by I. T. Lucas
She let him help her to the bed, but then lifted her hand. “Please. I need to be alone for a little bit.”
“I understand.” He didn’t, but he did as she asked nonetheless.
She should have been overjoyed, her tears should have been of happiness and not of devastation.
The front door opened a crack, and Anastasia poked her head inside. “Is it safe to come in?”
“Yeah.” He walked to the refrigerator and pulled out a beer.
“What happened?” Leon asked.
“You’re not going to believe it.” Bowen gave them a quick summary, omitting many of the details he thought Margaret would prefer to keep private.
“I’ll be damned.” Leon shook his head. “How did I miss it? She looks a lot like Wendy.”
“Who’s Wendy?” Anastasia asked. “I mean apart from being Margaret’s daughter, who I never knew existed.”
When Leon was done telling his mate an abbreviated version of Wendy’s story, Anastasia walked to the kitchen, pulled out a bottle of wine, and uncorked it. “Let me handle this.” She took a glass, filled it to the brim, and took it to Margaret’s room.
“Let’s give them some privacy.” Leon pulled out a beer for himself and headed out the front door.
As Bowen followed, he heard Anastasia huff out, “Oh, Margaret, just stop it and grow a set. Bowen has a lot he can tell you about Wendy.”
Closing the door, he didn’t hear Margaret’s response.
“Congratulations.” Leon offered him his hand. “You found your mate.”
Bowen shook it. “Who would have thought that when I gave Wendy fatherly advice, I would one day become her stepdad.” He grimaced. “Not that it’s going to happen anytime soon. Margaret is too fragile to handle any more surprises right now, and I don’t know whether she should even attempt transition in her state.”
“The timing is actually perfect.” Leon leaned against the railing and crossed his legs at the ankles. “The Clan Mother is here for the wedding and birthday celebrations, and she’ll still be here two weeks from now. If you hurry, Margaret could enter transition while Annani is still here, and if things turn south, the Clan Mother can give her a blessing.”
“The blessing is good only for giving the mates hope.” Bowen took a long swig from his beer. “It doesn’t do shit for the transitioning Dormant.”
“I disagree. Each time the Clan Mother has given her blessing, the Dormants have enjoyed a miraculous recovery. Coincidence? I think not.”
Bowen shrugged. “Nothing is going to happen between Margaret and me during the next two weeks. I just can’t bring myself to make a move on a woman recovering from surgery. The cast needs to come off first.”
Surprisingly, Leon nodded in agreement. “It didn’t occur to us before, but we should have remembered that the body needs to be healthy before transition can occur.” He lifted his bottle in a salute. “But at least you can now tell Margaret the truth and bring her to the village. There is no doubt that she’s a Dormant.”
If only things were as simple as that. Bowen had thought that he understood people, men and women, but he hadn’t foreseen Margaret’s reaction. Her response to his declaration that they had found love in the cabin had been to start sobbing. She hadn’t denied it though, so maybe she felt the same and had just gotten overly emotional.
“I can’t tell Margaret anything right now because she’s already overloaded and won’t be able to process it. The problem is that she wants to return to Safe Haven tomorrow, and I can’t let her do that.” He shook his head. “Well, I can, but I will have to go with her, and she doesn’t want me to.”
“Why the hell not?”
“She thinks that she’s not good enough and I don’t know how to convince her otherwise.” He took a long swig from the beer, emptying it. “I’ve never had problems with women. I thought I understood them, but apparently I’m just as clueless as the rest of my gender.”
Leon nodded in commiseration. “Maybe she needs more time. She’s just learned that her daughter is within reach, and then you drop the love thing on her. It was too much?”
“I thought that you and Anastasia were giving us privacy.”
“We tried, but other than sticking fingers in our ears, we couldn’t help hearing you talk.”
The door opened and Anastasia stepped out, holding the half-empty glass of wine in her hand. “Margaret has calmed down a little, but she wants to stay in her room and think. She says she’s not ready to face Wendy.” Anastasia joined Leon, leaning against the railing. “She’s scared that Wendy will reject her.”
“It’s possible,” Leon said.
Bowen frowned. “Do you think that I should talk to Wendy first? Explain why her mother never contacted her?”
Anastasia shook her head. “It’s Margaret’s story to tell.”
“But she doesn’t know the whole story, and if I don’t tell her about Emmett, she won’t know it before talking to Wendy.”
“What does Emmett have to do with anything?” Anastasia asked.
“He compelled her to be terrified of looking for her daughter.”
“Are you sure?” Leon asked.
“Every time I mentioned searching for information about Wendy on the internet, Margaret had a panic attack. Maybe that’s why she’s so scared of meeting her.”
“We need that guy who helped Peter,” Anastasia said. “He can remove the compulsion like he did for him. If it’s still messing with Margaret’s head, no wonder she’s so spooked.”
Bowen pushed away from the railing. “I need to check with Kalugal to see if he’s willing to do it. He’s a character, and he might demand my firstborn in exchange for the favor. But maybe he can do something over the phone. A video call should be enough.”
71
Margaret
Margaret had stopped crying long enough for Ana to leave, but as soon as the door closed behind her friend, she grabbed a pillow and pressed it to her face to muffle her sobs.
It was hard to breathe, but she welcomed the suffocating sensation. If only she was strong enough to go all the way and end her miserable life.
How could she possibly face Wendy? She wasn’t strong enough to survive her daughter’s anger, her anguish. It would have been so much better for Wendy to believe that her mother was dead.
That was what she probably believed already, no doubt thanks to Roger, and she’d made peace with that, laid it to rest. Digging up her not-so-dead mother would only cause her pain.
Wendy would wonder why Margaret had left her, and why she hadn’t cared enough to come back to check on her.
All the literature that Margaret had read claimed that antagonizing abusers could have catastrophic results, and that it was best to seek shelter before proceeding with legal action. The problem was that sometimes that wasn’t good enough, and the abusers found their victims and hurt not only them but also the people who sheltered them.
But those were all excuses, and Wendy would be justified in scoffing at them.
Had Roger abused Wendy as well?
He’d loved her as a baby, so perhaps he hadn’t, and Wendy had grown up in a decent home? Maybe Roger had divorced Margaret in her absence and married the nanny? She’d been kind to Wendy. She would have made a good stepmom.
Nevertheless, Margaret should have fought for her daughter and not run away like a spineless coward, hiding away and hoping that Roger and Wendy thought her dead, convincing herself that it was best for everyone’s sake that they did.
When the bed dipped on her left side, Margaret nearly jumped out of her skin. With the pillow over her head, she hadn’t heard the door open.
“I brought you tea,” Bowen said.
She clutched the pillow to her face. “Please, leave.”
“I’m not going anywhere. Talk to me, Margaret.”
What could she possibly tell him? All she wanted was to be left alone so she could crawl back to her little hidey-hole in Safe Haven, where she was as good as dead to
the rest of the world.
“Don’t you want to meet your daughter?”
Panic seizing her throat in a choking sensation, Margaret flung the pillow away. “Did you tell Wendy about me?”
“No, not yet.”
Letting out a breath, she slumped back on the pillows. “Thank God for small mercies. Don’t ever tell her that you’ve found me. She’s better off believing that I’m dead.”
“How can you say that?” Bowen lifted a corner of the duvet and wiped the tears off her face. “She is getting married in a few months. Don’t you want to be at her wedding?”
Margaret’s eyes widened. “She’s getting married? Is she insane? She’s too young.”
“At her age, you were already a mother.”
She winced. “Yeah and look where it got me. Marrying at eighteen was the worst mistake of my life, and I’m still paying for it.”
“Your mistake was marrying the wrong man. You were just a kid, alone, with no one to guide you, to offer you advice, or to see past Roger’s veneer. You can’t keep punishing yourself for what he did.”
“I’m not punishing myself. I’m trying to save my daughter even more anguish. Believing that her mother is dead is better than knowing she was abandoned.”
“You shouldn’t decide that for her. After hearing your story, she might forgive you or she might not. But I believe she will. Wendy is a good kid. She was a little moody when I first met her, but she’s changed so much after moving in with Vlad. She’s happy.”
“How do you know that? Maybe she’s faking it?”
Bowen shook his head. “She’s not. She doesn’t need to. I know Vlad well, and he’s the kindest, most mellow guy you can imagine. He’s studying to become a graphic artist, and in the meantime, he works part-time in his best friend’s bakery. Wendy works at the village café, so I see her almost every day. There is always a smile on her face. She’s confident, friendly, and everyone likes her.”
Bowen’s description of Wendy’s life eased some of the heaviness in Margaret’s chest. “It sounds like she’s really happy, which is more reason not to dump my existence on her head. The best thing I can do for her is to remain dead.”
72
Bowen
Frustrating woman.
Bowen wished he had some psychological training, something that would help him get through to Margaret. But all he knew was what would have worked for him, and that would probably not work for a woman who’d spent half of her life in hiding, hoping the world had forgotten about her and thought her dead.
Perhaps telling Margaret about her possible immortality and Wendy’s transition would change her perspective? Make her less fearful and more hopeful?
After all, Margaret had lost nearly eighteen years of Wendy’s life, but if she transitioned, she would have eternity to make up for it. Nothing could compensate for Wendy’s entire childhood that she’d missed, but that was water under the bridge.
Margaret had to grow a set, as Anastasia had put it, and face the music.
Since he was taking her with him to the village no matter what, she was going to meet her daughter whether she wanted to or not.
“Then Roger wins.” He thrust the mug at her hands. “Drink.”
She winced, either at his tone or at what he’d said about her ex winning, and then looked at the tea suspiciously. “What’s in it?”
“It’s just tea, but if I could pour courage into it, I would.”
More tears ran down her cheeks as she lifted the mug to her lips with trembling hands, took a sip, and sighed. “How did you meet Wendy? And how did she end up in this cabin with Vlad, you, and Leon?”
Was this progress? Or was it an evasive maneuver to steer the conversation away from facing her daughter?
“It’s a long story, and it’s not mine to tell. Wouldn’t you prefer for Wendy to tell you her story in her own words?”
“I’m terrified,” Margaret admitted. “She might refuse to see me. Or she might agree to meet me only to spit in my face and tell me to go to hell. I deserve both, but I wouldn’t survive it.” She touched a trembling hand to her temple. “Whatever I managed to piece back together with Emmett’s help would shatter. I wouldn’t survive the rejection.”
“I have a friend who might help you.” Bowen pulled out his phone.
He’d spoken with Kalugal, and the guy had graciously agreed to help, telling Bowen to call him when Margaret was ready.
She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk to a shrink.”
“My friend is not a psychologist. He’s a hypnotist and a motivational speaker. He will help you calm down and be less fearful.”
“I don’t want to lean on yet another crutch.”
“It’s not like that. Give him just one minute of your time.” When she kept shaking her head, he added, “For me.”
Lifting her sad eyes to him, she nodded. “I’ll do it for you.”
Bowen dialed the number. “I have Margaret with me here, and you are on speakerphone. Do you need me to activate the video function?”
Margaret’s eyes widened, and she shook her head vehemently while pointing at her face.
“No need. My voice is enough. Hello, Margaret. My name is Kalugal. How are you doing today?”
She sagged. “Hello. I’ve been better.”
“I bet. I want you to listen to me and repeat what I say. Are you ready?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“I have no reason to be afraid. Say it and believe it.”
She whispered it.
“I am surrounded by friends who care for me, protect me, and will not let anything happen to my daughter or me. Say it.”
This time around, her voice was a little above a whisper.
“Now say this. I am strong, I am a survivor, and I can handle anything life throws at me.”
As she repeated the words, out loud this time, Margaret straightened her back.
“That’s it. My job is done,” Kalugal said. “Best of luck with the rest of your life.” He ended the call before Margaret murmured a thank you.
Lifting her eyes to Bowen, she took a deep breath. “He’s really good. I actually feel stronger, more confident.”
Later, after he’d told her the entire story, Bowen would explain what Kalugal had actually done, but for now he was going to take it one step at a time.
“Can I call Vlad now to have him deliver the good news to Wendy?”
Margaret shrank into the pillows, but she didn’t say no. “Does he know about me?”
“Yes. He gave me the address to verify that it was really you. I asked him not to tell Wendy until you were ready.”
“Thank you.” She put the mug on the nightstand and wrung her hands. “Do you think that’s the best way to do it? For her boyfriend to tell her?”
“I’m not sure. Would you like to consult with Anastasia and Leon?”
“Yes, I think that’s a good idea.”
73
Margaret
After washing her face, brushing her teeth, and combing her hair, Margaret felt a lot better. Or maybe it was the result of the short, yet very effective pep talk she’d gotten from Bowen’s friend?
He must be a powerful hypnotist to effect such profound change in less than a minute. For lack of a better description, it felt as if he’d unlocked something inside her, some hidden reserve of courage or maybe zest for life that Margaret had thought was lost forever.
Though still terrified of Wendy’s rejection, she no longer experienced the choking sensation that usually accompanied any thought of contacting her daughter, even checking on her covertly from afar.
When Margaret opened the door and stepped into the living room, her friends were waiting for her with fresh coffee and a plate of sandwiches.
“Feeling better?” Ana asked.
She was sitting in Leon’s lap and looking stupidly happy and in love, especially for someone who was leaving tomorrow and parting with her boyfriend for at least a little while.
&n
bsp; “Much better. Thank you.”
Bowen got up and helped her to the couch.
Glad for the help, Margaret didn’t shoo him away like she usually did. The meltdown and following sobbing fest had left her so exhausted that she could barely hold on to the crutches.
She glanced longingly at the coffee. “I don’t know how Kalugal did it, but I feel like I’ve gotten a new lease on life.”
Bowen poured her a cup, added milk and sugar, and handed it to her. “I’m very thankful that he agreed to help.”
“Thank you.” She took a sip. “What he did for me was nothing short of a miracle. He must be making a fortune selling his services.”
Leon chuckled. “Kalugal is rich enough not to need to sell those particular services, and he’s not kind enough to offer them for free either. You are lucky he’s our cousin.”
“How many cousins do you guys have?”
Ana chuckled. “A lot. They call every extended family member a cousin. I met a few of them, and I can’t wait to meet the rest.” She grinned at Margaret. “I’m moving in with Leon.”
“I thought that you wanted to go back to law school.”
“I might do that later.” She kissed Leon’s cheek. “Maybe I’ll even finish my degree online. I can’t be apart from my one and only, the love of my life.”
As envy and regret gripped Margaret’s heart, she glanced at Bowen, who had an unreadable expression on his face. He’d told her that they had found love in the cabin, and instead of telling him how she really felt about him, she’d had another panic attack and had run off sobbing.
Well, hopped off. She wouldn’t be running anytime soon.
Tearing her gaze from him, she looked back at Ana. “So what do you think? What’s the best way to break the news to Wendy that her mother is not dead?”
Ana leaned against Leon’s chest. “I vote for a surprise reunion. Vlad can bring Wendy over here under false pretense, something about visiting Bowen and Leon for old times’ sake. That way, you get to tell her your story yourself. If I were in Wendy’s shoes, I would like that better. It will spare her all the guessing and agonizing on the way here.”