by Teri Terry
“Do I? I feel like in a lot of ways, I never really knew her, and now it’s too late. I never will.”
“Oh, Petal.”
“Even just simple things like where she came from, where she lived, who her family were. Her family are my family, too. Now that she’s gone, I’d like to find them. But whenever I asked her about them, she wouldn’t tell me anything.”
“I can’t help you much there. She was estranged from her family; I never met any of them.”
“Well, you must know where she was from, at least!”
He shakes his head. “Honestly, I don’t. I used to ask her now and then, but she would never answer, and somewhere along the way, I decided it wasn’t important.”
“Do you know why they were estranged?”
“Not the details. But it was something like Isobel not wanting to go into the family business, or do something that her mother wanted her to.”
“Sounds like a lame reason to never see each other again.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Perhaps Isobel knew what she was doing, and you’d be better off keeping well away from them.”
I cross my arms. “Maybe I’m the one who should make that decision. You can’t protect me from everything, any more than you could have stopped me from riding that bicycle.”
“True.” He takes another sip of wine. “I never fully agreed with your mother about keeping things from you. As I said, that was how she wanted it. But now that she’s gone . . .”
“There’s something you can tell me, isn’t there?” I will him to keep going. “Please tell me, Dad. Anything you can about her. Tell me where you met, for a start.”
“All right. Isobel was working at a hotel when I met her. I was there on a walking holiday with a few friends. She was so beautiful then, not that she wasn’t still.” His eyes are wistful. “She lit up the room. And I wasn’t exactly a ladies’ man.”
“No, really?”
He mock-glares. “Don’t be cheeky. But anyhow, there was something about her—and, as hard as it is to imagine, she seemed to like me. Singled me out. She told me we knew each other. I had trouble believing it at first. I mean, she was gorgeous and fun, and there I was—years older, this stuffy lawyer who barely remembered how to laugh. She reminded me.”
“And?”
“I guess you could say it was a holiday romance, but it was more than that to me. I went home believing I’d never see her again, and that was the way it should be, but I couldn’t stop thinking about her. I called back at the hotel, but they said she wasn’t working there anymore, and they didn’t know where she’d gone.”
“What hotel was it?”
He frowns. “I can’t believe I can’t bring the name to mind. The sign—it had a two on it. Two something. Two Rivers? Something like that, but that isn’t quite right.”
“Where was it?”
“Dartmoor.”
“So how did you find her?”
“I didn’t. She found me. She knocked on my door about ten months later, with you in her arms.”
My mouth hangs open. This, I wasn’t expecting. “Get out. You mean you weren’t even together when I was born?” That explains how he doesn’t know about Quinn. Mum had twins, but brought only one to him; Quinn she left behind. Why?
“No. She said she thought she could do it on her own, but she couldn’t. That the price she’d have to pay to stay with her family was too high. And that you were mine.”
“And you just believed her?”
He looks askance. “Of course I did. How could I not? And the timing was right.”
“You did wonder, then, if you were counting up the months.”
“No. It was my brother and my partner questioning things—looking out for me. Once they met her, they loved her too. She had that effect on everyone around her.”
“But why didn’t you ever get married?”
“Oh, I asked her again and again. She didn’t want to, for reasons I never fully understood.”
“But you were always known as Mr. and Mrs. Hughes. You both even wore rings!”
“We went on a holiday, and when we came back, we told everyone we’d eloped.”
“Let me see if I’ve got this straight: my parents weren’t married, and they lied to everybody about it. Is Hughes even my real name?”
He shakes his head. “No. Your legal name is the same as your mother’s. I wasn’t there when you were born; she didn’t name a father on your birth certificate.”
“So what is my name, then?”
“Does it matter right now?”
“It does to me. It’s mine.” And I’m willing him to tell me, tell me the name. If I have to confront him with what I saw on the death certificate, he’ll know I’ve been looking through things in his office.
He drains his glass, fills it again. “Your name is Blackwood.”
“Piper Blackwood.” I say it out loud for the first time, testing it, tasting it, seeing how it feels on my tongue. “I still don’t understand why she didn’t want to get married but wanted to pretend that you were. I mean, no one would have really cared that you didn’t tie the knot. Except maybe your aunts.”
“I used to think she didn’t want to get married because she’d just disappear one day. Of course she never did, so it wasn’t that.”
“Unless she meant to, but changed her mind.”
“That did occur to me. Your mother could be a devious creature at times. Which worries me, as you are starting to be more and more like her.”
“I’ll devious you! But was there ever any hint as to why she wouldn’t get married?”
He hesitates. “Well, there was this one time, she said something about an inheritance.”
I look back at him and just manage to stop myself from saying, Aha! I knew it. I knew there was something; it was hidden in the things Mum wouldn’t say. “An inheritance? Do you know what it is?” I try and fail to make my voice sound casual.
“I don’t know. There was something in her family that could only be inherited by a Blackwood. But I don’t know what or where it is. I also think using my name was a way of distancing herself from her family. Or maybe making it harder for them to find her.”
“But if she never meant to go back, why would she care whether or not I could inherit something? I wonder what it could be.”
“I can’t imagine it’d be anything more than what you’ll inherit from me one day. Don’t go looking for problems.”
“Hmm. Can I even inherit from you, as I’m not actually Piper Hughes?”
“Oh, that doesn’t matter. When you were very little, we did some legal paperwork to make sure. You’re all legally adopted.”
“But how can you adopt me if I’m yours anyway?”
“You are my daughter. There is not a shred of doubt on that score,” he says, and I can tell he means it, but I’m not so sure. “But as I wasn’t on your birth certificate, it was just to make sure things were all legal and proper—it’s the lawyer in me, couldn’t stop myself. I would have changed your name legally to Hughes at the same time, but Isobel didn’t want it that way.”
“So let me check I’ve got things straight now. Isobel Blackwood worked in a hotel, had a holiday fling with you, and appeared ten months later with me in her arms and said I was yours. And wouldn’t marry you but pretended she had, getting you to live a lie to everyone you knew. And all to leave the name Blackwood attached to me for some possible inheritance, but you don’t know what or where it is. Is that about it?”
“Piper, you make it all sound so crazy. It wasn’t like that. Your mother was the best thing that ever happened to me. I adored her. When she walked into a room, it lit up; when she left, darkness fell. Where she came from, why she didn’t want to talk about it, never mattered to me. And I’ve always loved you.” He reaches out a hand and touches my cheek.
“I know, Dad.”
“But how can I live without her? The sun has gone down, and it won’t come up again.” He leans back on
the sofa, eyes closed, the almost empty wine bottle next to him. A tear squeezes out from behind a closed eyelid and trickles down his face.
I can’t move, can’t speak. I’m so angry at all the secrets Mum kept from me—furious to my core. Dad did it too, but I know why. He was completely under her spell. He had no choice.
I’m also excited—whirling with it all, inside. An inheritance. From a family like Mum’s, like mine, the possibilities of what it could be? Well.
Mum turned her back on who she was, but that was her choice, not mine. She wouldn’t tell me about her family, or where they were. The little she did say was warnings to keep away from them. Yet she made sure I stayed a Blackwood. Why would she do this, unless she knew I’d be drawn to find them? Or maybe this shows they were still linked somehow. I know she visited Quinn now and then—did she visit other family, too? Perhaps they weren’t so estranged, after all.
I have to find out what this inheritance is. I have to.
And there is one person who can help: Quinn. She was raised by our grandmother. She must know.
Quinn Blackwood, somehow I will make you tell me.
Dad stirs, reaches for his wineglass.
I intercept his hand and hold it. “Dad, listen to me. You will be all right. You’ll be sad, but a little less every day, and you’ll be all right. And that’s enough wine for tonight.”
He nods, his eyes searching mine. “You’re so like Isobel. When she said something, just that way, I always knew it was true.”
Half true, at least. Because that is the secret, isn’t it? I’d observed it with Mum and experienced it myself. Say a half truth, say it strongly enough, and they will believe.
Quinn
“Hello, beautiful!” This must be Zak’s friend Giles, the restaurateur. He’s pretty beautiful himself—blond and blue-eyed, almost as tall as Zak but otherwise kind of the opposite.
He rushes over, bends to kiss my cheek, and it’s not an air kiss—warm lips linger on skin. Luckily Zak had warned me this would happen, so it doesn’t freak me out. Much. I can still feel heat climbing my neck to my face, and bend to fuss Ness so he doesn’t notice.
“Take your usual table,” Giles says. “Zak, can we have a quick word about scheduling?” And he draws him toward a door at the back.
Our usual table? Zak doesn’t turn, but points with his hand to one in the corner by the window. It’s early for dinner, and the place is almost empty—just a few people with coffees here and there. There’s a bored-looking waitress, a woman polishing glasses at the bar. She waves when she sees me looking, so I wave back. She bends behind the bar, and then walks over with a bowl of water in her hand. She gives it to Ness, who laps at it eagerly.
“Thank you,” I say, with no idea who she is. I glance at the door at the back. Come on, Zak.
She sits in the chair opposite me. “Sweetie, how was the funeral?”
“Uh, fine.” I mean what are you supposed to say to that sort of question? It was great? Anyhow, most of it passed me by as I stared at the back of Piper’s head, unable to process that I might have a sister. Let alone a twin.
She reaches out a hand, puts it on mine on the table—gives it a squeeze. “Brave girl. Oh, what is that—has Zak given you some serious jewelry?” Her eagle eye has spotted the tip of the stone pendant on my bracelet.
I shake my head and try to pull my hand back, but she’s already grabbed it and pulled up the sleeve I’d thought was long enough to hide it.
“Ooooh, this is really interesting. Wherever did it come from?”
“It belonged to my mother,” I admit.
“Really? Do you know where she got it?”
She’s still holding my hand, studying the bracelet in a way that makes me curious.
“I don’t know. She always had it. Does it mean something to you?”
“I can’t be sure, but I think I’ve seen something like it before. Maybe in my shop? Now, where was it . . .”
I hear the door open behind me, and footsteps: Zak? “I’ll leave you two alone now,” she says, and lets go of my hand. She pats my cheek and goes back behind the bar. I tuck my hands together under the table just as Zak sits down in the chair opposite.
“Is everything OK? What did Wendy have to say?”
I shake my head. “Nothing much. She asked about the funeral and stuff.”
He looks at me closely. “But something’s rattled you, hasn’t it? Listen, don’t let her faze you. She’s always wanting to talk to Piper for some reason. Seems fascinated by her.”
“She said something about her shop. What sort of shop is it?”
“It sells charms and crystals and all sorts of weirdness; she’s really into the occult. She works here some evenings when it’s closed.”
“What does Piper think of her? Does she take her seriously?” something makes me ask.
“Piper nicknamed her Wacky Wendy. Mostly she avoids her. Wendy was probably delighted that you chatted with her. She’s all right, really. Just a bit on the ditzy side, and Piper hasn’t got a lot of patience.”
Zak hands me a menu, and I look down at it without seeing the words. Spells and charms might sound crazy to Piper and Zak, but not so much to me. I’ve spent too much time around people who believe in them. Whether I do or not, I can’t really say. I’ve seen some strange things, I guess. I know Gran completely believes in it all.
“What do you fancy?” Zak says.
I look back up at him, momentarily confused—at his warm eyes, eyes that are even warmer when he looks at Piper. What do I fancy? Oh. He means food.
Ness suddenly lunges at the window, barking, and my heart leaps in fright. A woman is walking past with a big dog on a lead, which turns and regards Ness through the window without interest.
“Quiet! Sit,” Zak says. “Sit!” he says again, more firmly. And Ness looks torn—glancing between him and the window—but then does sit. “Good girl,” he says, and bends to pet her on the head.
Then he turns back to me. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Sorry, I’m fine. When Ness started barking—well . . . It just really made me jump.”
“What happened to you to make you so scared of dogs?”
“I don’t know. I wish I did—”
Snarling. Evil, sour breath. Paws on my chest. Heavy paws, and I can hardly breathe. I’m crying silently, fat tears on my cheeks, too scared to make a sound, too scared to move.
“Aye-up.” A man’s voice. The dog gets off me. Voices—the man’s and Gran’s.
“That should do,” she says. Then they move farther away, and I can hear them no more.
Piper, Piper . . .
Voices repeat a name. Who is Piper?
My sister. The voices think I’m her.
I stir, open my eyes. Zak is cradling my head, and Wendy is kneeling next to him. I’m on the floor?
“Are you all right?” he says.
“Uh, yes. I think so. What happened?”
“You went all white and slipped out of your chair. I think you fainted,” Zak says. “Have you done that before?”
I start to say no, and then—
I’m dislocated. Fainting—not fainting. It’s something else.
“We must put a stop to it.” Isobel’s voice, sharp with fear.
I shake my head, push it away—whatever it is. A memory? A vision? I manage to stay conscious this time—just. What is happening to me?
Ness squirms up to me and licks my face. I look at her with different eyes, eyes that understand. They made me afraid of dogs. On purpose. Why would anybody do that?
I choose not to be afraid of dogs anymore. I wrap my arms around Ness. Tears are springing in my eyes, and I can’t stop them.
There are more murmuring voices.
“Come on, beautiful.” It’s Giles. “I’m giving you a drive home, and your lover boy the night off. It’s not that busy. We’ll cope.”
Home? Piper’s house isn’t my home.
We get him to take us both to Zak’s. It’s the closest thing to one that I’ve got.
Later I’m on Zak’s sofa wrapped in a blanket, with Ness at my side. My shaking hands are wrapped around a big mug of tea.
“I’m sorry I wrecked your evening,” I say.
“Don’t apologize. Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. But I will be. Thank you for looking after me.”
“No problem.”
“Piper will be furious. I’ve got everyone thinking she’s crazy.”
He shakes his head. “Nobody thought you were crazy. Your mother just died. You’re allowed to faint and cry if you need to.”
“Piper won’t agree with you. She doesn’t lose control.” Somehow I know this, even though I haven’t known her for long.
“That may be true most of the time, though she does actually have quite a temper now and then. But she’ll get over it. So . . . do you want to tell me what happened?”
I put the tea on the table, lean back and sigh. “When you asked me why I was scared of dogs, it’s kind of like I had this memory. I’ve never known the reason, but then it came back to me, like it was happening to me now. I was really young, maybe four or five. And this horrible snarling dog was standing on my chest. He was huge, and I couldn’t breathe, and . . .” I shake my head, not wanting to go back there in my mind.
Zak gets up from the chair, sits next to me on the sofa. He takes my hand and holds it.
“I’m sorry I triggered your memory like that. That sounds absolutely terrifying.”
“It’s fine; I’m not sorry. Now I know why.” But I don’t tell him the rest of it. That man and his dog and my grandmother who did that to me.
How could she?
And what was it that I remembered after—the fainting that wasn’t fainting—that had made Isobel so afraid?
Ness looks up at me and licks my face. Her body is warm and helps me stop shivering—that, and Zak’s hand in mine.
That night, I’m afraid to go to sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I see that snarling dog, feel it standing on my chest.