by Inara Scott
Lexi followed Kaia down the hall and out the door. She called after her, but saw there were other women around her, and they were all tall and beautiful like Kaia. They wouldn’t want to be bothered with a little girl.
The sun beat down on the parking lot, and heat rose up from the blacktop in wavy lines. The church backed up to a little park with swings and a baseball diamond, but it was too hot to play outside. Lexi shrank back toward the church doors and hid behind a bench, watching as the girls hugged Kaia, one by one. They all seemed to be sad, even as they bickered with each other, arguing about someone named Zafira, and an imp, and something about Garrett—were they talking about her Uncle Garrett?
Lexi strained to hear them, but all she could hear were murmurs and whispers.
The girls walked over to a huge old tree and looked around, as if they were checking to make sure they were alone. When they decided they were, they held hands and reached up toward the sky. Golden light spilled forth from the center of the circle that they formed, and Lexi had to look away because it blinded her. She looked back and saw that the girls were rising from the ground.
No, not rising.
Flying.
Their bodies were the same beautiful shapes they had been before, but now they glowed as if they had swallowed the sun. From somewhere behind them, or maybe somewhere inside them, wings had emerged. Beautiful, butterfly-shaped wings, shimmering with all the colors of the rainbow.
Lexi blinked. And blinked again. She smiled. Because really, she had known it all along.
Kaia was a faerie.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“We can’t let her leave.” Rachel pounded on the armrest of her wheelchair, glaring at Garret and Ted. “One of you has got to run after her, damn it! By the time I get this damn chair out there she’ll be gone.”
Garrett crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “So? She made it perfectly clear that she was leaving. And that she’s been lying to us for the past two months. I haven’t the foggiest idea why we’d want to go chasing after her.”
He was already trying to erase the last image he had of her—the tears running down her face, the words, “I fell in love with you” ringing in his ears.
“Because she’s clearly mixed up in something nasty, that’s why,” Rachel snapped. “She’s in trouble, Garrett. She wasn’t leaving because she wanted to, she was leaving because someone said she had to. I don’t know why she lied to us any more than you do, but I know Kaia is no prostitute.”
“She’s a big girl,” Garrett said. “If she wanted our help, she could have asked for it a long time ago. She had hundreds of opportunities to tell us what was really going on with her and she didn’t take any of them. Not a single one.” Garrett shrugged and started to walk toward the door. “I have no desire to run around trying to rescue someone who doesn’t try to rescue herself.”
“Garrett, that’s enough.” Ted’s voice stopped him mid-step.
“Excuse me?” Garrett spun around. The last time Ted had tried to order him around was—well, never.
His friend gave him a hard stare. “For the past month, you’ve been running around trying to prove to everyone how much you don’t care about this girl. And you know what? It’s crap. I know it. And you know it.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re in love with her. You’re doing your absolute best to pretend you aren’t because you’re so damn scared that she’s going to disappoint you. The truth is, she isn’t your mother. She isn’t Portia or Max or anyone else who doesn’t meet your high standards. She’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you. And you’re an absolute idiot if you let her go.”
“I think you’re out of line,” Garrett warned.
For some reason, for the first time in his life, Ted ignored the warning. “I may be out of line, but you’re my best friend and I’m not going to let you ruin your life because you’re too blind to see what’s right in front of you.”
“Oh really,” Garrett said icily. His brain had become chaotic, a swirl of competing images and voices. Kaia, laughing as he tickled the arch of her foot. Kaia, crying out with pleasure when he made love to her in the morning, the sun catching in her hair. Kaia behind the counter at Rachel’s Roses, her face flushed and guilty, caught in her own web of lies.
Kaia, telling them she wasn’t allowed to fall in love.
“And what has inspired this newfound desire to act as my personal conscience?”
Ted looked down at Rachel and brushed his hand against her cheek. She sighed and leaned against it.
“I almost lost her,” he said, smiling at his wife of less than two hours. “And it would have been a stupid, crazy accident. This won’t be an accident. You’ll have to live with the knowledge that you had something wonderful and you didn’t even fight for it.” He stared at Garrett, hard and unflinching. “I can’t let you do that. I won’t let you do that.”
Garrett stared back at him for a long time. In that instant, something cold and painful inside of him dissolved.
Ted was right. He did love her.
Damn it. He didn’t want to love her. He didn’t want this feeling, this mix of longing and passion and vulnerability all mixed together. He couldn’t turn away from her. He couldn’t harden his heart, believe the worst, and walk away. Because he loved her.
He’d been trying to pretend it wasn’t true. He’d worked harder than ever before, practically buried himself in his office so he couldn’t think about her. He’d inflicted Portia on himself in massive doses just to prove that Kaia was wrong. He’d even dragged out the letter his mother had sent to him when he turned eighteen and tortured himself by re-reading it.
His efforts kept backfiring. In the stark light of day, he had to admit that Portia had a single-minded devotion to ensuring his success—as she defined success, which was, admittedly, purely financial. When he re-read his mother’s letter he saw words he had never noticed before. Words like, ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘I love you.’
Damn it.
Kaia had been right, right about everything. Except him being an island. Because he wasn’t an island. He’d needed love all his life. He’d just been too hurt to realize he’d always had it.
And because of his stupid, broken heart, he’d let her go.
The realization ripped at him with sharp, painful claws. Ted was right. He would regret this moment for the rest of his life.
He yanked open the door and ran outside.
§
Garrett tore down the church steps, certain he’d see her walking away. The parking lot was empty, as was the sidewalk and street. He saw Lexi, hiding behind the bench. He crouched down beside her, fighting to keep the raw panic from his voice. “Lexi, did you see Kaia? This is important, honey. Did you see which way she went?”
“She’s a faerie, Uncle Garrett.” Lexi’s eyes were wide with shock. “She grew wings and flew away with the other faeries. They said something about you, and about Zafira. She’s the queen of the faeries, you know. Kaia told me that herself.”
“What?” He frowned. “I don’t have time for games, Lexi. This is serious. Kaia could be in trouble.” Even as he waited for her response, he began flipping through his next steps. He couldn’t call the police; he had no evidence of foul play. A private detective, maybe?
“I’m not lying!” Lexi’s jaw set in a stubborn line. “I know you don’t want me to talk about faeries, but I saw her. She had butterfly wings and they were all different colors, and she glowed like she was the sun. So did all the other girls. She was crying, Uncle Garrett. Why was she crying?”
Unbidden, an image entered his mind. That night in the Avalon, when he’d awoken to see her hovering above him, glowing with a golden light while iridescent, multi-layered wings cast colors all around him.
Ridiculous. He shook the silly thought from his head. “Lexi, I don’t know why you think you saw that, but faeries aren’t real. I’m sorry. They must have tricked you somehow.”
Lexi began t
o cry.
§
The search began with the obvious places—buses, airports, trains. From there, they tried the rental cars and hotels, using every trick and favor they could employ, bribing every clerk they had to bribe, for any mention of her name.
Nothing.
Days passed by. There was no sign of Kaia or the group of three extraordinarily beautiful women who had taken her away with them. They searched the apartment over Rachel’s store, where Kaia had left her pitifully small collection of belongings, including the incredible silver dress that still haunted Garrett every time he saw it. No phone numbers, letters, or documents gave any hint of where she might have gone. Garrett called the private investigator he’d hired more than a month ago. David began checking state records. After an extensive search, they found no evidence that Kaia Verde or her purported husband, Charlie, had ever existed.
In any state.
Anywhere.
Garrett had driven around Miami at night, in the worst sections of town, half-thinking he might find Kaia there, a streetwalker, forced to sell her body to support someone named Zafira’s drug habit.
He began to lose hope. The fear gnawed at him until he couldn’t concentrate on anything else. He stopped going to work, stopped returning emails, even stopped fighting with Portia. The only thing he could think about was Kaia.
After two weeks of looking, David told them there was little more he could do. They had no leads, no other names to search.
They would have to give up.
Garrett took the news in silence and drove straight to a little blue house in north Miami, to an address he’d had in his head for almost twenty years. He didn’t know why he was there, except that he couldn’t do anything else. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t go back to his apartment and know that Kaia’s dress was still in his closet.
He couldn’t look in the mirror and know he was the one who had chased her away.
A shadow appeared in the window of the house and he watched it for a few minutes. He wondered how the woman inside managed to keep going after she’d made her own mistakes. He wondered, with an unsteady breath, if it really had been about his trust fund. If that was the only reason she’d wanted to see him again.
Kaia’s voice sounded in his head: “I’m sorry and I love you. That’s what it means to be human.”
He remembered all those birthday cards, the letter he’d re-read every night since Kaia disappeared. He felt the rain falling as his mother spun him around, and the look in her eyes when she’d hugged him good-bye.
He took a deep breath and opened the door.
§
She did not cry, or faint, or sob, or have some sort of fit. Victoria Jameson simply looked at him with a pair of eyes so familiar he felt momentarily dizzy before she nodded and invited him inside for a cup of coffee.
Her house was not what he’d expected from the quiet, manicured exterior. The walls were filled with art of every style and form. Scattered among the professional pieces were children’s pictures. Bright colors, clumsy names in the corners. He staggered a little when he recognized a clay bowl he had made in the second grade. On the wall next to it was a picture of a dragon facing a knight on horseback. The name “Garrett Jameson” was scrawled across the bottom in uneven letters.
“How do you take your coffee?” she asked.
“With cream and sugar,” he said.
She nodded. “You always did have a sweet tooth.”
He froze, thinking of the ice cream and cookies she’d bring home after a night out with a new boyfriend.
“What brings you here? It’s been a long time.” She betrayed little emotion, but when she pushed a lock of gray hair behind her ear, he noticed her hands were trembling.
He stuck his hands deep in his pockets. “I just… ” He had to stop to clear his throat. “I wanted to see you. I have for a long time.”
She turned around and looked at him. There was a wariness in her eyes and wrinkles around the corners that were deeper and more pronounced than they should have been in a fifty-year-old woman. But he saw signs of Portia’s toughness, too, in the stiff set to her shoulders and rigidly straight back.
“I’m glad you did.”
They moved to the living room. She made him coffee and brought out a small tray filled with cookies.
Victoria balanced her coffee on her knee. She assessed him silently. “Did she ever talk about me?”
He shook his head. “She only said you weren’t coming back.”
“You must have questions.”
He nodded.
Victoria drew a deep breath and gave him a small, uneven smile. “I might as well start at the beginning. Portia and I started fighting right after my father died. I was ten. I adored my father and he adored me. He was a tough man—I knew people were terrified of him—but he was always gentle with me. He enrolled me in dance classes, insisted I learned to play piano, and encouraged me to try out for the school play—all things that Portia hated. When he died, she cut me off. She was irrational—she allowed no make-believe, no fantasy, and especially no music. Everything was about work. And I hated her for it.”
Victoria’s blue eyes gleamed with the memory, and Garrett felt the sting of bile rise in his throat.
“She was the same way with me and Max,” he said. “I started playing sax when I was in fifth grade. I don’t think she even knew our nanny had signed me up for lessons for a couple of years. When I hit high school I had concerts at night and my grades slipped, just a little. She forced me to stop playing.”
Victoria flinched. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I knew she would be tough. I thought… it was better for you than… ”
She stopped, visibly fighting for control. “I started taking drugs in eighth grade. They gave me a way to escape. She could control my body, but not my mind. Before I knew it I was messed up, hanging out with some tough characters. I got pregnant.” She spread her hands helplessly. “I was a kid. I didn’t know what to do, but I couldn’t imagine raising a baby around Portia. So I ran away. I followed my boyfriend to Chicago.”
“My father,” Garrett said. “What was he like?”
Victoria took a slow sip of coffee. “He was much older than me, a traveling musician. He sang like an angel. He wrote songs about me and told me he loved me. And maybe he did. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t deal with a baby. He disappeared a few months after I started to show.”
Garrett heard Kaia’s voice telling him how hard it must have been for his mother, how she must have been terrified, trying to raise a child on her own with no job, no home, and no money. “How did you do it?”
“I relied on the kindness of strangers. I waited tables until I had you, and spent some time in a shelter. I had boyfriends.” She looked at him, her eyes glittering with intensity. “I was a lousy mother—a lousy person. I did a lot of drugs, slept with a lot of men. I knew every day that I was failing you, and every day I woke up and told myself I was going to do better. And one day I almost killed you and Max, and I knew I couldn’t keep doing it any longer. When Portia came to me and said she would take you both in, but only if I promised to disappear and never come back, I had to agree. You understand, don’t you? Portia was your only chance for a decent life.”
“She told you that you had to disappear?” he repeated, his stomach lurching.
Victoria carefully placed her cup on a table next to the couch. She stood, turning her back on him as she examined a familiar picture on the wall. Garrett knew without looking for a name that Max had drawn it.
“She took you in and gave you a home. You’re successful, you and Max both. I could never have done that for you. If you’d stayed with me you would have been lucky to survive.”
“She cut you off,” Garrett said. The truth resonated through him. His mother hadn’t abandoned him by choice. She’d been forced away by Portia. “She wouldn’t let you see us or communicate with us.”
How could he not have known?
He was quiet for a long time, thinking about all the years of hurt and anger. Years of not knowing. Of blaming. Strangely, he couldn’t muster any fresh resentment against his grandmother. She’d done what she thought she needed to do. And really, where had it gotten her?
Victoria picked up the tiny clay bowl he’d made as a child and flipped it over in her hand. “Garrett, why are you here? Why now?”
To his utter and complete humiliation, he found tears pricking his eyes.
“I made a horrible mistake,” he said. “I hurt someone I loved. I don’t know what happened to her, but whatever happened it’s my fault.” He tightened his jaw at the unfamiliar sensation clutching his chest. “She could be in trouble. She could be dead, and I’ll probably never know.”
Victoria placed her hand on his shoulder. The touch reminded him of things he had always tried to forget. Of the nights he’d spent huddled in her arms and the songs she’d sang to him when he couldn’t fall asleep.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I don’t know why I’m here, really. I suppose it’s not right to come after all this time. I just thought you might understand.”
When he turned to look at her, there were tears coursing down her face.
“Oh, I do,” she whispered, reaching out to brush his hair off his forehead with a soft touch. “I sure do.”
He let her words wash over him. She got him some water and a tissue and watched as he rubbed his face in his hands and struggled to regain his composure.
