by S C Thomas
“It’s quite alright,” the man assured the foster woman, whose name Emma had also forgotten. She really wasn’t good at remembering names. “She’s just probably shocked to see me, is all. May I have something to drink?”
The woman nodded mutely, cast a side eyed look at the silent Emma and left the room to retrieve the requested drink, leaving the two alone. The man pulled out a chair and sat in front of Emma, his hands clasped in his laps. For what seemed like an eternity but in reality, was only mere minutes, they stared at one another in silence. The haunting of her mother’s eyes danced in front of her, clear as day. She blinked rapidly, but they didn’t go away. They were right in front of her, shimmering when the corners of his lips upturned into a smile.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t be there when your mother died.”
Emma blinked, but this time in surprise. How did he know about her death? She opened her mouth to ask him, but once again found the inability to speak, and closed it with a snap. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say to that anyways. Whenever people found out her mother was dead, they would give her a fake sad smile, a pity look, and talk to her like she was a child. They would give their sorrow, but she knew they didn’t care. No one did. If they did, she wouldn’t be in this predicament, now would she? She was like a puppet, waiting for the strings to be moved so she could walk or dance or just do anything, while everyone else around her moved around and pretended to be interested in her. But she was a wooden character, one they had long ago given up on.
“I’m Marcus,” he introduced and held out a hand. Emma only stared at him, refusing to touch him and after a minute, he withdrew, but that smile never faded. Instead, his eyes searched her face, trying to find something she couldn’t pinpoint for what he was looking for. “You have your father’s eyes.” He mused. “How curious.”
Emma shifted in her seat and dropped her gaze, shrouding her eyes beneath her eyelids to keep him from looking at her. She didn’t want him looking at her any longer, couldn’t stand it at that. Who was he to stare at her like some creep?
“I apologize,” he started, the creak of the chair in her ears as he leaned towards her. “I’m Marcus, your mother’s brother. I’m your uncle, Emma.”
Her head shot up, eyes widening in the surprise that overtook her features. She stood quickly, far too quickly as it knocked over her chair, it landing with a thud to the ground. She could’ve sworn she almost heard a small crunching, probably a crack in the wooden object. She hoped it wasn’t broken, she didn’t have the money to fix it. She put a foot behind her, pulling herself back from him, putting distance between her and this man she knew nothing about.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” She croaked, forcing the words out around the thickness she felt in her mouth.
He didn’t move, only his head tilted upwards to watch her. He had obviously realized the shock she was suddenly in and didn’t want to make it any worse for her. “I said, I’m your uncle. Your mother’s brother.”
Emma shook her head, disbelief written across her face. “My mother doesn’t have family. She told me that a long time ago. She doesn’t have family.”
It wasn’t the entire truth. Her mother had never specifically stated she didn’t have family, it was just kind of assumed. She didn’t talk about them, or anyone besides her and Emma. She never even talked about Emma’s father, except to keep the necklace on at all times. The one time she had decided to disobey her mother on that one rule, here she was. Paying the consequences of a lifetime. So, she was going to believe her mother had, at one point though she couldn’t remember, told her that she didn’t have family. It was all she had left; it was all she could do. She was going to believe it.
He pressed his lips together and then exhaled slowly, dipping his head as he muttered beneath his breath. Slowly the man, Marcus, stood, towering over Emma by at least two heads or so it seemed. “We had a sort of, er, falling out. I’m not surprised she would say that.” He said airily as if it were the most natural thing to accept. “But I’m not lying Emma, your mother and I share the same bloodline. Which means you share it with me as well.” He glanced around then, officially taking in the view of the home.
It was tiny, a four-bedroom place but held the foster kids well enough. The living and dining area were adjacent, one large room with only the floor seams to separate one another. A wall and open door led to the kitchen and a small hall off behind him gave way to the three bedrooms that housed the kids and a door to the right of it led to the basement the parents slept in, a makeshift master bedroom. It wasn’t much, but it was a good enough place to house kids who needed a home and that was good enough for the government. Marcus wrinkled his nose at the sight, giving a jerk of a shake to his head.
“You live here?”
“Just until my social worker comes, then I’m off to another place.” Emma explained glumly, her shoulders drooping at the reminder she had to switch homes.
There was no way at all she was fond of this place, but it didn’t mean she wanted to upright and leave. If anything, she just wanted a place to stay until she aged out of the system to go out on her own. Then she’d get an apartment, a job to provide for herself, and never have to leave or move again. Without her mother, she felt at a loss and just wanted somewhere stable. Obviously, it wasn’t happening anytime soon.
“Do you share a room?”
The look of disgust gave her away all too well, but she nodded anyways. “With one girl, she tried stealing my necklace this morning. Blamed the mess on me, it’s why I’m leaving.”
Marcus was silent for a moment as he looked back at her, that curiosity lingering back in his eyes. He seemed to want to ask something or just say it, but Emma couldn’t figure out what it was for. She shifted her feet nervously, now regretting that she had tipped over her chair. She didn’t want to seem rude by picking it up just to sit back down. Not that it mattered though, she couldn’t look away from him.
Her mother’s eyes danced in front of her.
She blinked, but they wouldn’t go away. It dawned on her that the eyes she saw wasn’t her mother’s, but the man in front of her. They belonged to him. She inhaled sharply, taking another step back, trying to get further away from him but it wasn’t very many steps before she hit wall. She closed her eyes, trying to block out those eyes. It had to be a trick. Maybe a trick of the light at that. It had to be.
“Emma, it’s okay. I know I have her eyes, I’m sorry about that. It’s not something I can help. We both got our mother’s eyes.”
Emma peeked open her eyes, looking at him through slits. She remembered her mother telling her about she had gotten her mother’s eyes, but with Emma that had stopped. Up through her, every child of their family received their mother’s eyes. Until Emma entered the world and got her father’s. It was a baffling thing, but her mother had always said she was special.
Still, she couldn’t say anything. She didn’t know how to respond to the man. Her eyes roamed to the scar on his cheek, chest tight in the shallow attempt at breathing. She was actually starting to feel lightheaded from the little oxygen she was receiving.
Marcus stepped forward, finally taking a chance to advance on her while she was cornered. But instead of trying to attack her like her overactive imagination had her thinking, he held out his hand, a rectangular piece of paper held between his fingers.
“I’m the headmaster for an elite boarding school. I would love for you to come with me. You can go to school, have a place to call home, and live with me during the summer holiday. You wouldn’t have to move ever again.” He offered, that smile back on his lips.
Emma eyed the business card, not once reaching for it. She knew better then to take things from complete strangers. For all she knew, the instant she touched it, he could pull her in for a lock and kidnap her. She’d seen it on television before, it did happen. But that was just her imagination working in overtime, wasn’t it? If he was going to kidnap her, he could’ve done it by now. They had
been alone long enough and besides; the foster mother would never miss her. She would brush it off and probably pretend she was still here long after she was gone just to collect the money in her name. Where was she anyways? She was supposed to be getting a drink, she should’ve already gotten one. She had been gone for far too long just to get a drink.
“Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” He gave a toothy grin, but a glint in his eyes made her somewhat uneasy.
She knew that glint though. It was the one that sparked in her mother’s eyes when she meant business, when she was trying to get Emma to listen and do as she was told. Her hand automatically reached forward, taking the card from him, but she held it at her side. At least she had taken it, it didn’t mean she had to look at it right away.
“I want you to come with me,” he repeated, reaching into his breast coast pocket of his jacket and withdrew a square piece of paper.
No, the glossy image on it as he turned it over clarified it to be of a picture. Not just a piece of paper. Emma craned her neck, not daring to step forward but far too curious to see what the picture was about. He held it out for her so she could see it better and the image upon the surface made her hand flash forward, fingers grasping the edges and pulled it towards her. He let get easily, as if having wanted her to take it from him. She examined the castle upon the image. Fog rolled over lush green of the lawn that stretched far beyond the frame of the photo. On one side lay a thick forest, dark in the photo and right smack in the middle was the castle that reared high into the sky. The photo had lost its towers that rose out of the top of the frame, but she knew they were they regardless. The stone was sturdy and there was even a drawbridge, a moat surrounding the place, the water shimmering even in the still photograph.
She couldn’t but stare at it, mesmerized by the beauty of the castle. Entranced by it if anything.
“That’s where you’d go to school.” Marcus pointed out. “Charmwood Academy. Do you like it?”
Dumbfounded and speechless, her eyes never straying from the photo, Emma nodded mutely.
“You can come with me; you can leave tonight. Never have to look back at this place again.” His voice was hopeful, as if she would just jump on board and leave with him.
She kind of wanted to though. To leave everything behind and start fresh, somewhere that could give her a new life without her having to upturn and leave again. But even the photo spoke a reality that seemed too good to be true. And Emma knew from experience when something seemed too good to be true, it probably wasn’t. Like the time her and her mother had stayed in one city, she couldn’t remember which one now, for nearly six months. It had been the longest they’d ever stayed anywhere and taking chances, Emma had tried to make friends. She had thought she’d be able to finally settle, to have a real life like everyone else. Until her mother uprooted them in the middle of the night, canceling all her dreams of finally calling somewhere home. It had seemed too good to be true and she had taken the bait, but in the end, had lost her hook. She couldn’t dare let that happen again.
Not again.
She shoved the picture back at him, squeezing past him. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” She said softly, not really wanting to explain, but gearing up for having to do so anyways.
“I know I don’t have any rights to you, your mother didn’t exactly leave me guardian but if you choose to come with me, I can get that swept under the rug. I’m family Emma, isn’t that what you want?”
She stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face him, her head held high. “If you’re family, why haven’t you been around?”
“Your mother wouldn’t let me. Every time I got close; she’d take off with you. I wasn’t allowed to be around.”
Emma snorted, crossing her arms over her chest as she raised an eyebrow in question. “You could’ve gotten that from my records, that she and I moved around a lot. Likely story.”
His face fell, but it was plain that he realized she wasn’t going to budge easily. She needed more proof then just a story given to her. “Alright, what can I do to prove it?”
Emma shrugged, looking at her feet and kicked the ground. She didn’t know what was supposed to be proven in a situation like this. But there had to be something, didn’t there?”
“I don’t know either, Emma, but I’m telling the truth and I can hope is that you believe me. I want to take you away from all this, to finally have a stable life and a family with you. I really am sorry about your mother- “
“You weren’t even there when she died. I couldn’t give her a funeral or anything. I was in a coma when she passed, I woke up an orphan and was shipped off to the first home that would take me.” Emma blurted, tears budding in the corners of her eyes as she snapped her head up to him. “You claim to be of blood, but why weren’t you there to claim me at least? I could’ve forgiven you for not being there for my mother or all these years had you shown up that day I had woken up. There was no one on record for me. Why is that? If you’re family, shouldn’t you have been on record?”
His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to speak, but just like Emma had been, he was rendered speechless. He closed his mouth once again and burrowed his eyebrows to contemplate what he wanted to say before actually saying it.
“I-I don’t know what to say, Emma. I really am truly sorry for that. I was afraid you wouldn’t believe me, then again maybe things would’ve been a lot better had I gone to claim you. That was my mistake.”
She wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand before traitorous tears could fall down her cheeks and drew in a shaky breath, looking away from his as she crossed her arms over her chest once again. “I still don’t believe you.”
“You don’t have to right now but give me a chance. There’s a lot of proof of our family at the Academy, I can prove everything I claim to you there. I promise that.”
She shrugged, looking at the ground, anywhere to avoid his gaze. She didn’t want to see her mother’s eyes on him again and explode into another round of tears that this time would most likely actually come out.
Even if he was telling the truth, there had to be a reason she hadn’t known about him. Her mother had obviously not wanted her to associate with him. She didn’t know why, but if she had done so hard to keep away from him, then she obviously did not want her going with him. How could she trust him knowing her mother didn’t want her around him?
“I’ll go. I’ll be back in the morning for your answer. Please, just sleep on it. Call me if you decide tonight though.”
She blinked and looked up, finding the area in front of her empty. Only the haunting image of her mother’s eyes lingered behind.
That night had her thinking over everything the man had told her. She was against just up and trusting him. She knew better then to trust a complete stranger. There had been a reason her mother had kept them away from him but lying in this bed and being shipped from home to home was getting her nowhere close to any answers she desperately wanted, that she needed. So, did she really want to take a chance on this man, just by his word to find out what she badly wanted to know? How did she even know he was telling the truth, saying he could provide her the answers she badly wanted about her mother? He could be spouting lies she was desperate to hear in order to get her to go with him.
But something in her heart tugged, pulling at a little voice in the back of her head. Telling her that it was okay to trust him, even if just a tiny bit of trust. She didn’t have to one hundred percent, but a tiny little portion was enough. She could get out of this hellhole for once and for all.
A cool breeze swept over her, shaking the curtains, disturbing her thoughts. Emma shivered and pulled herself to a sitting position, crawling over to the window and yanked down the glass. Just an hour previously, her roommate, who was still mad at her for ruining her attempt at running away, had decided she was going to sneak and head to some party she’d heard about. Emma was supposed to be her lookout and while she had promised she would be just to get the girl ou
t; she didn’t really care if she got caught. After all, she was leaving soon. Just where she wasn’t sure yet. Her social worker had called and put off their appointment, which made the meeting with the man, Marcus, that much weirder.
Rolling out of her bed, Emma got up and tip toed to the door, peeking out. It was silent, the tv long off as the foster parents had retreated to bed. She slipped out of her room and walked quietly to the kitchen, glancing around to make sure no one was around. When satisfied she was alone, she pulled the business card from her pocket and leaned towards the window that shone through with moonlight, reading the numbers to herself as she picked up the cordless phone and dialed it.
Four
The castle loomed overhead, just as the picture had shown her. Except this time, there was no fog rolling across the grounds. It was too sunny out and Emma guessed the picture had probably been taken during the wintertime, or maybe even fall. Maybe just at night? Whatever time would’ve created a fog that reminded her eerily of a cemetery at night on horror shows that depicted its creepiness all to vividly and overdramatically. She had been to cemeteries at night before, overly curious about the whole fog thing and had yet to encounter was full of mysterious fog covering the undead waiting to grab at her from beneath their graves.
As they crossed the threshold onto the ground of the castle, driving through the gates that the picture hadn’t shown, she felt a slight tingle in the tips of her fingers. She shifted in her seat, leaning towards the window to try and get a better view as the car bounced over small potholes in the dirt ground. As they rounded the bend, what felt like butterflies fluttered in her stomach and a shiver ran down her spine in anticipation. Excitement, nerves bundled together, she couldn’t tell which was which or what belonged to what. All she knew was that the excitement felt like a buzzing joy seeping through her.