Above The Surface

by Akeroyd, Serena

  My throat felt thick. God, if it messed with my heart to hear Papa’s name, then Nanny’s?

  Tears stung my eyes, burning so fierce that for a second, I had no choice but to raise my hands and cover my face.

  We were emotional people, unashamed of tears, whether they were of laughter or joy—I remembered that much about my community, even if I’d been barred from it—but I hadn’t been raised Romany. I’d been raised to shield my emotions. Still, there was no way I could control these tears, no way at all.

  A tutting sound reached out and embraced me. “She took too much of others into her to live long. But I know she wouldn’t have wanted to leave you, child.” She cleared her throat. “You’re Theodosia, aren’t you?”

  That she remembered my name had me controlling myself just so I could stare at her in awe. “Your memory, ma’am, is astonishing.”

  Her lips curved, and she rustled the skirt of her dress like she was more pleased with that compliment than being told she looked beautiful—which she did. Even if she looked frail. “You can call me Lavinia,” she announced.

  “I can?”

  “Your grandmother and I were great friends.”

  My knees almost dropped out from under me at that. Talk about good fortune!

  “I can’t believe it,” I whispered earnestly. “I came here on the off chance that someone might remember my family.”

  “You don’t often forget a scandal like that, but I’d never forget Allegria. She was my best friend from a little girl. Sorrowful I am to hear that she’s passed. I missed her every day she was gone—”

  “Why didn’t you stay in touch?” I queried, because we were loyal too. It was bred into us to stick together, so that meant there was a reason, and I wanted to know what it was.

  “She wouldn’t have it. Insisted on a fresh break for you.” She blew out a shaky breath. “I won’t lie, it hurt, but I understood. Still do. You were so young, too young to be dealing with that kind of burden.” Her lips pursed once more, and she grunted. “Times like these, I wish I was still allowed to smoke.”

  “Why aren’t you allowed?” I asked, a little surprised by the wording.

  “Not long left in the lungs,” she admitted gruffly, tapping her chest. “You’re lucky you came when you did. Might not be around much longer.” She narrowed her eyes. “Now, come and take a seat. You’re here for a reason.”

  I didn’t know her, but the prospect of losing another connection to my past made me want to cry again.

  Fuck, I hated being a baby, but sometimes, shit was just too damn much.

  I’d been cut some slack by meeting with Lavinia and it being so easy to reconnect, but really? I wouldn’t be allowed to get friendly with her? To learn more about her and my nanny’s friendship?

  Before bitterness could swirl inside me, Lavinia reached over to a stool and patted the seat. “Come now. You can take some tea with me.” She twisted a little in her seat, and called out, “Allegria! Come here a second.”

  I blinked, then understood when a woman in her forties appeared. She looked a lot like Lavinia, only she was a lot more harassed. Her brow was furrowed, her cheeks pink, and she had sweat beading off her.

  “What?” she grouched, lifting her arm to wipe her forehead on it. She wore yellow gloves that were covered in suds. The second her eyes connected with me, she sighed. “You didn’t tell me we had company coming over.”

  “Didn’t know we’d be having any,” Lavinia admitted.

  “I’ll bring tea.” Allegria turned on her heel and was back through the door before she even really bothered to greet me. The offer of tea, without even asking me if I wanted any, made me smile though, as did her name.

  “You named her after my grandmother?”

  Lavinia hitched a bony shoulder. “Told you, Leggy was my best friend.”

  My eyes widened. “You called her Leggy?”

  Lavinia grinned. “She called me Vinnie.” The words were half boasted. “Hers was true though. She had the best legs.” She let out a whistle. “Not that anyone was allowed to see them.” Lavinia rolled her eyes. “Funny how things seem so important at the time. Modesty and purity. Such nonsense. Just don’t tell Allegria that. She’s having trouble with my granddaughter at the moment.”

  As I padded over and took the seat that I twisted around so I could be nearer to her, I questioned, “What kind of trouble?”

  “She’s a little older than you and is refusing to get married.” Lavinia sighed. “Such a bossy girl, but that’s not a surprise considering Allegria spawned her. I gave her too much freedom when she was young. As for Chastity, she doesn’t want to live up to her name and wants to go off to college.” Lavinia wrinkled her nose. “I like the idea of it, but her pa wants her to get married. Trouble is, if we don’t adhere to the old ways, then we lose them for good.

  “I understand the dilemma, but if I was born in this day and age, I wouldn’t want to stay stuck at home being a good wife either. I did that once, and that was one time too many.” She huffed. “Leggy was lucky. Your grandfather perished quickly, lived long enough to get her with child, then he did her a service and died.”

  My eyes flared wide at that candor. Whatever the hell I’d expected her to say, it wasn’t that. “I thought she’d have to remarry,” I mused hesitantly, not really making it a question but still wanting her to clarify.

  Lavinia tapped her nose. “Had a good job, did Jimmy. Died at work, had a good insurance policy. Meant she could raise Genny in peace. Sure, there was chatter, but ain’t there always? She had a lot of interest, men wanting those legs of hers and that nice stockpile she had resting in the bank, but nope, Leggy refused.”

  “What do you mean? Raise her in peace?”

  “Without a man to get underfoot, of course.” She huffed again. “Men are nothing but walking heartbreaks, girl. Best you don’t forget that.” I pulled a face that had her reaching over and patting my hand. “I can see you already learned that lesson.” She sucked her teeth and made a smacking noise. “Did you break your chastity for him?”

  The personal question took me aback, but also, it didn’t surprise me. Nanny had been beyond forthright, so it would make sense that her best friend was too.

  “No, I didn’t,” I admitted, but there was no pride in my voice.

  Could I say that if we’d had the opportunity, I wouldn’t have taken Adam up on it?

  Only being able to see him in the mornings at the pool before school had been a better chaperone than a gaggle of Gypsy mothers watching over us, clucking in disapproval.

  “Meaning you wish you had?”

  My lips almost curved at her shrewdness. “Maybe.”

  “What did he do?”

  “Married someone else.”

  “Marry?” Her brows rose. “He’s one of us?”

  “No.”

  “Is he your age?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s young to get married for a Gadže.” She pursed her lips again—I was beginning to see why she had a hundred or so wrinkles about her mouth—before demanding, “Why didn’t he marry you?”

  “I-I don’t know. We were going to—” And I knew that without even questioning it, our path had been written in the stars long before we’d met. “But something happened.” I sucked in a breath. “I-I don’t want to talk about it.”

  Of course, she promptly ignored that. “How long ago did he get married?”

  “Two years ago,” I whispered, the pain as raw as if it were yesterday.

  “Two years, and you’re still in pain?” She shook her head. “Leggy mourned her love, even if I didn’t understand it. We all have our little talents, gifts that unite us to the motherland. Mine weren’t as advanced as Leggy’s. I knew about her healing, knew she could see things about a person just by looking at them. I also knew that her biggest gift and the worst curse was that she knew who her soulmate was.”

  My eyes flashed at that, interest clawing at me. “Knew him?”

  La
vinia dipped her chin. “Yes. Knew. They didn’t marry. He was already married. I thought for a while that your mother, Genny, was his child, but she wasn’t. Maybe if she’d been, things would have ended kinder for her.”

  “She found her one,” I said miserably. “I just don’t understand how she could leave me behind.”

  Lavinia tipped her head to the side as she stared at me. “Left you behind, child? What do you mean? Of course she did.”

  My eyes flared wide. “Why do you say it like that? ‘Of course?’ There’s no ‘of course’ about it.”

  Lavinia shook her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “Me either,” I retorted waspishly.

  Before I could let out some frustration, Allegria appeared with a tray loaded down with sandwiches and other home-baked treats. Quickly, I plucked the empty tray that sat between me and Lavinia and held it in my hands as her daughter placed it down before she snatched away the one in my grasp.

  “Allegria isn’t one for talking,” Lavinia murmured as her daughter disappeared. “Takes after her boring father.”

  My brows rose at that, and I tried not to laugh, but Lavinia caught the smile in my eyes.

  “There’s a curious freedom in dying, child. All of a sudden, you can say what you want, do what you want. People forgive you your verbal sins.”

  Curiosity had me asking, “Would you have talked to me if you weren’t dying?”

  She tilted her head to the side. “Because of your momma’s sins?” I nodded. “Maybe not. Maybe I would, though, because I miss Leggy something fierce. Not knowing if she was alive or dead was a special kind of cruelty. Now, at least, I know she’ll be there waiting on me when I pass.”

  My throat grew thick with emotion at her words, but I managed to mutter, “Would you like me to pour?”

  “Please, child. Allegria must think you look hungry. She knows not to bring out that much food for me now. I don’t have the appetite I did when I was younger.” There was no self-pity on her face, if anything, it felt like she’d accepted her fate. “Eat away, child. It’ll all go to waste otherwise.”

  My eyes widened at the blasé comment and quickly, I stared at the tray. Even though the Ramsdens, and before them the Majors, had always fed me well, between Nanny dying and the Majors? I knew what it was to be hungry.

  I hated waste.

  Loathed it.

  The wooden tray was packed, but because the topic was emotional, I wasn’t exactly hungry.

  I’d come here straight after the meet, needing to fit in this visit before we headed back home early in the morning.

  A few of the team were going out for a meal before settling down at our hotel—the intention was to set off at four AM to get to the airport for our ridiculously early flight.

  But, to be fair, the food in front of me looked better than anything a restaurant might serve.

  The standard tray was packed with delights. A white china teapot dotted with red flowers matched two teacups that were tilted on their sides on saucers. There were other matching plates that housed thick crusted sandwiches that Nanny had served me when I was a kid.

  How had I only just remembered that I loved egg salad with cress?

  There were three slices of different cake, and a ball of something that had me eying it with suspicion.

  Lavinia clucked her tongue. “Long time since you’ve eaten the good stuff if you don’t recognize a Scotch Egg.” She smirked at me. “That’s Leggy’s recipe. Passed it to me, she did,” she continued proudly. “Then I gave it to my girl, because I wanted her to cook it for me.” She raised her hands, and I saw they were misshaped. “The arthritis stopped my baking, but Allegria, though she’s a bore, is a good girl, and although I’m being mean, I wouldn’t be without her.”

  “How do you take your tea?” I inquired huskily, wishing that things had been different for my family where Nanny could have had both her girls with her until the end.

  “Two sugars. That’s probably why there’s no milk. If you want some, I can holler for Allegria—”

  “No, it’s fine. Thank you.” I set about serving us, then when I passed her the cup and saucer, knowing she’d want both, I eyed her gnarled hands and delicate china warily. When I saw she was okay, I served myself some of the cake, deciding today merited dessert first.

  As I forked some up, I moaned at the rich flavor of carrot cake. “Wow, this is gorgeous.”

  Lavinia looked smug. “She gets that from me. Spent half my life with a weight problem because of it.” She rolled her eyes. “The irony is, of course, that I’d have killed to be this skinny when I was younger.” She wagged her finger at me. “There’s a lesson there, child. I’m not sure what it is, but take from it what you will.”

  I snorted. “I’ll think on it.”

  “Do.” Lavinia perused me again, then she asked, “Why’s your hair wet?”

  “I just came from—well, I swim.”

  “You swim,” she echoed flatly. “You live around here?”

  I shook my head. “No. I live near Boston.”

  That had her arching a brow. “Interesting.”

  “Why?”

  “She said she’d never visit her, but she moved to be close.”

  “Close to her?” I repeated. “Close to who?”

  “Why, your mother, child. Who else? That was where she was the last time I heard, anyway.”

  I paused, and the hand holding the fork dropped to my lap. “Momma’s buried near Boston? How did I never know that?”

  Lavinia shook her head. “No, child. That’s where your momma was imprisoned. She isn’t dead. Least, not as far as I know.”

  My mouth worked for a handful of seconds, but I didn’t know what I was trying to say.

  God, I didn’t know what I was even thinking, never mind trying to communicate.

  “She didn’t tell you?”

  I stared at her a little blankly. “No. She didn’t.”

  Lavinia pulled a face. “Well, horseshit.”

  My eyes flared. “Horseshit?”

  “Yes. Horseshit. Leggy didn’t tell you for a reason, and I’ve just gone and blown it with my big mouth.”

  “She should have told me. I had a right to know! I came here wondering if I was weak like her, wanting to know if I—”

  “If you what?” she prompted when I broke off. Her brow furrowed. “What did Leggy actually tell you?”

  “That she killed herself because Papa died in an accident.”

  Lavinia snorted, but her hand came out. The gnarled fingers grabbed mine, and she twisted our digits together. “Child, I don’t pretend to understand why your grandmother did what she did. I didn’t understand why she took herself so far away. The next town over would have been far enough to ride out the gossip, but she was insistent. She wanted a fresh break for both of you.

  “She, for whatever reason, decided it was best you didn’t know the truth, but here you are, and when I got my diagnosis, child, I made myself a promise.”

  “What promise was that?” I whispered, wondering what one had to do with the other.

  “All these years, I’ve been a good girl. Even after I lost my best friend, I did what I was told by my husband. I raised my children, did good by them, did good by my people and the community, and what do I get? Something eating away at me like I was already in the ground.

  “I thought to myself, when the doctor told me—”

  “The doctor? You went to a doctor?” Our people were suspicious of nurses and doctors. It was why Nanny going to the doctor had been such a big deal when I was a kid. This went deeper than a phobia. It was a cultural distaste for the medical profession.

  Lavinia pulled a face. “I didn’t want to, but the pain was that bad. Maybe if we weren’t so scared of doctors, I’d have been all right. But it was too late. By the time I went in, things had progressed too far, and to be honest, child, I don’t have the money for the care I need anyway. The community has a kind of insurance, we had to when Obamacare came in
—the fines were ridiculous for people like us—but the copay on my treatment—”

  “Surely there’s a charity?”

  She sniffed. “Charity begins at home.” She wagged her fingers. “Lavinia Byrne gives to charity, she doesn’t take from it.”

  There was no debating that kind of logic, so instead, and with the vain hope that it would keep her on track—my mother wasn’t fucking dead. What the actual fuck?—I asked, “What was your promise, Lavinia?”

  “All these years, things ate at me like this fool disease is. I bit my tongue so many times it was a wonder I didn’t cut through it. I stayed quiet every time my husband went off and saw that floozy Kaitlyn Bellamy, and I’m telling you, they didn’t go and pick strawberries, child.” Her lips pursed again. “I stayed silent when I found out Allegria’s man was whipping her—” A rough exhalation escaped her before she started coughing. Out of nowhere, a handkerchief appeared, and within seconds, it was dotted with blood. She ignored it as she dabbed at the corners of her mouth, before rasping, “I was a good woman. A good Romanichal. But there’s a freedom in death, child, remember I told you that?” At my nod, she dipped her chin, and a resolve was pasted on her features that put me on edge. “Well, I promised myself that I’d say whatever I wanted from that moment on. Whether it hurt people, whether it revealed secrets that should be kept hidden, I told myself no more. No. More.

  “So, while your grandmother thought she was acting in your best interest, that goes against my promise to myself. Now, when we’re in heaven, she can slap me in the face if she wishes, but I’ll deal with that once I’ve met my maker.” Another sharp breath gusted from her. “Child, Nicodemus was many things, and abusive was one of them. Whenever Genny came back from one of their trips, she was battered to buggery. Your grandmother’s heart broke every time she saw her, but what could we do? We’re taught to turn the other cheek. Literally. Even if that means we give the bastards something to aim at.” She sucked in a breath. “They’re not all like that. I made sure my sons wouldn’t lay a hand on their wives, because I’d have stabbed them myself if they did. But that came at a cost of being beaten by my own husband.