by Brenda Novak
“Looks like you had a fun childhood.”
The wistfulness in her voice made Serenity feel slightly ungrateful for not appreciating—or appreciating enough—how good she’d always had it. Did it really matter whether she’d been adopted without ever being told? She’d been loved, hadn’t she?
She’d never doubted that. And her parents had provided everything she needed and then some. She’d certainly had a lot better life than Lorelei—
“Serenity?”
Lorelei had said something Serenity had missed. “What?”
“Do you still have the boat?”
“Not that one, but we have another one. Sean and I used to take it out all the time.”
“Do you ever take it out by yourself now that Sean’s...um...out of the picture?”
“No, I haven’t yet. The trial was still going on last summer, and I didn’t feel like boating on my own. When I go down to the lake, I usually kayak.”
“I’ve never been kayaking. Is it fun?”
“I love it. At sunrise or sunset it’s a little cooler than at midday, of course, but it’s so calm and peaceful.” She’d spent hours and hours paddling through the glassy water, with the call of the California Gulls filling her ears—and had done a lot of thinking while gazing at the mountains rising majestically around her.
“Is it something we could do with Lucy while we’re here?” Lorelei asked.
“If it warms up enough by the end of the week, maybe. Does she know how to swim?”
“She does. There are so many pools in Florida, I started her in swimming lessons when she was two.”
“Still, we’ll put her in a life vest. We have all sizes down in the garage.”
“You do?” she said in surprise.
“My parents were hoping for grandkids, so they never got rid of the ones we had when we were little.”
“Why didn’t you and Sean have any children?” she asked. “You were married for what...ten years?”
“Eight.”
“That’s certainly long enough to begin a family.”
“We decided to wait until we’d established our careers.”
“You said he was an accountant?”
“Yes.”
“Mom, I’m ready.”
They both turned to see Lucy wearing her coat and boots, although the coat was buttoned unevenly and the boots were on the wrong feet.
Serenity laughed at the sight. “Here, let me help you, sweetheart,” she said and fixed Lucy’s coat before squatting down to switch her boots to the right feet.
“Are you going outside to play with us?” Lucy asked.
“I have to do a few things first. But then I’ll join you. It might be chilly. Is that okay?”
“My mom says I can build a snowman.”
Serenity straightened. “Well, if you’re going to build a snowman, you’re going to need a carrot.”
“A carrot?” she echoed.
“Of course. Your snowman’s got to have a nose, doesn’t he?”
She considered that for a moment before nodding decisively—yes, Mr. Snowman would need a nose.
“And what are you going to use for his eyes?”
“I don’t know,” she said, her mouth dropping open as though she’d suddenly been made aware of a serious problem.
“Come on.” Serenity held out her hand. “I bet we can find something in the kitchen that’ll work.”
As Lucy’s small fingers curled through hers, Serenity felt lucky for the first time since learning about Lorelei and Reagan. She’d been angry at the thought of being deceived, frightened at what she might discover, curious to know the truth, worried about how this might affect her life and a bit shell-shocked to have something like this happen on the heels of her ex-husband’s trial. That was a lot of emotion to deal with—all of it negative.
But in this one moment, as she led her niece in to find some accoutrements for a snowman, she felt a touch of gratitude simply for having more people to love.
* * *
lorelei
Lorelei tried not to bite her nails. Usually, she purchased acrylics to prevent what she was doing now. When she was young, she wouldn’t quit until she’d made her fingers bleed, and since she’d been too busy to get a manicure before coming to Tahoe—too upset to go out or spend the money on something that had suddenly become a very low priority—she found herself reverting to her old habits.
“You okay?”
Serenity’s voice was soft and reassuring. Lorelei wanted to respond to her kindness, but trust didn’t come easily for her. There’d been a lot of people in her life who’d seemed reliable—but weren’t. Mark and Francine were just the latest.
Folding her hands in her lap, Lorelei nodded. After running around in the snow for two hours, and having a sandwich and some celery and carrot sticks for lunch, Lucy was asleep upstairs. Reagan and Serenity sat at the kitchen table across from her, each with a pile of photographs from when they were children, along with various other scrapbook items.
Lorelei had nothing, of course. Which was why she felt this meeting was more important to her than either of them. She was hoping to finally forge a connection with her past. That need had dimmed slightly after she’d married Mark. She’d been able to bury it for a while, give it less thought and attention.
Lucy’s birth and the love and devotion she lavished on her child helped, too.
But now, with her trust in her husband destroyed and the future uncertain, she felt as though she was tumbling down the long hill she’d so painstakingly climbed since meeting him—or, more accurately, that he’d pushed her down it.
She could’ve brought a few pictures from when she was older, of course. Birthday cards she’d received from friends. School pictures her foster parents had kept for her. A teddy bear—worn out because it had stuck with her longer than any human. Some early examples of her schoolwork. A nice note from a teacher.
Some years were spottier than others as far as these types of items were concerned, depending on what had been happening with her housing situation at the time. Even when she was old enough to save things herself, they often got lost in the shuffle. She had nothing that could shed any light on where she was born, or to whom, so there hadn’t been anything to bring.
“Before we go through this stuff, why don’t we each share our earliest memories?” Serenity said. “Where we thought we were when various events took place, who we were with, whether those people stayed in our lives... I’ve found in researching the cases I write about, sometimes it’s the most innocuous detail that leads to something bigger and more revealing.”
Reagan rubbed her face. “Okay. Do you want to go first?”
“Yeah, let’s start with you,” Lorelei chimed in, looking at Serenity. As fragile as she felt, she didn’t want to go first. Talking about her childhood could be difficult even when she was in a better state of mind.
Serenity spread out the items she had with her. “I admit I don’t have much to complain about. I had a wonderful childhood. So good, in fact, that I couldn’t help thinking there must be some mistake with...with what we’ve learned. I didn’t tell you both this, but I was so convinced this had to be the result of a false positive or whatever, I had my DNA retested.”
Reagan crossed one long leg over the other. Although she was casually dressed in sweats, she appeared to be taking a professional approach to this. Lorelei couldn’t see her acting any differently if they were all sitting around a conference table wearing skirts and heels. “And?”
“The results were right to begin with.” Serenity glanced at Lorelei before quickly continuing, “But so you know, I didn’t double-check because I don’t want you both as my sisters. It’s just that everything I’ve ever believed about the rest of my family has broken down, and depending on how this happened, I’m afraid of what it’ll do to
them. I don’t want to push people—loved ones—who are otherwise happy, off an emotional cliff.” She paused. “Reconstructing our history, our relationships, won’t be easy.”
Reagan stared into her wineglass as she swirled the liquid inside it. “You’re assuming they’ll react negatively.”
“Isn’t that why you haven’t told your mother?”
“Yes, but your family seems much better adjusted than mine. My mother is all I’ve got. If she reacts negatively, there’s no one left.”
Then maybe you’ll know how I feel, Lorelei almost said but managed to bite it back.
Serenity toyed with a picture of the siblings she’d been raised with. “I tried to subtly suggest to my brother and sisters that they get their DNA tested—told them I’d done mine to see how it all worked for my writing—but none of them seemed particularly interested. They’re content with their lives. I was, too—before Sean, of course. I didn’t want to raise suspicion or risk having them mention anything about DNA to our parents, so I didn’t push, but I may try again later.”
Despite all the tension Lorelei was feeling, she was distracted by Serenity’s mention of her ex-husband. What, exactly, had Sean done? Serenity had been so tight-lipped about him. “Your parents don’t know that you had your DNA tested?”
“No, but I would’ve mentioned the results if they hadn’t been so...unexpected. It’s interesting that I have 3 percent Neanderthal DNA, for example. My dad would get a kick out of that. He’s always been interested in evolution, watches all kinds of documentaries about early hominid species before Homo sapiens. But when I received the notice that I had a close living relative I knew nothing about, it spun me in a completely different direction. Then Lorelei reached out on Facebook and the rest is history.”
“Do you think you’re related to your siblings?” Reagan asked. “Do you think we are?”
“I don’t think you are,” Serenity said. “You don’t look anything like them.”
Lorelei’s mind went to the pictures she’d studied so closely on the living room wall. She doubted Serenity would want to hear it, but she didn’t see a lot of resemblance between her and her siblings, or even between her and her parents. “Judging from the ones on the wall—”
“Wait.” Serenity pulled some more pictures of herself, her brother and her twin sisters at various ages from a box at her feet and put them on top of those already on the table. “Here are some more.”
Lorelei picked up a photograph of the twins at about ten years old. They had lighter hair and darker eyes. And they were more petite, didn’t have the same tall, lanky build that Serenity had in common with her and Reagan. “The younger three resemble each other more than any of them resembles you.”
Reagan considered a photograph of Beau before setting it aside to examine a picture of Serenity’s parents. “Yeah, I guess I’d have to agree with Lorelei. Your coloring is different.”
“But I still look like them, don’t I?” A defensive note had crept into Serenity’s voice.
Reagan continued to sift through pictures. “A little,” she allowed. “How old were you when your mother had the twins?”
“She was seven.”
It was Lorelei who answered, but Reagan kept her focus on Serenity. “For twins to follow such a long gap suggests your parents might’ve been undergoing some sort of fertility treatment. Do you remember them talking about anything like that?”
“No. But I’m not sure I would’ve picked up on it. Do seven-year-olds understand what fertility means? I just remember how excited I was when my mother told me I was going to be a big sister. I’d asked Santa Claus for a baby sister for two years in a row, so I thought he was finally answering my request.” She chuckled as she shook her head, obviously lost in the memory. “You can imagine how grateful I was when I learned I was getting two sisters and not just one. I thought he was making up for being late.”
Resentment hit Lorelei like a sledgehammer. She’d begged Santa for a mother—something she never got. She’d never been given many presents, either, but she wasn’t upset about that. She was grateful for the few she had received. No one was technically obligated to provide her with a Christmas.
“How many more years was it before Beau came along?” Reagan asked.
Lorelei could’ve answered that question, too, but she didn’t. She was still grappling with the way Serenity’s story was making her feel.
“Four.”
“So you would’ve been eleven,” Reagan mused. “Old enough to understand a bit more.”
“I guess, but, again, I only remember being excited. Especially when the ultrasound revealed it was a boy.” Serenity pulled back her hair, twisted it into a knot at her nape and then let it fall free again. “I had my two sisters—I was eager for a little brother.”
“And of course you got him,” Lorelei piped up. “You got everything you wanted.”
Reagan and Serenity stared at her in surprise. “What are you talking about?” Reagan asked.
A warning light started to flash in Lorelei’s head. She needed to reel in her emotions. She didn’t lose her composure very often, and when she did, she almost always regretted it. But she didn’t seem to have any reserves to draw from. This conversation was churning up too many hurtful memories. “I guess it’s hard for me to feel a lot of sympathy for Serenity when I would’ve given anything to have it even half as good.”
Serenity rocked back as though she’d been slapped. To her, this had to be coming out of nowhere. But it was Reagan who rallied first.
“She hasn’t had a perfect life, Lorelei. Her husband just went to prison, for God’s sake. Not only did Serenity have to turn him in, she had to testify against him.”
There was an edge to Reagan’s voice, telling her that she needed to stop, but that only pushed Lorelei further down the path she was already on. “So?” she cried. “At least she was an adult when she went through that. At least she had her family to offer support. She also had a viable career to fall back on.”
Lorelei hated the things she was saying, and she hated herself for saying them. Serenity had done nothing to deserve this. But once she started to speak, the harsh words seemed to come out almost involuntarily. “And he only got five years,” she couldn’t keep herself from continuing. “Which means he couldn’t have done anything too terrible. With good behavior, he’ll be out in two. She’s said so herself.”
Serenity’s face had grown mottled and her lips were tightly compressed. “He deserves a lot more than he got.”
“Why? Because he dared to disrupt your beautiful life?”
The chair squealed against the floor as Serenity shoved away from the table and stood. “Disrupt it?”
Reagan tried, once again, to intervene, but Serenity didn’t so much as look at her and neither did Lorelei.
“Yes! God knows you wouldn’t have expected a shocker like marrying a crook,” Lorelei said. “What’d he do? Embezzle from the firm where he worked? And did that humiliate and embarrass you?” She’d tried to look it up online but hadn’t been able to find anything. The fact that it wasn’t even reported in the news supported what she was saying.
“What he did is none of our business.” Reagan stood, too, spreading her hands out as if that might stop the argument. She was still trying to act as mediator, but no one was listening to her anymore. Serenity had been pushed too far. Lorelei could see the anger sparking in her eyes, but wasn’t willing to back down or apologize. She wanted to fight and fight hard—with Serenity, with anyone.
“He was involved in a child pornography ring, okay?” Serenity snapped. “Are you happy now? He was buying and selling pictures of innocent little boys and girls being defiled, which I can only assume must have excited him. Those are the kinds of pictures I found on his computer—the kind that make you want to vomit and then cut off his junk with a dull pair of scissors!” With that, she
stomped out of the kitchen and up the stairs, and a few seconds later the whole cabin reverberated with the force she put behind slamming her bedroom door.
Lorelei sat in stunned silence. Serenity’s husband was a pedophile? Just thinking of anyone owning kiddie porn made her shudder with revulsion.
“What’s wrong with you?” Reagan whispered, her eyebrows knitted as though she was mortified—and she probably was.
The threat of tears suddenly made it impossible to speak.
“Lorelei?”
Oh, God. What had she done? “I don’t know,” she admitted, managing to force a few words past the tightness in her throat. “I—” She swallowed hard. “These days my emotions are all over the place. One minute I’m angry and looking for a target, the next I’m crying and feeling sorry for myself.” She squeezed her eyes closed. “I can’t seem to function normally.”
Lorelei expected Reagan to stomp off the way Serenity had. After this episode, and the problem she’d had with Reagan in the car yesterday, she expected them both to decide she was too insufferable to have around and ask her to leave.
Maybe she was even inviting them to do that—forcing them to reject her now so they couldn’t reject her later, after she’d begun to care.
She was so sure that was what would happen next she was already thinking of where she and Lucy might stay in Reno until their plane left on Friday—and how she’d pay for the unexpected expense—when Reagan reached across the table to squeeze her arm. “It’s okay,” she said.
Lorelei opened her eyes. “What?”
“It’s going to be okay. None of us are perfect. We all have some pretty crappy problems right now. We’ll get through this.”
“But Serenity did nothing to deserve that or...or provoke it.”
“I know. Still, it couldn’t have been easy for you, sitting there while she went through all that memorabilia and talked about the kind of childhood you wish you could’ve had.”
“That’s no excuse.” She refused to let herself off that easily, but Reagan kept talking.
“You must’ve been feeling left out and...and unlucky and who knows what else, especially now that you’ve lost your faith in Mark. But remember what we’re trying to achieve.” She sat back down and leaned forward, her expression earnest. “If only we can figure out how we’re related, you might be able to find your real parents—or at least learn something about them and the circumstances of your birth. You want that, don’t you?”
