Serenity's Deception (Texas Sorority Sisters Book 1)

by Janice Olson

  The name Heritage House was chiseled deep into the ornate Hill Country stone corner post at Elm and High Streets.

  He moved around the corner, made another U-turn, then parked, leaning back against the custom-made headrest feigning sleep with a perfect view of anyone coming or going at the orphanage.

  Chapter 14

  BJ rolled down the window then punched the button to the intercom. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

  “Heritage House. May I help you?” The voice came through the intercom distorted and unfamiliar.

  Too late. She didn’t recognize who spoke but why would she. After so many years, staff would have changed.

  “Ah-h, hi. I’m BJ-Billy Jo Spencer. I’m a former resident of the home. I don’t have an appointment, but I’m wondering if I might be able to speak to the headmistress or the person in charge?”

  Nothing but dead air. Not a yes or a no. Was the person going to ignore her completely? Maybe there had been a disconnect. Before she could reach for the gearshift to back out of the drive, the grinding sound of a motor and the squeaking hinges alerted her she hadn’t been ignored after all.

  “W-ell. I guess Igor decided to let me in.”

  A chill attached to her bones. The whole scene played out like something out of an old Dracula movie. Funny. She’d never thought of Heritage House in any way sinister. But her active imagination was working overtime today.

  She eased her Jeep through the opening. In the mirror she witnessed the gate shut behind her, the clank echoing finality. An eerie certainty that her future had just been decided washed over her, twisting her gut. Back to where it all began for her thirty-one years ago except a fatalistic notion surged through her … this time she wouldn’t be able to escape.

  The old stigma of being an orphan, the taunting, the wondering who she was, all rose up to choke and smother her. Weakness and dread overwhelmed her until she berated herself for allowing the home to affect her so.

  Another time when she was less tired would have been better to visit the place. However, after the meeting and the pressing issues of making a decision, now was her only choice.

  The short drive brought old memories flooding back. She, Billy Jo Spencer, had lived … no existed here. A name. A face among those coming and going, yet different, no one ever wanted her. The dream of being part of a family—someone’s daughter—something she had never experienced.

  Like all orphans at Heritage, the town’s children loved to poke fun and taunt her about her questionable parentage. Little Orphan Annie. Trash. Gutter rat.

  She winced; surprised the names could still hold power over her. The taunts she’d blocked out of her mind and hadn’t thought of them in years. As far as she was concerned, those names, gestures, and derisive terms had been expunged from her mind, or at least she’d imagined them to be.

  Does one ever truly purge targeted cruelties? Or do malicious deeds live on forever to be pulled out at a moment’s notice to continue to inflict pain? I pray not.

  The images and words wouldn’t be banished, and the dark, painful opening of the past threatened to swallow her whole.

  Remember the good times. Randi. Miranda Sue Walker.

  BJ smiled at the thought of her dearest friend. A scrawny, spitfire girl. Freckles on almost every inch of her body. Deep-red hair that later turned to a much-envied auburn. From day one, she didn’t want to be called Miranda or Mandy. Randi’s the name—she’d say to anyone who asked or didn’t ask. She’d challenge any kid who called her by any other name. Too often she received punishment for not answering when her given name was used.

  From the minute Randi bounced into BJ’s life, she brought sunshine to her otherwise drab existence. The headmistress often called the two of them the scourge of the earth and the bane of her existence.

  Once the girls, as Randi and she were called, got acquainted, they became inseparable. After school and chores they would run off to their room or out in the backyard away from prying eyes and listening ears to make secret plans for their future—their escape.

  Randi, a rich explorer and adventurer.

  BJ, a small home with a picket fence and Prince Charming.

  But their secret plans had never included a return to Serenity, and definitely not Heritage House.

  The front door swung open. A woman in her fifties stepped over the threshold and stood primly on the porch, hands together at her waist. BJ didn’t recognize her, but by the keys dangling from her belt, knew this must be the headmistress, the one in charge.

  Her unsmiling face and black hair, along with the navy dress against her pale-white features, made the woman seem harsh and lifeless. Her thin, straight nose gave her an air of superiority, and the haughty lift of her chin caused her skin to be drawn tight over sharp angles of chin and cheekbones.

  Though BJ refused to flinch, dark eyes seared holes through her. The desire to turn and run for her life brought on a silent lecture for such childishness. Behave. She isn’t Elvira or Dracula’s bride. She can’t keep you against your will.

  BJ disliked people who made snap judgments of others. Yet here she stood, doing just that. But she couldn’t help herself. This woman’s severe features had already tainted her impression to the true person she might be inside. One thing for sure, she was glad the lady wasn’t headmistress when she lived here. If the woman had been, she and Randi might not have survived through junior high, let alone high school.

  BJ, determined to find a redeeming quality, smiled. “Hello. I’m BJ Spencer. I used to live—”

  “Yes, I’m well acquainted with who you are.” Her eagle eyes blinked once then took in BJ’s appearance with a slight flaring of her nostrils. “I’m the headmistress Ms. Blackthorn.”

  Why am I not surprised. No doubt, to become the thorn in my side.

  That’s uncharitable.

  “If you’ll follow me, please.”

  BJ stepped over the threshold. Lemon oil mingled lightly with the aroma of food. Lifting her wrist. 4:45. The children would gather for dinner at five. Another time might have been better but her need to see Heritage weighed heavy in her decision.

  Everything looked the same as when she’d snuck out that fateful night in June and was driven out of town. In the middle of the foyer sat the large oval table beneath the shimmering crystal chandelier. On the tabletop, a tall, full bouquet of flowers, no doubt from the garden, gave a hint of beauty and color to the otherwise austere entry. The oak hardwood floors shined, and the clean staircase runners were the same except a little more threadbare. No change had been made to the room.

  Almost as if she’d never left.

  A movement at the top of the staircase landing caught BJ’s attention. A sparkly-eyed, curious cherub, with long, blonde pigtails, face scrunched tight against the oak newel posts, watched from on high. However, when she saw BJ glance in her direction, her little mouth formed an O and she ducked back out of sight.

  BJ remembered doing the very same thing every time the house had visitors or new children were delivered. She also recalled reaping the punishment when caught.

  Ms. Blackthorn led her down the hall to the back of the house to the office, known to Randi and her as inner sanctum. The only time either of them visited this room had been for an infraction of rules and ultimate punishment.

  The headmistress motioned to a chair facing the desk as she continued around behind the desk to sit down.

  “Ms. Blackthorn, the reason I’m here is to take a look over the orphanage. It’s not public knowledge, but I’ve been asked to become the overseer and sit on the Board of Directors for Heritage House. I haven’t accepted the position yet. However, to help make my decision, I’d love to tour the home this afternoon. Maybe even meet with some of the staff, if that’s permissible.”

  BJ watched the woman closely for shock or dismissal of the news. Not one muscle, one eye twitch, not even one blink. The woman was too good at hiding her true feelings and closing off her thoughts.

  “Yes.
Mr. Hampton called earlier and said this might be the case, and I should ready myself for your visit.”

  BJ knew she should be glad that Horace T. had prepared the way for her, instead she stewed inwardly that her visit had been preempted and forewarned. She was beginning to like Horace T. less and less. He couldn’t keep from meddling or being the one in charge.

  Ms. Blackthorn stood. The keys dared to jingle at her waist. She placed a quieting hand to the noise, lifted an ornate watch hanging around her neck, giving it a quick glance before allowing the watch to rest between her small bosoms once again.

  “The children will be called in for dinner in precisely thirteen minutes. We will have that short time to partially show you around the facilities. Would you care to join us for supper? I will have a place set at the head table.”

  BJ wanted to scrunch her nose, but didn’t. “No. I won’t have time. But thank you for the invitation. Maybe I could take the suppertime to look more fully around the house and grounds. That way I wouldn’t interrupt dinner for you or the children, and since I’m already familiar with the facility I won’t need a guide.”

  She witnessed a slight flicker of what? Compliance? Defiance? BJ wasn’t certain, but it was there for only a brief moment before Ms. Blackthorn’s placid look was back in place.

  “I’ll see to it that you have access to all rooms and storage before I sit down with the children.”

  When BJ arrived at the front door, she really hadn’t known what to expect, but this type of cooperation wasn’t what she’d envisioned.

  The tour held no surprises for BJ. From all appearances, the place was clean and ran efficiently under Ms. Blackthorn’s management. The children were well behaved, offering the expected Yes, ma’am. No, ma’am. Shy smiles from the very little ones, and nice to make your acquaintance from the older ones. But the dull look, the lackluster look in their eyes was shocking. Almost as if they had no expectations for a future.

  Did I look that void of feeling and hope?

  Chapter 15

  Oops. Sa’wee” The little curious cherub from the landing earlier screeched to a halt in front of BJ, bumping into her legs. The child almost toppled to the floor. Curious, sky-blue eyes, big, round with fright, looked up into BJ’s face.

  “Hi. What’s your name?” BJ gave the child a smile, doing her best to put her at ease.

  The little towhead glanced away for the length of time it took to look around the hallway then back up at BJ. A tentative smile tipped her lips. “My name’s Jenny. I’m thix and a half.”

  BJ hunched down eye level with Jenny. “My, that’s impressive. I would have thought you were at least seven years old.”

  Jenny giggled.

  “Hi Jenny, I’m BJ Spencer. Nice to make your acquaintance.” She stuck out her hand.

  The child’s eyes sparkled. A huge grin appeared, punctuated by dimples on each side. Her mouth displayed two missing front teeth, with a nubbin of white visible in the gap. Her warm, little fingers slipped into BJ’s. “Nith to make your ’quain’anth, ma’am.” She gave one quick shake before her arm dropped to her side.

  The loss of the delicate hand and baby soft skin gave BJ a longing she didn’t want to examine.

  “Are you on your way to supper?” Five minutes ago BJ and Ms. Blackthorn had parted at the dining room entrance. She knew the little girl would be considered tardy by now.

  “Uh-huh.” Jenny glanced around. “I’m late.”

  “Oh.” BJ gave her an understanding nod.

  For a brief second, worry flittered across Jenny’s face.

  “Would you like me to walk you to the dining hall? I’ll let Ms. Blackthorn know you were with me.”

  “Uh-huh.” Apparently remembering her manners. “Yeth, ma’am. Are you eating too? We’re havin’ ba’scetti. It’s my favorite.” Jenny slipped her hand into BJ’s and began tugging her down the hall.

  “Spaghetti is one of my favorites too.” BJ grinned down at the little pigtailed, bouncing head intent on dragging her toward the great hall. “But I can’t stay tonight.”

  “Penny likes mac’n cheese best. Says ba’scetti’s messy. But not me. She’s oldest. I’m youngest. Ms. Blackthorn says Penny and me’s going to different mamas and papas. No one wants two little busy girls. We’re a nu-nuth—We’re a handful, that’s what Maisey says.”

  Jenny’s words stopped BJ dead in her tracks.

  The little one turned displaying a puzzled brow. “Come on. We gotta hurry.”

  BJ didn’t budge even though the little girl tugged harder on her hand. “Jenny, is Penny your sister?” She searched the little face for truth.

  “Uh-h—ah, yeth, ma’am.” She nodded. “We’re twins. Ms. Blackthorn tells Maisey to put blue ribbons on my braids. Penny gets green ones. I wanted green, but Maisey says that’s Penny’s color. That’s how she can tell us apart. Penny says she’s taller. I tell her she’s not.”

  Jenny continued to chatter and tug BJ down the hall.

  BJ was still reeling from the matter-of-fact way Jenny spoke of her plight. She and her twin would more than likely be separated if they were adopted. She didn’t like the thoughts of twin separation. That happened once while she lived in the house, one was left behind while the other was adopted. She’d never forget the sadness and the acting out of the one that was left behind.

  In BJ’s judgment, twin separation, or for that matter, sibling separation went far beyond acceptable practice and something that should never be done.

  The clinking of flatware filtered out into the hallway drawing BJ’s attention. Something was missing. The chatter of children’s voices. The rules all rushed back.

  No talking. Remember your manners. You are excused from the table after you have cleaned your plate and only after the headmistress has dismissed everyone.

  All clatter of utensils against plates stopped when Jenny rushed through the door with BJ in tow. Every eye in the room watched the duo. Just as quickly their attention was drawn to Ms. Blackthorn sitting at the center head table on the dais.

  The chair dared to screech as the woman stood. Her stern face and piercing eyes spanned the distance of the duet standing in the doorway. The Jenny dropped BJ’s hand, lowered her face and walked quickly to a seat next to her look-alike with the green-ribbon pigtails.

  No one spoke. No forks moved toward little mouths. Everyone seemed stuck in a time warp, unable to budge.

  BJ stepped further into the dining hall and directed one of her friendliest smiles toward the headmistress then at the children in the room.

  “Ms. Blackthorn, I do hope you will pardon me for detaining Ms. Jenny from her supper. But we met quite by accident, and I got carried away talking and completely forgot the time.”

  The woman looked as though she would like to refute BJ’s excuse for the child, but instead returned a tight smile, her eyes wandering from BJ to Jenny. “As a rule, a tardy child is denied the opportunity to partake of the meal. But since she was detained by you, I will forgive her the infraction this once.” She gave a stern no nonsense gaze to the room at large before turning back to BJ. “Will you be joining us for supper after all, Ms. Spencer?”

  “No. No, thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I must be on my way. Thanks for your kindness.”

  Ms. Blackthorn gave a slight nod of acknowledgement.

  BJ turned to Jenny. “Thank you so much for showing me around, Jenny. I hope to see you the next time I come to Heritage House.”

  Jenny’s little face beamed.

  The sound of Ms. Blackthorn clearing her throat wiped the smile from the child’s face. BJ wished there was something she could do to bring the sunny disposition back, but knew there was nothing, at least not at the moment.

  The impression Jenny left on BJ lasted far longer than she realized it would. After leaving the home, the continued vision of the cherub face made BJ determine to find a home that would adopt both girls. There was something about the child—the spunk, the sparkle, the deep, pretty dimp
les, even the way she couldn’t pronounce some of her letters—endearing.

  With the image came as an unpleasant reminder she’d made the decision to remain childless. To stay single and without children hadn’t come without cost. She’d buried her longings so they wouldn’t rise up to haunt her, but apparently not deep enough.

  Until she learned more about her parentage, having a child wasn’t in the realm of possibility. The devastation of her choice was almost unbearable at times, yet not enough to hunt for the heartless woman that could so easily leave the fate of a newborn to a cold, unfeeling orphanage. That woman, BJ would much rather do without.

  BJ angled her way back onto Main Street to get a better look at the town and take her mind off of the unpleasant decisions ahead. She passed the town square with the bronze likeness of Seth Loveless on Lightning.

  When she came upon Sadie’s Diner, the place looked inviting. Even though BJ’s backbone felt like it sat next to her belly button, she wasn’t about to stop. She’d had enough for one day. Jason, Robby Greene, Ms. Blackthorn, Heritage House, all of it had about done her in. The city of Brenham held far greater appeal. Bigger town, more choices, and no curious stares.

  Before heading out of town, she took another detour, ending on High Street this time. She drove toward First Church. The sight of the white clapboard and hill country stone building with its impressive steeple filled her with warmth and a little hope. First church had always been one of her favorites—beautiful, nostalgic, and where she worshipped when she lived here before. Regardless how many historic churches she came across in her travels, this one stood far out above the rest. Even more so this evening.

  The sun, low in the sky, hid behind tall thunderheads. Sunrays shot upward through holes in the clouds, splaying out, illuminating the church in a shower of bright beams. Unlike the town and Heritage, the austere picture spoke to her of love but most of all, hope.