Aunt Morgan moved to San Diego when she was nineteen. She’d always been quite happy living on Long Island, but when she found out she was pregnant—her happiness vanished.
She’d been dating the neighbor boy, Michael Russo, since the ninth grade; true childhood sweethearts. He’d been in love with her since the day he ran her over with his tricycle at age three. It’s safe to say she played hard-to-get for well over a decade.
Getting pregnant right out of high school isn’t what most girls aspire to. But Aunt Morgan was ready to be a mother, regardless. She would have preferred it happen after they were married, but she was confident it would work out. She was, after all, the eternal optimist in the family.
There was never a doubt in her mind they’d get married someday. When Michael found out she was pregnant, he handled it like a gentleman. A few months later when he found out they were having twins, he was even excited. But once she decided it was time to tell him about her gift—about the whole family’s gifts—well that’s when everything changed.
You see, Michael comes from a strict Catholic family, the kind who aren’t open to other religions or ideas that differ from their own. The Russo’s had always known there was something different about our family, but I don’t think they were ever sure what it was. I imagine we can thank Gram and her eccentric behavior for raising their suspicions. But the minute their greatest fear was confirmed about the “crazies” next-door, all hell broke loose. From that moment on, Michael was forbidden to see Morgan.
The agreement they’d made was that as long as Morgan and Michael stayed apart, they would respect our secret. The family agreed—and Morgan’s world was in turn dismembered.
She would have fought for Michael. But if he didn’t have it within himself to fight for her, then why should she?
After that heartbreaking day, Morgan never spoke to Michael again.
Gram told the Russo’s she’d had a miscarriage and moved to California for college. And all these years later, they’ve never asked anything about her—so no one ever felt the need to tell them she’d actually given birth to healthy twin boys who were the spitting image of their father.
The only thing Morgan could do to escape the pain, was move as far away as she could. At least that part wasn’t a lie. Just like me, Aunt Morgan wanted nothing to do with magic. So much so, I don’t even know what her ability is. No joke. No one’s ever discussed it in front of me. She despises everything it represents after taking away the father of her children—and destroying the love of her life.
Now, the man she hasn’t seen in over twenty-one years is before her—his face appearing just as aghast and frozen in time as hers. You can almost see the life force draining from their stunned bodies.
I open my mouth to speak, but the front door flies open and Dru rushes to her side like Kujo. “Are you okay, Aunt Morgan? I could feel your anxiety the whole way upstairs.” He glares across the street. “We can go in the house if you like. You don’t have to sit out here and subject yourself to seeing him.”
Other than the chirping birds in the background, there’s not another sound for what feels like minutes.
“No. I actually think I do.” She exhales, running her fingers through her flowing dark hair to tame the fly-aways. “If I’m going to be here for any length of time, I’m bound to run into him eventually. It can’t be avoided. I won’t go out of my way to talk to him or anything, but if he seeks me out, I’ll be polite.” Aunt Morgan’s head bobs back and forth between Dru and me. “The truth will come out soon enough. I just need to figure out if I should tell him before the boys come next week, or wait till he sees them first and has a heart attack.” She giggles. “Tough, that just might be fun.”
I know she doesn’t mean it. No matter how much pain he caused, she would never wish anything bad on him. She’s one of the most compassionate people I know. But I’m sure just finding out after all these years he has two grown children, will be hard enough.
He stands there like a limp rag-doll, blankly staring in our direction. The people he’s with continue talking amongst themselves. Oblivious.
“Do you need my help, Aunt Morgan? I can take the edge off if you like?”
“Thanks Dru, but I can handle it. It’s somewhat interesting to see what I feel after so long. I’ve always wondered what it would be like.”
“Okay. I’ll be in the house if you need me, so just let me know if it gets to be too much.” Dru’s shoulders slouch in defeat as he walks back inside.
“I will. Thanks, Dru.”
Realizing she’d applied the brakes to our swinging, she pushes off in one fluid motion to get us moving again. The tension melts from her shoulders, relaxing with each pass through the air.
A deafening silence swells around us.
Her eyes fixate on Michael, with both contempt—and purpose.
I can’t help but wonder if he still looks the same to her, or if he’s changed so much she no longer finds him attractive. Of course, I’d never ask, but the thought still permeates my mind.
We continue swinging, noticing everyone but Michael goes inside the Russo’s house. Just as the front door closes behind the last unfamiliar face, he starts heading our direction without breaking stride.
Holy shit! What’s he thinking?
I lean towards Aunt Morgan. “Should I leave you alone with him?”
“Absolutely not, stay right where you are!” Her voice goes up a few decibels. “I don’t think I can handle a one-on-one just yet.” She puts her hand on top of mine.
She remains impassive, straight face and rigid body. But knowing her as I do, it’s not an easy facade. I’m sure she’s dying inside.
Just ten feet away, the man in question stops short of the porch. His vacuous expression mirrors Aunt Morgan’s, utterly unreadable in its stoicism.
Is it surprise—or pain?
“Hi, Morgan.” He clears his throat. “I heard you were in town. I didn’t believe it, so I had to see for myself.”
Her feet push off a little harder this time, our heads jerking back in response. “Well, now you see.” Her words are so matter-of-fact.
He clears his throat again. “H-How are you, Mo? You look fantastic. Haven’t aged a bit.”
Her eyelids squinch like she’s been stung. “I wish I could return the compliment. I guess time and genetics have not been as kind to you.” She averts his penetrating gaze. “And please don’t call me that. You gave up that right long ago.”
Discomfort crawls through my body as I witness this awkward exchange.
I’ve never felt more out of place. This new side of my aunt is almost cruel. But not that I blame her.
From what I remember, Michael looks pretty much the same to me. His hair’s starting to thin on top, a tad bit of gray in the temple area, but he’s still in good shape. She’s just trying to hurt him, but I can’t tell if it’s working. He remains aloof, completely unscathed by her sharp words.
He lifts his foot up on the first step, leaning his weight on his right knee. “I heard about your dad. Is he okay?”
“He’ll be fine. The Crawford’s are survivors.” She looks past him again, her eyes glazing over.
“Is he still in the hospital?”
She brings her attention back. “Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, he is.” She forces out a breathy sigh. “He’s in a coma, if you must know.”
“Oh. I hadn’t heard that. I’m sorry, Morgan. He’ll be in my thoughts and prayers.” Michael pulls his foot back to the ground, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Thanks,” she replies, her contrived tone unmistakable.
“Well, I don’t want to disturb you and your family. I just wanted to say ‘hi’ and wish your dad well. Take care of yourself, Morgan.”
She ignores his last words.
Michael watches the ground, never lifting his head until he makes it to his parents’ porch. He stops—looks back toward Aunt Morgan—then goes inside. Her apathetic words must have wound
ed him more than he let on.
“Well, that was easier than I thought it would be.”
Kidding yourself much? “Um, are you okay?” I squeeze her knee.
“I’m great. I can handle this. I have, after all, had over twenty-one years to prepare.” She pats my thigh, the corner of her mouth curling up.
“True.” But who’s she trying to convince?
She lets out a breathy sigh. “I was pretty nasty, wasn’t I?”
“Well…you were…cold…and hurt. But he deserves it. You could have been much worse under the circumstances, so he should thank his lucky stars you took it easy on him.”
“That’s why I wanted you to stay. If I was alone with him, I can’t even imagine what would have come out of my mouth. There are so many things I’ve imagined saying, but I won’t go there. It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it.” She shakes her head.
“Then I’m glad I could help you take the high road. Well, a little higher anyway.” I nudge her arm. “I had no idea you had that in you. You’re such a tough ass. Remind me never to get on your bad side.” We turn to each other and laugh.
“Let’s go inside. We’ve had enough excitement for one night.” Her eyes cross the street one last time.
Gram puts the final touches on dinner. I’m not sure what it is, but the sautéed garlic smells delicious. She’s our culinary master. We used to tell her to open up a restaurant, but she’s convinced if she has to do it every day for tons of people, the enjoyment would be lost. I guess I can see why she’d think that.
We fill Gram in on Michael’s visit while we set the table. She doesn’t say much, but her furrowed brow speaks volumes. I’m sure she’s thinking about next week when the boys get here; what might happen when Michael learns the truth.
Dru and Dhelia make it to the table, so we sit to feast on Gram’s yummy Seafood Fettuccini Alfredo. As everyone loads up their plates, I wonder if this might be the best time to share the news of my vision from last night.
It’s quiet while we eat. Most likely from all the talking throughout the day. We’re discernibly spent.
Yes, this is definitely the right time.
“So, something interesting happened last night. I wanted to tell you earlier, but I decided to wait until everyone could focus on what I have to say.” Four pair of eyes lock on me. “I had a vision. The most amazing vision I’ve ever had.”
I’m already getting choked up, geez.
Dead silence.
They stop eating, waiting for me to continue.
“Mom came to me.” I pause, trying to gage their reactions.
“And? What did she say?” Dru’s mouth hangs open like a rabid dog, Alfredo sauce dripping down to his chin.
I lean back to get more comfortable. “A lot. She wanted to reassure me everything would be okay with Pap, but she also wanted to warn me there would be very difficult things ahead for us.” I pick up my silverware and start cutting my pasta. “She said she’s watching over us, and always has been . . . always will be. And she knew I needed her, which is why she came to me now.” I reach for the pepper, clearing my throat as I load it on. “I asked her why she never came to me right after she died, but she said I didn’t really need her . . . that Aunt Morgan and I were supposed to be there for each other.”
I scrutinize their questioning faces. Their silence. But they’re simply waiting. No sign of disbelief. Not even from Dhelia.
“Go on, dear. Tell us what else she said.” Gram sips her coffee.
“Well, Mom said I made the right choice in leaving, and then she yelled at me for being so hard on myself. For some reason, it was important to her I know how strong I am, but she couldn’t explain why.” I take a drink of water, sudden cottonmouth making it difficult to continue. “She was very mysterious, trying to reassure me and warn me at the same time.” I scan my family’s faces again. “She wants you all to know how much she loves and misses you, and she wants to make sure Pap knows she’s watching over him. She’s his Guardian Angel.”
I regroup my thoughts, only to realize every single one of my loved ones has tear-filled eyes.
“Oh Chloe, that is so wonderful, dear. Why didn’t you tell us first thing this morning?” Gram lays her hand across her heart, as if it’s about to burst.
“I’m sorry. I just wasn’t sure how you’d all react. Or if you’d even believe me.”
Gram shakes her head. “Why would we ever doubt your visions? That’s your gift, dear. They don’t lie.”
“I know, but I’ve done my best to shut them out and ignore them for so long. I just didn’t know what to think.”
Dhelia smacks her lips together, drawing my attention in her direction. “Well did she say anything else? Did she say anything about me or Dru?”
Damn it. Well here goes nothing. “Do you want me to be honest?”
“No, lie to me.” She rolls her eyes. “Of course I want you to be honest, or I wouldn’t have asked!” She leans up on the table with both arms, preparing herself for the unimaginable.
“Okay. Yes, she said more. Mom told me you’d forgive me one day. She said you and Dru have always had each other, but because I lost my twin at birth, I’ve always felt alone. Which is why I needed to be with Aunt Morgan.” I look to my Aunt who bears the exact same face as my mother. “She’s the only one who understood my loss. You see, Mom’s convinced her death brought the loss of my twin to the surface, without me even realizing it. So Aunt Morgan and I needed to help each other get through Mom’s death, or neither one of us would have survived.”
“Oh. I never thought about it that way.” Dhelia looks at both Aunt Morgan and me with a guilt-ridden face. Does she finally understands what it must have been like for me?
“Did she say if you’d see her again, or if she’ll come to us?” Dru wipes his eyes with his T-shirt collar, searching my face for the answer.
“No, she said she’d only come to me if I need her. Though I’m not quite sure what that means.” I pick my fork back up to stir my uneaten food.
“How did she look?” Aunt Morgan’s cheek twitches, a smile trying to make its way to the surface.
“Beautiful. She hasn’t aged a day and she seems so happy.”
“Did she say anything about your father, dear?” Gram taps her plate with her fingernail.
“No, she didn’t. And I never thought to ask. Do you think it means something she didn’t mention him?”
“I’m sure it doesn’t, dear.” But Gram’s crinkled brow says something else. What does she know I don’t?
Dru stands up. “Well, now I understand why you were in such a good mood this morning. It was a bit irritating that I was so cranky while you were so damn chipper. It didn’t make sense at the time…but then I forgot about it with everything else that happened on our way to the hospital.” He shakes his head. “This sure has been quite the day.”
Talk about an understatement.
We laugh. It’s been one thing after another today. Yes, there were good things, but I could do without the perpetual drama.
They continue asking me questions, and I continue giving them answers. They’re almost as excited as I am.
Gram’s happy as well, but unlike the others, she seems a bit distracted as she stares off into space.
Is it because of mom’s message—or Pap’s coma?
But all I want, is for us to enjoy this gift we’ve been given. We can worry about the future, later.
Tethered (A BirthRight Novel #1) Page 10