The Complete Legacy Series: Books 1 - 6

by Paula Kay

  “What?”

  She looked in the direction that Thomas had pointed and just as quickly looked back at him, feeling her face grow warm. Isabella wasn’t used to male attention, even though Thomas was forever pointing out the guys that he said thought she was gorgeous. He said that was one of the qualities that he loved most about her. That even though Isabella was by far the prettiest girl in their class—his words, not hers—she was the most unassuming girl that he knew. He said the other guys liked that about her as well.

  Isabella didn’t know about all that. What she did know was that she did not have time for a serious relationship, so she was never really that interested in talking to new guys. Besides, she had Thomas to hang out with, and she wouldn’t trade the time they spent together for anything or anyone.

  “Oh, stop. No one’s looking at me.”

  “Sure, whatever you say, Ms. Ice Queen.” He winked at her and she bristled just a tad.

  “Stop. I’m not. Do you really think I have time for guys right now?” Thomas was looking at her with that funny expression again—the one that made her uneasy because she knew he was about to say something serious to her.

  “Isabella, you really need to loosen up, ya know. No one our age should be so serious all the time.”

  “I’m not serious all the time.”

  “Most of the time you are.”

  “But not always with you. Come on, Thomas, you know that.”

  “I do. I do know that. I’m not trying to give you a hard time, honest. I just care about you. I want you to be happy, home fry.” He laughed.

  “Speaking of fries…”

  “Double with extra chili and cheese?”

  She nodded. Now that track was over, she hadn’t been so strict with her diet—or her running schedule, which she did intend to get back to. She could already feel herself putting on a little weight; she didn’t mind so much in that regard, but she didn’t want to get too far away from her routine.

  “So, my parents told me last night that they want to help me buy a car—which, by the way, is another reason why Europe would be hard for me this summer—I need to put all my extra cash toward it too.”

  “Oh yeah? That’s cool. What are you gonna get?”

  Like those of so many of their classmates, Thomas’s parents were wealthy. Many of the kids at their school drove BMWs or expensive SUVs. Thomas had had his own BMW since he’d turned sixteen and got his driver’s license.

  “Oh, you know. Just something practical—small, good on gas mileage so that I can drive it to and from school when I wanna come home.”

  “Okay, and?”

  “And what?”

  “Are you planning to come home a lot?”

  “No. I don’t think so anyway. No more than the school holidays and the occasional long weekend, I suppose. But…”

  Thomas looked at her, neither of them speaking for several seconds.

  “But what?”

  “I dunno. I just think it’s gonna be hard on my mom when I leave.”

  “I’m sure it will be.”

  Thomas thought that Isabella worried about her parents way too much. He didn’t understand it, and he was forever trying to get her to understand how “normal” parent/kid relationships worked. But Thomas wasn’t an only child. His parents had other kids to think about, where Isabella’s parents had only ever focused on her. He couldn’t understand what that kind of pressure felt like.

  “I think it will be good for them, though. Don’t you? For my parents, I mean. Having me away. Especially my mother, I think.”

  “Probably.”

  Thomas was studying her and it looked like he wanted to say more.

  “What? Something on your mind about all that?” She smiled, encouraging him to go on.

  “Yeah. I was just going to say—speaking of your mother—have you given any more thought to talking to her about your birth mom?”

  There it was. That racing of her heart. Even the thought of it made her feel anxious.

  “Yeah. I’m just waiting for the right time, I guess.”

  “How will you know when it’s the right time?”

  She looked at him across the table, smiling at her slightly as he finished chewing a mouthful of French fries.

  “Good point. I’m not sure. I guess I just have to get up the courage. It’s not easy, Thomas. I mean, I know you think I need to do a better job of communicating with my parents, but it’s a hard thing to bring up. I don’t want to hurt them, and it does feel hurtful.”

  “I know it’s not easy. I just think it’s something that you deserve. Surely your parents have thought about the fact that you might want to know about your adoption—about your birth mother—at some point. I’m sure they won’t be surprised. That’s all I’m saying. I don’t think you give them enough credit sometimes to be able to handle stuff. It’s like you feel this need to protect them and—and it should really be the other way around, Iz.”

  Isabella nodded, trying to think of how to change the subject because thinking about it was making her feel uncomfortable.

  “So, what time are you picking me up tonight for your big celebration dinner?”

  Isabella loved hanging out with Thomas’s family. His parents were so relaxed and cool compared to her own. Sometimes she wondered what it would be like to have parents like that. They hadn’t been bothered at all when Thomas came up with the idea of deferring his college enrollment for a year to travel. If fact, the trip had become their graduation gift to him.

  One time when she was over, she saw his parents smoking a joint in the backyard after they thought everyone had left for the evening. Thomas had laughed about it when she told him, saying that they thought they were so sneaky all the time, but he and his brothers knew that they smoked one every weekend.

  “Pick you up around seven?”

  Isabella nodded. “Sounds good. The usual?”

  She suspected that they’d be going to the fun Japanese-style place where they sat around watching the chef do fun tricks with his knives and their pieces of shrimp. She loved going there almost as much as she loved eating at Angelica’s.

  “Yep, the usual alright. Come hungry.”

  They both laughed as they finished the last of their fries and Cokes.

  Chapter 5

  Isabella took the piece of paper that Ms. Carlson was handing her as she made her way to take a seat in the small office. She’d been thinking about her last meeting all week and had decided that she was going to ask her if there was any way that the counselor would consider meeting with her over the summer. She wasn’t used to asking for help when it came to her anxiety and emotional issues, but now that she had found some, she was reluctant to let it go.

  “What’s this?”

  “Read it.”

  Ms. Carlson had a huge smile on her face as she brought two bottles of water over from the small fridge in the corner of the room.

  Isabella read the single sheet of paper in her hand.

  “Wait. What? I won?”

  It was a letter about the short story contest she’d entered.

  “You did, Isabella. You won first place in the whole country. It’s really pretty fantastic, you know.”

  Isabella felt herself grinning. “Wow. I don’t know what to say. I’m so surprised.”

  “I spoke with Mr. Reyes and he says that you’re the first student from here to have ever won, or to even place in the top ten. He’s quite pleased with himself for recognizing your talent.”

  Mr. Reyes had been one of her favorite teachers in high school. She’d loved everything about his class and had learned a lot from him, not only to do with her writing, but her confidence with her writing as well. When he’d approached her about the contest, she’d entered because he’d seemed so enthusiastic about it. She had never even considered she might have a shot of winning.

  “Wow, it says here that I’ve won five thousand dollars. Is that true?”

  The trip to Europe falling into her l
ap? Or more likely, money toward her car so her parents could get some of their travel fund back.

  Ms. Carlson nodded. “Yes, you’ll be getting a check in the mail within a few days. I’m very proud of you, Isabella. I hope you realize what a big deal this is—how good you are.”

  Isabella smiled in response. Ms. Carlson had been so supportive of her.

  She did know that she was a good writer. Well, she hadn’t known for sure, but this past year she’d gotten a lot of feedback from Mr. Reyes and a few other people in her life, including Ms. Carlson.

  Thomas thought she was a good writer too, and he used to always give her grief about her aspirations to become a lawyer instead of doing something with her writing. But Isabella didn’t even know what “doing something with her writing” looked like. It was so much more vague than the path to becoming a lawyer, and Isabella didn’t really deal well with “vague.”

  Isabella settled back into the chair.

  “Thank you—for the news and for all your support. Really. It means a lot to me. I’m not sure I would have survived this past year without your help.”

  “You’re welcome. It’s been my pleasure. In fact, I wanted to mention to you that I’m happy to get together once in awhile over the summer if you think that’s something that would be helpful to you.”

  “Yes!”

  They both laughed as Isabella continued.

  “I mean, I’d love that. I’ve been thinking a lot about our weekly meetings ending and I was going to ask you the same thing, actually. I’m doing so much better, but I’m kinda anticipating that things could get a little tough as it gets nearer my time to head to school.”

  “Well, that will work out well then. We can schedule something before you leave here today.”

  “Great.”

  “By the way, I really enjoyed your speech. Were you happy with it?”

  “Yes…”

  “Do I sense a ‘but’ there?”

  “No. I mean, I didn’t forget anything and I think it came across well. I know it sure feels good to have it over with.” She laughed, knowing that Ms. Carlson knew full well the extent of the anxiety she’d been feeling over delivering the speech.

  “Have you been doing the journaling exercises?”

  “I have, yes.” Isabella laughed. “You’ve inspired me to take my journaling to a whole new level. It has really helped me to write down my feelings, as you’ve taught me—to become more present with myself. I think I’m making some good progress anyway. Maybe one day, I’ll be slightly less of a freak.”

  She meant it more as a joke, but even as the words left her mouth, she knew it wasn’t funny. But she did feel like a freak at times, so unlike most of her peers who didn’t have a care in the world. She felt tears stinging behind her eyelids and it made her angry that she was so emotional all of a sudden.

  “Isabella, is that what you really think?”

  Ms. Carlson’s voice was quiet, and she slid a box of tissues across the coffee table in front of where Isabella sat.

  “No. At least not most of the time. I just wish that I didn’t worry so much about things. I wish I trusted myself more.”

  “What do you mean? What don’t you feel like you trust yourself about?”

  “I used to—trust myself in regards to the decisions I’ve been making. But I realize more and more that I’ve been looking at everything through the eyes of my parents—with only thoughts about what they think and what will make them happy.”

  “And why do you think that is? That you have such a drive to please your parents?”

  “I’m sure it has something to do with my being adopted. I guess I’ve just always felt that I needed to overcompensate in some way—so that they’d not be sorry that they’d chosen me or something.”

  Isabella laughed because she knew it sounded absurd when she said it out loud and it wasn’t exactly what she meant—what she felt. She knew that her parents loved her and that they’d never regret adopting her, no matter what she did or didn’t do. They’d both be horrified to hear her say such a thing. She was sure of that.

  “Isabella, are you questioning your decisions about Harvard?”

  “Oh, no. Not at all. That’s not what I mean.”

  Ms. Carlson, probably more than anyone, had seen how shocked Isabella had been when she’d received the scholarship to the college of her dreams. She’d be crazy not to accept it, period. There was never a question about her going or not.

  “Okay, so what do you mean?”

  “I guess I’ve just been more aware lately about what others are doing and the excitement they’re feeling—like Thomas, for example, who couldn’t be more excited about his upcoming travel plans. I just feel like something is missing for me. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but do you think it’s normal that I’d have doubts?”

  Ms. Carlson was smiling at her. “Do I think that it’s normal for an eighteen-year-old girl who’s just graduated from high school to not know exactly what her future is going to look like?”

  “Say no more. Point taken.” Isabella laughed. “I dunno. I guess it just feels odd to me because I’ve always known that I was going to be a lawyer. It’s all I’ve ever talked about with my parents—it’s everything that we’ve”—she caught herself—“that I’ve been working toward.”

  “But is that what you want, Isabella? To be a lawyer?”

  Isabella reached for another tissue to wipe at the new tears that had started.

  “I think so. I’m not sure what else I would do.”

  “Well, you know what?”

  “What?”

  “You don’t have to know exactly what you want to do right now. You’re so young, and you have a lot of time and experiences ahead of you. Maybe you need to give yourself a little break, Isabella.”

  She nodded her head because somewhere deep down she knew that Ms. Carlson’s words rang true with her. She did need to give herself a break and maybe not take things quite so seriously. Maybe that was what she should spend the next few weeks working on—learning how to relax a little bit. And she could enjoy a few weeks with Thomas before she got busy with the internship. He’d like that. And she could write. Even the idea of that made her smile.

  She turned her attention back to Ms. Carlson. “Yes, I think you’re right. I think I just need to clear my head. With no tests, track meets, or speeches, maybe I can actually enjoy the start to the summer.”

  “I like that idea. Perfect. So, just don’t go finding things to worry about, okay?”

  Isabella laughed. She liked their teasing banter. She trusted Ms. Carlson—probably more than she trusted anyone in her life right now—other than Thomas, of course.

  They agreed that Isabella would contact Ms. Carlson when she wanted to set up a next meeting and that they could do so at one of the local coffee shops, now that school was out for the summer.

  Isabella left the meeting feeling a sense of lightness that she’d not felt for a very long time. She knew that it was normal for girls her age to question themselves—to question who they were in the world. But she also suspected that it might be a common thread among those who were adopted to have even more challenges about this topic. Who could blame her for feeling like she didn’t really know herself at all sometimes?

  Not knowing her future was really only one half of the puzzle for Isabella. Deep down, she knew that she had a need to know her past—where she came from. If she thought about it for long at all, she felt that it was the key to the uneasiness that she felt so often—this feeling of not quite belonging, of not quite knowing her place in the world.

  Maybe during these next few weeks, she’d actually muster up the courage to talk to her parents again about the adoption. She knew that it was possible that they didn’t have any real useful information for her, but she also knew that at eighteen, there were some options available to her now for trying to find some of those answers herself. She only really wanted their blessing with it all—that was the best she’d hop
e for anyway.

  Chapter 6

  A few days had passed since Isabella had found out that she’d won the fiction contest and still she’d not told her parents. Thomas was right in that it was slightly insane. She should be proud and they should be proud. Why did she think that they wouldn’t be?

  She walked downstairs to find her mother behind the desk in her office.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Hi, sweetie, what’s up?” she said, barely glancing away from her computer.

  “Not much. Where’s Dad?”

  “I don’t know. He said something about needing to run some errands.” Her mom stopped typing to look over at Isabella as she nestled down in her favorite chair in the corner of the small room. She had memories of sitting there with her coloring book as a child “doing work” while her mother sat at the desk doing her own work.

  “Is everything okay? Something you want to talk to us about?”

  Isabella nodded. “Yeah, I have some good news, I guess.”

  Her mom got up and walked over to sit in the chair opposite her daughter.

  “I like good news.” She smiled, teasing her. “Does it have anything to do with Harvard?”

  Isabella shook her head. “No. Not really.”

  “Well, spill it. Come on. Don’t keep me in suspense.”

  Isabella held up the typewritten papers she held in her hand—five pieces of paper, held together by a paper clip, that comprised the short story that had won her a national honor and five thousand dollars.

  “I won a contest—for my writing. It’s a short story.” She couldn’t help but grin as she handed the pages to her mother. “You can read it if you like.”

  Please love it.

  Her mother took the pages from her. “Honey, that’s great. Why didn’t you tell us that you’d entered something? What did you win?”

  Isabella felt her face grow warm and she wasn’t sure why she was feeling embarrassed.

  “I won first place, actually. And it was a national contest.”

  She should be proud, and she was proud of it. It was kind of amazing to have her writing validated in this way—just because it was something that she loved.