Blood Strangers: Behind Closed Doors: Family Secrets

by Hinze, Vicki

  “There’s no reason for them to come back. This Gabby Johnson is not their Gabby Johnson. She can’t be here and twenty miles south at the same time, can she?”

  “No, she can’t.” Gabby smiled. “And she isn’t their Gabby Johnson. She’s barely even their Gabby Blake anymore.”

  Plumber frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “It’s nothing.” She shook her head.

  “Tell me,” he insisted.

  “I used to dream of a life like this. One where I could just be me and be happy. One where I knew people’s names and they knew mine, and we—”

  “We what?” Plumber pushed her to go on.

  “We shared our lives. The good and bad, the ups and down. I dreamed about having that kind of life. I prayed for it and wanted it so badly. But down deep I never believed I would actually have it.”

  “You’ve got us, Gabby.” A woman’s voice sounded from behind her on the lawn.

  Gabby spun toward the sound and watched the woods come to life with the faces of those she’d already met in Christmas Cove as well as those she hadn’t. Lys and Sara walked among them. And they were all armed.

  “You’re all here for me?” Gabby couldn’t believe her eyes. Were they angry with her? She cast a sideward glance at Plumber. “Do they want me to leave?”

  “No, they’re here to protect you—and Kelly and me.” Plumber smiled. “Our backup.”

  Gabby’s jaw fell slack. “I—I can’t believe this.”

  “You’re one of us now, Gabby.” Plumber hooked an arm around her shoulder. “I told you Lys and Sara wouldn’t have to ask for help.”

  Alyce came forward and hugged Gabby. “You okay, hon?”

  “I’m better than I’ve been in my whole life.” She smiled at the group of locals. “Thank you—all of you.”

  Alyce sniffed. “Those two reeked of trouble. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say.”

  Pastor Ruther stepped forward. “The rubbish just checked out of the B & B. Fred is following them to the Interstate to make sure they’re gone.”

  “Thank you.” Gabby smiled. “I guess this explains why Main Street was deserted. You’re all here.”

  A collective chuckle rippled to her. “So, it does,” the pastor said, then looked at Plumber. “We’re headed to the festival, then. Blessing of the Fleet is in an hour. Don’t be late!”

  “But we already did that.” Gabby was confused.

  “That was the rehearsal for the locals. This one is the real deal.” Pastor stepped forward, touched her hand. “You’ve had quite the day, Gabby.”

  She had.

  “Don’t you worry. You’ll be fine. Better than fine. You’ll be safe here. This is your home now.”

  His words filled her empty heart. She’d rarely in her life felt safe or at home. Her throat thick, she whispered, “Thank you, Pastor Ruther.”

  He nodded then turned. “Everyone, stow your weapons and get to the festival before the funnel cake batter is wrecked.” He whispered to Gabby. “That batter goes bad and I’ll be in the doghouse for a week.”

  “Gabby’s Treasures isn’t ready to open yet, but if you get into a fix, call me. I’ll make you some soaps. They shorten doghouse time.”

  “Good thinking.” He smiled. “Thank you, Gabby.”

  Plumber and Gabby stood on the porch and watched the cluster of Covers make their way to the main road. A bright yellow school bus pulled to a stop and they all got inside.

  “The school bus?” Gabby smiled.

  “A string of cars would’ve stuck out like a sore thumb. Bain would have spotted that.”

  “True.” Gabby grunted, watching the bus pull away. She swiveled to look at Plumber. “Your plan was a lot more developed than I thought.”

  Kelly emerged from the cottage looking like herself again. “I’ll see you two when you get to the festival.”

  “Thanks again, Kelly,” Gabby said.

  “No problem. That’s what cops and friends do.” Kelly made her way down the steps and to her car, then paused at its door and looked back at Gabby. “You’re relieved of duty tonight. You’ve had a wicked day. But next year, I get double-time.”

  “You got it.”

  Lys stepped over and hugged Gabby. “Glad you’re safe, and I hope this ends the drama.”

  “Me, too.”

  “But if it doesn’t, we’re here. Don’t forget that.”

  “I won’t, Lys. Thanks.”

  “Move it, Sara,” Lys said. “I’ve got a bone to pick with the mayor.”

  Sara gave Gabby a quick hug, then rushed after Lys. “Lys Hayden, if you put him in a foul mood, Mama and I are going to be really ticked off at you.”

  Gabby looked at Plumber. “Sara’s dad is the mayor?”

  Plumber nodded. “Why didn’t you stay at the station?”

  “You know why.”

  “Gabby—”

  She ignored the warning in his tone. “It worked out fine.” Before he could fuss anymore, she kissed him. “I love you, Shadow Watcher, Plumber, Justin Wade.”

  “Not yet,” he said. “You love Shadow Watcher. Maybe even Plumber. But not yet Justin Wade.”

  “You could be right,” she said.

  “I am.”

  “But I do know my own mind, and you could be wrong. Maybe I fell in love with all of you before I ever saw you.”

  He studied her face and a little twinkle lit in his eye. “Maybe you did.”

  She smiled.

  “So, you forgive me then—for not telling you the truth sooner?”

  “I thank you, Plumber. For everything, including loving me. Just so you know, I’m a novice at loving and definitely at being loved. You’ll need to bear with me while I learn the ropes.”

  His expression turned tender. “We’ll muddle through it together.”

  “Promise?”

  “I do.”

  Gabby looked up into his face unable to believe all the changes that had happened in her life. She thought she’d lost everything. Everything she’d never wanted, true, but a life she’d built, and losing it had been hard. Yet, in losing it, she had gained everything she’d always wanted, including some things she hadn’t even realized she’d wanted. But she did want them. She really did.

  Plumber took a quick phone call. “Yeah. I said yeah, sis. I’ll tell her.” He stowed his phone.

  “Everything okay?” Gabby asked.

  “Kelly is expecting us for dinner on Christmas at six. You’re to make brownies. She had one at Alyce’s and she wants a double batch for herself, the little glutton. She’ll be griping about packing on extra pounds until St. Patrick’s Day.”

  I gave her a tin . . . wait. She wasn’t there, so I put them in the back of Sara’s van.”

  Plumber rolled his eyes. “They’re gone.”

  “Sara does love brownies.” Gabby laughed hard and deep. Christmas dinner at six. This Christmas, she would not be alone . . .

  The joy of seeing a promise made to herself fulfilled spread through her.

  And just like that, the pain of living a lifetime as blood strangers behind closed doors, keeping the family secrets, was laid to rest.

  FamilySecrets.Life

  LOVE TRUMPS BLOOD

  They say you can’t choose your family.

  You just love them anyway.

  I guess you can do that, until you can’t.

  When you’re scared out of your wits, alone, and have nowhere to turn, put out an SOS, then look around and see who shows up.

  Who offers help, refuge, aid? Who doesn’t abandon you?

  Or hold you hostage for a kindness?

  That could be someone related by blood.

  But it could also be a friend.

  Maybe someone you didn’t realize was such a good friend

  as he or she proves to be.

  Family can be just about anyone.

  It isn’t blood that makes them so.

  It’s a spirit of love.

  FamilySecrets.Life


  Sneak Peek

  Savage Beauty © 2020 by Peggy Webb

  The foundation of every relationship is trust. Whether in friendship or marriage, each partner should be like an inviting and nurturing home with every nook and cranny open to the light of truth. No secrets. No lies.

  FamilySecrets.Life

  * * *

  ONE

  Ocean Springs could be any other coastal town in the Deep South with its quaint shops and tea rooms overlooking the blue waters of the Mississippi Sound where everything from fishing boats to yachts ride the waves. But the truth of this otherwise sleepy town is far more dramatic.

  Ninety miles of barrier islands, lying ten miles offshore, separate the sound from the Gulf of Mexico and create protected waters fed by two great rivers--the Pearl and the Pascagoula. The combination of salt and fresh water forms a sea teeming with plant and animal life.

  And many would say secrets.

  In the early twentieth century, the wildly eccentric artist Walter Anderson put Ocean Springs on the map by capturing the magic of sea and island on canvas. His art and his history still loom over the town.

  But looming even larger is Allistair Manor, a gothic mansion on the highest point in the outskirts of the city that protects the lives, loves and scandals of three generations of Allistairs, the royal family of American horticulture.

  Sitting inside her bedroom suite in the second floor west wing of the manor, Lily felt the full weight of the house, the family name, and its legends. This evening she would be introduced to the world as the woman who would soon become an Allistair. This evening her life would change forever.

  Her mind told her everything was going to be perfect, but her heart had its own opinion. It beat like the wings of a caged wild bird.

  Even the diamond and ruby necklace in the jeweler’s box on her dressing table made a statement about her future. Twenty-seven carats of precious stones winked at her with eyes turned fiery in the lamplight, and yet secretive as they nestled among the folds of the black velvet box.

  The gift was the latest of many from her fiancé, Stephen, all far too extravagant. Lily was not a diamonds and rubies kind of woman. She wasn’t even a lady-of-the-manor kind of girl. She was a practical single mom and interior designer who had moved in with her fiancé a week ago because her lease was about to run out. With the wedding now less than three weeks away, it didn’t make sense to pay another year’s rent.

  Besides, it was far easier to redecorate her new home onsite than to run back and forth from her downtown apartment. And there was the crux of her problem. This was no ordinary house. It was a dark mausoleum filled with outdated furniture and locked rooms.

  How could she ever make it a home if there were rooms she couldn’t enter? When she’d broached the subject to Stephen, he’d told her the archives of Allistair Roses were housed behind locked doors to protect the horticultural secrets of one of the world’s most famous families of rose breeders. Preventing piracy in the business was common.

  Still, the very idea of forbidden rooms in her own home had sent her to the new online site, FamilySecrets.life, where a team of psychologists offered advice and private counseling on an array of family issues. She’d been reassured to learn that it was the relationship, not the house, that mattered. She was on solid ground with Stephen.

  “I worry too much. That’s all.”

  She could—and would--transform the living quarters and turn the house into a home she would love. Hopefully, so would her daughter.

  Annabelle was storming down the hallway this very minute, making no bones about her state of mind. Lily would recognize her daughter’s combative march anywhere.

  “Mom!” Annabelle knocked once but didn’t wait for an answer. She swept into the bedroom, her strawberry blond hair in a messy ponytail, her tee shirt untucked from her blue jeans, and her full panoply of teenaged angst on display. “I look dorky in this dress. I don’t care if your stupid fiancé did give it to me. I’m not wearing it to the party.”

  Her daughter tossed the dress onto the bed and crossed her arms over her chest. At fifteen, she was already showing the curves of maturity. Not as much as her best friend Cee Cee, who trailed behind her, but still Lily felt a momentary shock at how quickly time had flown.

  It seemed only yesterday Lily had been a teenager herself, fatherless, living on the edge of poverty, and pregnant out of wedlock.

  “Let me take a look.” When Lily picked up the dress, Annabelle rolled her eyes.

  “See! It’s pink. With ruffles!”

  Lily wished her fiancé had consulted her first. But when had someone as powerful as an Allistair consulted anybody? Stephen had unilaterally decided to ignore their spring wedding date and book the church for early January. Just thinking about it gave Lily a headache.

  Granted, he’d been a bachelor for thirty-nine years. He’d never even come close to marriage, which probably explained why he couldn’t come up with a logical reason for the rush. She was definitely going to talk to him. Tonight. After the party.

  Now, she said to her daughter, “Stephen meant well.” He always did, didn’t he?

  She really should correct Annabelle about calling him stupid, but she would save that for later. She knew the humiliation of being singled out in front of friends. “He’s a good person, and he loves you, Annabelle. You have to try.”

  “I don’t care what you say. If I have to wear that dress I’m not going.”

  An argument over a dress would do nothing but exacerbate the situation.

  “Okay. I can accept that.”

  “Mom, you’re the best!” Annabelle gave her a bear hug.

  “You’re not off the hook. You have to thank Stephen for the dress.”An eye roll from her daughter. ”And you have to mean it. As soon as he gets back from the airport with his mom, find him and explain that you want to wear the party dress Gran made.”

  Lily’s mom, a seamstress, had died quietly in her sleep at the end of spring. The thought of her mother not getting to see her walk down the aisle with a good man made Lily’s heart hurt.

  “Okay,” Annabelle said. “I can do that.” She gave her best friend a high five. “Look at Cee Cee. I don’t know why he picked out a little kid’s dress for me and gave her one that makes her look like a Hollywood movie star.”

  Cee Cee was already wearing her gift, a charming blue velvet dress that matched her eyes and set off skin that looked like the finest mahogany. Her curly black hair made a halo around a sculpted face the cameras would love.

  “You look beautiful.” Lily hugged her close.

  From the moment Cee Cee and Annabelle had met in fifth grade, Lily had tucked this shy but endearing child into her heart and under her wing. Cee Cee had never known her father and had been given up by her mother then shuffled from one foster home to another for years. Lily had tried to fill the void. That included inviting her to spend school holidays with them and as much of the summer as her foster parents would allow. To Lily, Cee Cee was part of the family, another child to love.

  “When I tried my new dress on, I couldn’t take it off,” Cee Cee said. “I feel like a princess in a fairy tale. Have you seen the decorations downstairs, Lily?”

  “Not yet.” Lily was as happy as if she’d personally put every decoration in place. Cee Cee deserved a fairy-tale experience, and so much more. She was determined to help this child achieve her dreams.

  “There are four gigantic Christmas trees all done in blue and silver,” Cee Cee said. “It looks like a castle or something.”

  Annabelle snorted. “More like the Addams Family. This whole house is creepy. I expect Lurch to pop out from behind one of the stupid locked doors. Every time I go near one I get a lecture about snooping from that old man with the missing pinkie.”

  Now she’d gone too far.

  “You cannot talk that way about Stephen’s grandfather.”

  “He does have only nine fingers, which is creepy.”

  “Annabelle!”

&
nbsp; Her daughter raised her hands in mock surrender. “Okay. Sorry, Mom. I’m going out front now to wait for Stephen.”

  “Be nice to him, and his mother, too,” she said, but she wasn’t sure Annabelle heard. The girls were already racing off.

  Lily slipped out of her robe and into her bath. When Stephen’s grandfather Clive escorted her into the party, he’d look every inch the aristocratic patriarch and powerful founder of a Southern family empire. She had no intention of embarrassing the family or herself.

  * * *

  Reporters had descended on Allistair Manor from all the major national television and newspaper networks. Some had even flown in from France and Great Britain.

  And why shouldn’t they? Stephen C. Allistair was unveiling not only his bride-to-be but his latest hybridized creation, a stunning blue rose with white edging. There was nothing like it in Allistair Roses, and very few in the world. Breeders had not achieved a blue rose until eleven years ago, and then their efforts ran more toward lilac than true blue. Stephen’s vivid blue rose was so breathtaking it rivaled the Allistair rose that had started their horticultural empire. His grandfather Clive’s world-renowned black rose.

  “When is your precious Lily Perkins coming down?” Stephen’s mother glided into place beside him at the bottom of the grand staircase. “Reporters from CNN and FOX are already clamoring to interview me.”

  He tamped down his irritation. “They’ll just have to wait, Toni. This evening is not about you.”

  “Well, it should be.”

  Of course, that’s what she would think. Toni Allistair had always put herself first. She was a super model with bogus claims of Polynesian royalty in her family tree. Additionally, she was considered the reigning matriarch of the Allistair family. A term she hated.

  In fact, she hated everything about the family except its founder…and his money. Even if Stephen’s father hadn’t had health issues, Toni would never have stayed in the marriage. She’d been only too happy to leave her husband in the hands of medical professionals and leave Stephen to be raised by his grandfather.