As the Snow Falls - Vol. 1 (The Muse Series #1)

by M.D. James

  Chapter 2

  When I woke up, I was in a very sterile room that was completely unfamiliar. There was a lady sitting in a chair next to my bed.

  “James Nelson?” she curtly asked with a distinct British accent.

  “Where am I? Where’s my Mom? Who are you?” I fire off.

  “I asked if you were James Nelson.” She repeated, even more sternly than before.

  “Yes,” was all I could say before I started crying again.

  The lady told me her name was Ms. Higgenbotham, and that she worked for the Department of Family Services, and that I was in the hospital. “You are here because you hit your head when you fainted,” she offered. “When the doctors release you, you will be taken to go live with your mother and father in Georgia….”

  “What are you talking about? I live here with my Mom and sister,” I interrupted.

  “That lady is not your mother, and Sarah is not your sister. You were kidnapped as a baby and your real family wants you back, immediately. They seem to have quite a bit of pull, even here in Washington.” She said, more to herself, than to me.

  My mind was reeling. What did she mean, my Mom wasn’t my mother? And, what is going to happen to her, and my sister? Before I could ask anything else, the doctor came into the room to check me out. He asked me if I remembered my name and the date…stuff like that. I remembered, but it was hard to focus on his questions when my whole world was changing.

  I was checked out of the hospital, and put on a plane to Georgia before I could even comprehend what was happening. No one would tell me what was going on with my sister or Mom. They wouldn’t even let me go home and get any clothes or belongings. “Your family has instructed us that they will provide all you need.” That’s all Ms. Higgenbotham would say on the subject.

  I was told that someone would be at the airport to pick me up from the gate, but not who that would be. Would it be my birth mother or father? What would they look like? I still could not believe that my Mom kidnapped me. She was too nice and honest for that. This has to be a mistake.

  I fell asleep on the plane. When I arrived at the Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport, a friendly flight attendant helped me off the plane. I figured it was her job to keep an eye on me until someone collected me at the gate. She reminded me a little bit of my Mom. A tear escaped and slowly made its way down my cheek.

  As I stepped out into the sitting area of the gate, I saw an African-American man holding up a sign that read: JAMES NELSON. He seemed to be an older man, maybe in his fifties or sixties. And, he was wearing a button up sweater, with a formal looking shirt and tie underneath. He also had on black slacks, and shiny, black, dress shoes. On his head sat one of those English-looking hats like you’d see in the movie Newsies.

  The flight attendant handed me off to the older man and I learned that he was my new family’s chauffer, Mr. Bryant. I guess that explained why he was dressed so formally. He seemed nice, though, and had a warm and friendly face. As we walked to the drop off zone located outside of the baggage claim, he told me not to be so scared, and to give my new family a chance. Mostly, I just walked along, silently…with a nod every now and then to not appear rude. I just could not focus on being cheery right then, with so many unanswered questions screaming in my mind.

  The drive seemed to take forever. Apparently, my true family lived about an hour outside of Atlanta, in the town of Rome, Georgia. I looked out the window of the shiny, black, luxury sedan as we slowed down, and saw that we were pulling into a gated estate. In front of me, was a house that dwarfed the size of the mansions in Ashton Woods Estate. I had seen shopping malls that looked smaller.

  We were buzzed in, and the gate opened. Mr. Bryant pulled the car around to the front entrance of my new home. I had mixed feelings when I saw that no one came out of the house. If they were my family and I was so loved, why aren’t they running to greet me? But, to me, they were still strangers…and rich or not, I didn’t want a new family. I just wanted the one I had always known.

  Mr. Bryant broke my thoughts, “Hurry on, Mr. James. I’m sure your Grandfather will be waiting for us. We musn’t keep him waiting.”

  My grandfather? Where were my mother and father? Why was he waiting for me, and not them?

  I was rushed through the large foyer, and into what appeared to be a library. Everything was built of a dark, mahogany wood. The library contained mahogany bookshelves covering three of the walls. The floors were hardwood, to match, and other than the thousands of hard cover books on the shelves, there was very little clutter. Mr. Bryant knocked on a door against the forth wall before opening the door. He gently pushed me into the room, which appeared to be an office of sorts. Again, there was very little clutter. Everything looked so neat and in its rightful place. Behind the large Mahogany desk sat a smaller man with a very stern expression on his face. He had pure, white hair, and a matching full mustache. Upon his nose sat a small pair of reading glasses, and he had a scar on his left cheek. Could this be my grandfather? He waved me to sit down in an antique chair in front of his desk, without even uttering a word. He seemed to be studying me, and a chill ran down my spine.

  “I don’t know what you are used to, but there will be no disrespect in this house,” he ordered, before even introducing himself to me.

  He didn’t even know me! Why would he think I’m disrespectful? “My Mom taught me manners…” I started, but was quickly interrupted.

  “Mrs. Nelson was NOT your mother. She was a sick lady that kidnapped you from us many years ago!” he countered.

  I couldn’t take it anymore. All the pain and rage I had been feeling finally made its way to the surface. I stood up to show my unwavering resolve and yelled, “You’re a liar! She IS my Mom, and nothing will change that!”

  My grandfather stood up as well, and quietly stared at me. I wasn’t sure what to expect, and suddenly I felt his hand make contact with my face. The slap was so hard that I fell over the chair and landed on the floor. In a cold, steely voice, he said, “You will never interrupt me again, is that understood?” I didn’t answer, but he continued anyways. “Furthermore, you will never speak of Mrs. Nelson again. I have started the process to change your last name back to Muse. You will go by James Muse from this point on, and I expect you to not cause embarrassment to the name, as it is also my name. You were named after me, but you are to refer to me as Grandfather only.”

  How could I be named after such a cold, awful man?

  “I have arranged a room to be set up for you on the second floor. You will be taken to the room and remain there until dinner, at which time you will meet your mother, father and brother, Zachary.” As if on cue, Mr. Bryant arrived and ushered me to my room. I didn’t want to let my grandfather see me cry, but as soon as my bedroom door was closed, I released wave after wave of tears. I cried tears for my Mom, tears for Sarah, and tears for me.

  Would I ever see the only family I had ever known again? What about Connor, and even Mikey? And who was my new family? Will they like me, or be as mean as Grandfather? What about my new brother? And, why was I being held prisoner in my room? Did Grandfather think I would run away?

  Knock, knock, knock…

  There was a soft knock at the door, and before I could wipe my eyes and answer the door, it opened quickly. A boy of maybe ten or eleven snuck in and swiftly closed the door behind him. Could this be my brother?

  “Hi. I’m Zack. You must be James.” My brother extended his hand for me to shake. He was almost my height, but much better looking. He had gelled up hair that reminded me a little of Jimmy Neutron, and a medium tan. I could see that his arms were nicely toned since he was wearing a sleeveless shirt. He had a thin gold chain around his neck and a very expensive looking watch on his left wrist. He looked like a movie star to me…dressed in clothes from only the most expensive stores, I imagined. I guessed having
money allowed you to look your best at all times.

  “I go by Jimmy,” I corrected.

  “Don’t let Grandfather hear you say that…,” he warned, “and don’t ever call me Zack around him either. Everything has to be proper with Grandfather.” He plopped down on the bed. That was the first chance I had to look around the room. When I first arrived, I just balled up and cried. The room was much bigger than my room at home was, but I gathered the house didn’t have any small rooms. There was a night stand beside the bed and a matching dresser and mirror against the opposite wall. The room looked very bare. On the same wall, was another door that appeared to lead to a bathroom. Zack saw me examining the room, and continued, “Yeah….it’s not much, but I’m sure Dad will buy you whatever you want.”

  “I just want my family back!” I snapped.

  “We are your family.”

  “No! My real family…my Mom and sister!” I was about to cry again.

  “How can you want to be with a mom that stole you? That’s kind-of sick, bro,” Zack told me, casually, as if he were talking about the weather.

  “She didn’t steal me…and at least she loved me! Your mom and dad aren’t even here to meet me, and Grandfather welcomed me by slapping me. So, you tell me why I’d want to be with them instead,” I yelled back.

  “Okay…calm down, dude. Whatever…I just wanted to say Hi. I think it’ll be neat having an older brother…” He suggested. “I gotta jet…but I’ll see you at dinner,” he quickly added as he snuck back out of my room.

  Later, at dinner, I was able to meet the man and woman I was told were my real parents. The dining room was decorated in a similar fashion to the rest of the house…more mahogany wood everywhere. The table was simple but elegant. There was an ironed, white linen tablecloth covering the length of the table and each long side had six chairs. There was another chair at each end of the table, making the table seat fourteen. Grandfather was sitting in one of those chairs, presumably as the ‘Head of the House,’ as I entered the room. There was a man and lady on one side of the table, closest to Grandfather. I assumed that they were my parents. Opposite them was Zack, my new younger brother. I was directed to the seat next to him. “Hello,” I tried to politely offer, even though I felt like I was under a microscope.

  Grandfather was the first to speak. Again, I wondered why my parents weren’t the first to greet me. “James, I believe you have already met your brother, Zachary.” Zack looked over at me and smiled. Does everyone tell Grandfather everything, I wondered? “This is my daughter, and your mother, Jane Muse-Picard…and her husband, Henry Picard,” he added, almost as an afterthought.

  My mother was an average looking lady, in her late thirties, most likely. Her wool suit resembled that of a First Lady. She had on very little makeup, and the only jewelry I could see was a small gold watch, and a pair of diamond stud earrings.

  My father seemed to be exactly the opposite, though. He was a bit younger, and looked more like a model. Not a hair on his head was out of place, and you could tell that he just received a haircut. His suit reminded me of Armani suits I saw in Sarah’s fashion magazines. His suit likely cost much more, though. On his wrist was a gold Rolex watch. He was the first of my parents to speak. “James, are you settling in okay?” he asked.

  “I go by Jimmy,” I replied meekly.

  “What’s that?” he asked as if he didn’t hear what I had said.

  I cleared my throat, nervously, and repeated myself, “I said that I go by the name Jimmy.”

  “James has been settled into his room, and made aware of the rules of this house,” Grandfather replied instead, clearly ignoring my request to be called Jimmy rather than James. Obviously, Zack was not kidding earlier.

  “That’s good,” my mother chimed in, looking as if she were afraid to speak.

  “Of course, we’ll get you anything you need,” my father added. “I assume you’ll need a computer, and some proper clothes.”

  What was wrong with my clothes?

  “I don’t need clothes or a computer! I just want to know what has happened to my Mom and sister,” I pleaded.

  My new mother started crying, and my father just continued as if she weren’t even there. “Of course you need clothes. We can’t have you going to school looking so poor.” He smiled as if he said something funny, while taking another bite of his filet.

  I remained quiet for the rest of dinner. The truth was that my stomach was still in knots, and I had absolutely no appetite. Quite the contrary…I felt as though I was about to vomit. I probably would have if I had eaten anything in the past 24 hours.

  Zack, or should I say Zachary, rambled on about his day. He didn’t seem like a bad kid, but did come off as a bit of a snob. At the moment, he was the closest thing I had to a friend, and I was going to need that when I started school.

  After dinner, I decided to go to bed early. The day had already been long enough. I still felt like crying, but I had no more tears left. I thought about my new mother and father. She seemed to be meek and mild, and he seemed to be only concerned with appearances and having material things. It became clear to me why Grandfather seemed to be in charge of everything and everyone. I never had a grandfather, but I always pictured a warm old man that would always have a piece of candy in his pocket to offer when I’d see him…the kind of grandfather that always smiled and seemed happy. The grandfather I met definitely wasn’t what my grandfather was like. I couldn’t even imagine him giving me, or anyone else for that matter, a hug. Thinking of hugs reminded me of my Mom. She would hug me all the time. I felt guilty thinking that mom may have loved my sister more. Maybe she did treat us differently, since I apparently wasn’t her biological child. But, I always felt loved. I always knew I could count on her when I was upset or sad, and she would never hit me like Grandfather did. I tried to think of the happier times, because it was just too sad to think of my Mom, scared and alone in a jail cell. Eventually, I fell asleep; dreaming of arguments with my Mom and sister that now seemed like pleasant memories.