramsays as well.

  I look around again, noticing for the first time the bright red car in the driveway. I don’t see anyone else inside of it, and th
ere are no other strange cars around.

  “I’m here alone,” Janna says. “I just wanted to meet you and hoped you’d be willing to talk to me.”

  I’ve only seen blurry photos of her before, so I look at her face, trying to find any resemblance, but my mind is too befuddled to make a decent comparison. Her hair is dark, like Nate’s, not red, but red hair is recessive trait. At least, I think it is. My mind stays focused on trying to remember that little factoid, and I can’t reply to her at all.

  “You must have a lot of questions,” Janna says. “I thought maybe you would reach out to me, but when you didn’t…well, here I am.”

  She is part of my family.

  “So, we really are related?” I finally manage to say.

  “We’re sisters, yes,” she says with a kind smile. “Just a year apart, actually. I can’t imagine what you’ve been told. Could we possibly go inside and discuss it? I’ve been waiting for a while and would love to sit for a bit.”

  I stop myself from making a comment about inappropriate shoes and reluctantly lead her into the house and sit across from her in the living room. Though I’m sure Aunt Ginny would be appalled that I’m not offering my guest a refreshment, I’m not interested in pleasantries at the moment. However, I do have questions—a lot of them—and Janna may very well have the answers.

  “Have you known about me all this time?” I ask bluntly.

  “To some degree, yes.” Janna relaxes easily against the couch cushions and crosses one leg over the other. “I knew I had a sister and that she was being raised by my aunt. I didn’t understand the details until more recently.”

  I stare at her, waiting for her to continue. Finally, she does.

  “A little over a year ago, I found out where you were. I contacted Sofia and asked about you. She told me it wasn’t time to introduce you to the family just yet. She thought you had enough on your plate and didn’t need the added encumbrance of knowing your extended family. She said you were happy here, and we accepted that.”