Promises

by Aleatha Romig

  “I don’t know a Hicks,” he said, “and as for that woman, Pauline is certain she’s an imposter.”

  “Then why did you have her friend kidnapped and demand McCrie’s evidence?”

  He shook his head.

  I leaned forward with my hands on the glossy table, one holding the other as my elbows straightened. “I called this meeting to get the shit out in the open. You’re afraid the old wives’ tale is true and Araneae has McCrie’s evidence. I’m here to tell you that I thought that might be true. I was wrong. She has nothing. She didn’t even know her name much less have decades-old evidence.”

  “Then your dead daddy lied to you or never told you the truth,” he said with a shit-eating grin. “I don’t know what you know from those days, but they’re over. I’m announcing my candidacy for president on Labor Day. I don’t want any ghosts from the past coming back to life. She’s a damn ghost and if you cared about her at all, you would have left her dead.”

  My jaw clenched as my grip of my own hands tightened. “She’s off-limits. Anyone associated with her is off-limits.”

  “Her momma thinks it’s her. It’s a shame.” He shook his head in mock sympathy. “It will break her heart to lose her daughter a second time, to see her dead. You should have left her that way.”

  “She was never dead,” I said, my teeth aching from the increased pressure.

  “She was to us. It was over. McCrie just couldn’t let it go. He gave me six CD-ROM discs and six to your daddy, but before Daniel died, we learned he’d made copies. Son, those CDs will hurt Sparrow as much as McFadden.”

  “I’m not running for president,” I said.

  “No, but I am. And I don’t even want that evidence to hurt Sparrow. As appealing as that is,” he said, leaning forward, “my political career is tied to Illinois, to Chicago. It doesn’t need a story like this to get out. You’ve closed up Sparrow’s ring.” His head shook. “Too fucking fast if you ask me, but you didn’t ask and you got away with it. None of the existing rings are tied to me or my outfit, not in a way that can be linked. Like I said, let the dead stay dead, or kill them if necessary.”

  “Why do you believe that the copies exist? I asked Judge Landers and she said she didn’t believe the old wives’ tale.”

  “No wives’ tale,” Rubio said. “I know what she says. I’ve kept that woman close, waiting for the day she slips up and I learn what McCrie did. So far, nothing.”

  “Again, then why?”

  “Daniel told me, seconds before his last breath.”

  I sneered, almost chuckled.

  It didn’t fucking surprise me that Rubio McFadden had been the one to kill Daniel McCrie. It surprised me that he’d admit it.

  “Don’t tell me,” he said, “that you’re shocked that someone might off their own family, if it served a purpose.” He looked pointedly at my gold ring—my father’s gold ring.

  “Takes a lot to shock me.” I leaned back again, lowering my hands to the ornate arms of the chair. “Stay away from Araneae and anyone connected to her. She doesn’t have the evidence. She didn’t know a thing about it, but if you’re certain it exists, I’ll try to find it.”

  “I’ve been looking for ten years, since McCrie died. He told me that she had the key.”

  I shook my head. “She had no connection to him. She didn’t know him.”

  Rubio laid his hands flat on the table. “Dying men don’t lie. You should have asked more questions of Allister. Labor Day is coming in a week.” He stood. “I respect you and things you’ve done, Sparrow. We could make this work: coexist in Chicago while I get the big white house on Pennsylvania Avenue. Somehow, that girl has the key, and I’m not letting her bring me down. I’m not letting you bring me down.”

  I stood too. “One fucking week. You want me to find in one week what you couldn’t find in twenty-six years.”

  “Ten,” he corrected. “I’d heard rumors, but it wasn’t until McCrie was at death’s door that we knew for sure that she’d lived. Your daddy came to me. We made a deal.”

  “I thought my father came to you to tell you he didn’t hire the hit on McCrie.”

  “He came to me because he knew Daniel sang, and he didn’t want World War III. I’m not interested in World War III. I’m interested in the presidency now. You find me that evidence, and then you can keep the girl.”

  I stood taller, squaring my shoulders, towering higher than McFadden. “I’m keeping her no matter what. You’re backing the fuck away because if you don’t, I’ll turn Chicago into a war zone and your campaign will be the first thing we obliterate.”

  “You’re the one who was hell-bent on saving the kids,” he said as if it were a bad thing. “Hell, half of them came from nothing. At least with us they had a roof over their heads and food in their bellies.”

  “Don’t fucking justify what you did.” I narrowed my stare. “Their lives were hell.”

  “You saved them, many of them. I’ll sweeten the pot. You get me that evidence. We put this behind us for good. I don’t give a damn if she’s really Araneae McCrie or not, my niece or not. Like I said, a family connection hasn’t stopped either of us from getting rid of people in the past. Get me the evidence, and she lives and her friends stay safe, as long as they fucking stay away from the feds.”

  “He was in your outfit, the fed.”

  Rubio’s cheeks rose. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.”

  “You knew?”

  He didn’t answer; instead he continued, “And for the sweetening part, I’ll make sure any rings dealing in that precious merchandise in or around Chicago—that I can find—will also be closed down.” He shook his head. “It’s a win-win proposition. Maybe we can even come together, two pillars from one of the biggest cities in our country, to end child exploitation. We’ll be fucking heroes, and I’ll be moving into the White House.”

  “I can’t promise a week.”

  He started to leave but turned back. “Time’s running out, Sparrow. And don’t come back here to Washington. We aren’t ready for the photo ops yet. Call Hillman when you have the CDs. I’ll be back in Chicago as soon as I can.”

  “Araneae and her friends are safe,” I said again.

  “Until Labor Day. Bye, now. We’ll be talking again, real soon.”

  Araneae

  Tuesday morning as I entered the kitchen, my steps stilled, surprised to see Sterling still present. I watched as he stood talking to Reid with his back to me, scanning his long legs covered in his pricey suit trousers, his fit waist, and the way his long-sleeved shirt fit over his broad shoulders. There was something about seeing him dressed for work that twisted my insides, perhaps it was because I was becoming very accustomed to what he was hiding under that expensive suit.

  He turned.

  His dark gaze held me captive as he blatantly did the same as I’d just done, his eyes scanning from my high heels to the top of my head. Thank goodness I was wearing a padded bra under this silk blouse because under the heat of his stare, my nipples were as hard as the diamonds in my ears.

  “I should stick around more in the morning,” he said, walking toward me and wrapping an arm around my waist. It didn’t matter that the kitchen was filled with our friends as he pulled me to him. “You’re beautiful. I think I should reconsider this Sinful Threads Chicago office.”

  The tips of my lips moved upward as I was surrounded by more than his embrace, but also the cloud of his spicy cologne. His playful tone had me intrigued after all that he’d told me about McFadden the night before. “Why is that?”

  “You look too damn good to be out there with other men. I’m thinking a permanent lockdown should be considered.”

  “I will stab you in your sleep.” I looked beyond his broad shoulders. “Besides, I think that’s why I have Patrick.”

  His grin grew as he turned to Patrick. “Fight them off with a stick.”

  Patrick smiled.

  “I’m serious,” Sterling went on, “use you
r gun if you have to.”

  “I’m finding,” Patrick said, “the silk fashion industry is a primarily female-oriented business.”

  “Yes, not many gunfights,” I added.

  Sterling kissed my cheek and stepped away. “We can never be too careful. Women are as dangerous as men.”

  Lorna and I exchanged looks.

  “See,” Reid said, “look at the two of them scheming.”

  “Hey, working together got me to your level,” I said with a laugh as I poured a cup of coffee. “Why are you here?” I asked Sterling.

  “Other than this is where I live?”

  “Yeah, other than that.”

  “The three of us have been working on what McFadden said. We need more. I’d like to be with you when Annabelle comes to your office. Maybe she knows more than she even realizes. We’re running out of time.”

  Biting my lower lip, I shook my head. “I’m scared to see her, yet I feel like I need to do this alone.” I looked over at Patrick. “Not like I’m alone. Patrick and Jana will be there.”

  “If we weren’t on the time crunch, I’d agree,” Sterling replied. “This can’t wait.”

  I blew across the top of my coffee mug. “I could ask her whatever you want to know.”

  Sterling came closer. “You haven’t spoken to her yet.”

  He was right. Jana had arranged the meeting for me. My hands were too shaky as I held the card she’d given to Sterling and I tried to call. I had no doubt I’d be a bundle of emotions when we spoke. Having Sterling there would be support; however, for ten years I’d been strong on my own. Being in a relationship with him didn’t mean I was no longer strong. It meant I could lean on him, and sometimes it would be better if I didn’t.

  I shook my head. “I know, but please, I need to do this.” Placing the coffee on the counter, I cupped his smooth cheeks. “This meeting wouldn’t be possible without you.”

  He reached for my hands and kissed each palm. “I don’t want to ruin this for either of you, but she was there. She told me about your birth. We need to learn what she remembers and maybe even clues about the time closer to when your father died.”

  I exhaled as I reclaimed my coffee. “She’s coming at noon. Let me have some time with her and then you can arrive.”

  “How long do you think she’ll be there?”

  “I invited her for lunch. I figured even if we don’t eat, it will help ease the tension.”

  He nodded as he reached for my wrist, the one not holding the mug. “You’re wearing the bracelet.”

  I swallowed the lump forming in my throat as I retrieved my wrist and sat at the table where Lorna had fruit and a muffin waiting. “I can’t explain it.” I looked down at the charms. “I think that sometimes I feel a relationship with Annabelle is cheating on Josey.” I shrugged. “And maybe even Lucy—Louisa’s mother. Wearing this is my connection to all of them, my way of including them in this. Remember, Josey told me that she and Annabelle were friends...and Lucy added charms.”

  Sterling shook his head as he sat beside me. “That’s not true though. Annabelle didn’t give you to the Marshes. She believed you’d died.”

  “I’m hoping she can fill in those blanks for me.”

  “Sunshine, we’re trying to do that, but right now we need to concentrate on finding that evidence.”

  A familiar uneasiness settled over me. “Why can’t McFadden believe that I don’t have it? I don’t want it. I want to move on.”

  Lines of concern formed on Sterling’s forehead. “He said that your father said you were the key.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “Maybe Annabelle does.”

  I looked beyond Sterling: the room had emptied. “Where is everyone?”

  His lips turned upward as his dark eyes glistened. “I guess they wanted to give us a moment.”

  Leaning forward, I brushed my lips over his. “I love you. I’m not sorry you brought me to Chicago, to you...” I looked around the now-emptied kitchen to the view beyond the windows. “...and to this. I’m starting to love everyone here. I’m just worried that more people will get hurt because of me.”

  “Not on our watch.”

  Wringing my hands, I paced the length in front of my desk to the windows and back as the clock approached noon. Jana had picked up lunch from a local deli not far from our office. While she and Patrick would eat theirs in the conference room, I had my mother’s—that was difficult to say—and mine ready on the table in my office. The memories of the meeting with Pauline continued on repeat in my head.

  Sterling had said Annabelle wanted to meet with me. I kept telling myself to believe him. He wouldn’t have encouraged this reunion if it would end poorly. To be honest, I wasn’t sure what I’d do if this ended the way the meeting with Pauline had gone.

  Through my door that was ajar, I heard the opening of the door to Jana’s office. My steps stilled as my stomach twisted, adding auxiliary knots on top of knots. Closing my eyes, I listened.

  “Excuse me. I have an appointment with...Araneae McCrie.”

  Tears filled my eyes at the sound of my real name. Annabelle pronounced it differently than I was used to hearing. She pronounced it, uh-ron-e-eye, like the spider.

  I took a deep breath and willed my feet to move—to meet her halfway. It felt like the most difficult ten feet I’d ever walked. My limbs became tingly and my head faint. My circulation was speeding yet not doing its job of delivering oxygen to my cells. With my nerves ramping up into overdrive, I took a deep breath and reached for the doorknob.

  Jana was still seated at her desk while Patrick was hidden in the conference room, the door slightly ajar. None of that mattered. My concentration was on the only other person in the room.

  As my gaze met my mother’s, the rest of the world disappeared.

  “That would be me,” I said, my voice unsteady.

  Araneae

  Annabelle Landers didn’t move, staring at me as if I could be a ghostly apparition, able to disappear at any moment.

  This wasn’t the first time I saw the woman who had given me life.

  I’d seen her reflection in the mirror within the bathroom of the club. I’d looked her up online once I knew more about her. Yet none of that prepared me for this second, for the way my heart pounded in my chest, my circulation drummed in my ears, or my hand trembled on the doorknob.

  The woman before me was tall and slender with a regal air. Maybe a better word was stately. Seeing her standing here in my office, holding her handbag like a shield, her shoulders back and neck straight, I envisioned her presiding over trials wearing a black robe over her lovely dress. Her blonde hair was secured in a twist behind her head, allowing her neck to appear long with a simple string of pearls.

  She was me. I was her. Sterling said they had mitochondrial DNA to confirm my identity and my relationship to this woman. As we stared at one another, that scientific verification wasn’t necessary.

  “Oh,” Annabelle gasped as her fingers of one hand came to her lips. “You’re so beautiful.”

  Though tears were slipping down them, my cheeks moved higher while my breasts rose and fell as I fought to fill my lungs. “I-I...look like you.”

  I did.

  If I could see into the future to when I would be Annabelle’s age, I believed I would be her twin. I’d read online that she was sixty-seven years old. I’d read facts, such as she married Daniel McCrie following their graduation from University of Chicago Law School. Annabelle Landers had begun working for the state prosecutor before being elected to the Illinois Circuit Court. She had one child, a daughter who was deceased. She was later appointed to the federal court; her appointment had been spearheaded by Senator Rubio McFadden. Her husband passed away ten years ago.

  It was all information, but none of it was like staring into my own eyes, ones as moist as mine.

  Annabelle too was crying. “You do look like me. I always thought you would.”

  My head tilted.
“I don’t know what to do now.”

  Annabelle took a step closer. “May I...” She swallowed. “...may I hug you?”

  It was almost too much.

  I nodded as we both took another step closer.

  The soft scent of vanilla filled my senses as she engulfed my shoulders in her embrace. For a moment, we stood there, her arms around me and mine holding to her.

  How do you greet the mother you never knew?

  How do you greet the daughter you thought had died?

  With tears and smiles seemed to be the answer to both questions.

  When we finally pulled away, I gestured into my office. “We can go in here. I have lunch.”

  She nodded. “Thank you for agreeing to see me.”

  As I closed the door, I pointed to the table. “I thought we could eat.”

  Her smile turned sad. “Araneae, you have to know that I didn’t know.”

  “Sterling told me.”

  We sat, each looking more at one another than toward the food.

  Finally, she spoke, “It is hard for me to understand how you and Sterling Sparrow became...At the club, you said that the two of you are engaged?” She looked toward my left hand.

  I shook my head. “It’s not true. We’re dating...” A smile floated across my face at the memory of our one official date. “...we have a lot happening right now. I told you that because you were staring at me. I didn’t know who you were, and well, it seems that Sterling has a reputation. I thought saying he was my fiancé would protect me.”

  “I never thought I’d say anything like this about a Sparrow; however, when he met with me, I believed him. He cares for you and about you. While I would never have chosen a Sparrow for my daughter....” Her cheeks rose higher. “...I like saying my daughter... I would want you to be happy and seeing you and talking to him, I hope you are.”

  “I am.”

  We both reached for our napkins, placing them on our laps.

  Annabelle tilted her head. “There are so many things I want to ask you. Did you...” She seemed to swallow her words. “...was your childhood...?” She took a deep breath. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.”