Trace - Part Two

by Deborah Bladon

  He can't possibly know how much I wish that were true. I want everything that is clouding my life to dissipate so I can breathe again and live. I want to go back to being Vanessa Meyer, the young woman who doesn't have all the answers but is okay with that. My life was so much simpler before I started on my own self-initiated path to find the truth out about my adoption. Looking back now, I realize that not knowing offered a sense of peace that I can't find now.

  "Tell me what time your break is tomorrow." He leans back so he can look at my face. "I want to bring flowers to the hospital."

  "No," I say breathlessly. "You just gave me flowers the other day."

  "I'd give you flowers every day if I thought you'd accept them," he went on, "I know that you wouldn't. You sometimes like to play hard to get with me."

  I like that he sees my reluctance to give in to everything I'm feeling as playing hard to get. "Is that what I'm doing?"

  His brow arches. "I know all your tricks, Nurse Meyer. Soon I'll have you all figured out."

  I lean forward and glide my lips against his knowing that he's very far from figuring me out.

  ***

  "I didn't expect you to come down here, Imogen." I reach across the table to hand her a paper cup filled with hot coffee. "I would have come to your office after work."

  "I feel very badly about the way I handled the news." She shakes a small pink package of artificial sweetener between her fingers before she rips open the edge to pour the white crystals into her cup. "I shouldn't have sent that information in a text. I should have asked if you could meet me today."

  I watch as she twirls a plain, brown stir stick in the coffee. "I was very surprised when I got your message."

  "I could tell that talking about Francesca's death was hard for you." She runs her hand through her long, brown hair as her gaze takes in the faces in the cafeteria around us. "I wanted to look into her estate after you left. I thought it was the prudent thing to do."

  It feels intrusive but I'm the one who went to her in the first place asking for advice. I don't know why I expected her to do nothing given that she's gone out of her way to help Zoe for the past few months. She may have gone snooping into Francesca's financial affairs out of the goodness of her heart, but it's opened a door that I have no intention of walking through.

  "I was shocked that you found out so much so quickly," I admit. "I thought wills were private. I've never had one but I didn't know that just anyone could look at a person's will after they die."

  If she takes any offense at my offhanded remark calling her 'just anyone' she doesn't show it in her expression or in her words. "They can't. Unless a will has entered probate, it's not public record."

  "Her will is in probate?" I should know more about the process given the fact that I'm sleeping with a probate attorney.

  "It's fast, isn't it?" She asks as if I have a firm grasp on what she's talking about. I don't want to delve into my limited knowledge of probate law so I ignore the comment. She doesn't miss a beat as she continues. "You understood the message I sent to you last night, didn't you?"

  "I do understand. Your message said that I'm included in Francesca's will."

  "You are." She blows softly on the coffee before taking a small sip. "This is actually not bad for cafeteria coffee."

  I cock a brow. I try to limit my intake of coffee brewed in the hospital to one cup a day. It's not bad, but it's strong and if I'm not careful, the caffeine boost makes me feel like I'm bouncing off the walls.

  "How is it that I'm included? Aren't most people declared…I mean…well, it's just that I've always heard that after seven years a person who is missing is presumed…" I stammer.

  "Dead?" she interrupts. "Are you asking if Charlotte was presumed dead?"

  Charlotte is dead in my eyes. Connie wishes she were dead so if that legal step has been taken, it would clear up a lot of the confusion I'm currently feeling.

  "Generally that's a step that the courts will take in the case of a missing adult." She sighs heavily. "In the case of missing children, it's rarely done unless there is a life insurance policy or if there's a suspicion of homicide. Neither of those applied in your case."

  I don't know how to react. I can't connect with the persona of Charlotte Tomlin. I've tried but the feeling of being that baby who was abducted is just as foreign to me as the idea of carrying her name. "What does that mean for me?"

  "It means that if you make it known that you believe that you're Charlotte that will set the wheels in motion for you to collect the portion of Francesca's estate that was left in Charlotte's name."

  "What wheels?" I ask hesitantly.

  "This isn't my area of expertise, but I'd imagine that the first step would be a court ordered DNA test to prove your claim."

  I'm not surprised. It's a natural and expected part of the process. "What would happen after that?"

  "I suspect the police would begin an investigation into your disappearance. Ultimately your mother would be charged. As I already explained, I believe they'd be lenient given her condition."

  "Everyone would know what she did?" I narrow my gaze at her. "I wouldn't be able to keep it a secret, would I?"

  "You're the stolen Tomlin baby, Vanessa. If you claim your part of Francesca's estate, every paper in the state will have that story on their front page."

  Chapter 11

  "Do you remember when I was seven and I asked for a dog for my birthday?" I stare out the window towards the brick building next door. There hadn't been any choice of available rooms when my mother first began living in the extended care center. I wanted a room that faced the park across the street, so she could sit by the window and watch the children play but that wasn't possible. She had been assigned this small room at the end of a long corridor. It was acceptable, comfortable and private.

  I hold tightly to the notebook and bracelet as I turn to look at her. I've been in her room for the past twenty minutes. I walked right past where she was sitting in her wheelchair by a small table. The staff put her there each morning before they hand feed her breakfast. She whimpers softly, as she often does, as I move towards her.

  "You told me that the manager of the building wouldn't let us have a pet." I pull out one of the wooden chairs by the table before I sit down. "I was heartbroken over that."

  Her eyes float aimlessly through the air, never settling on anything for more than a few seconds. I don't expect her to look at me. She hasn't in months. Her doctors have told me that it's part of her condition. They've also explained that deep within her mind there may be crevices that can still hold some shallow understanding of what I'm saying to her. That's why I'm here.

  "Do you remember what you did for me?" I push my hand across the table to cover her small, weathered one. She doesn't pull back and I'm grateful for that. "You took me to the animal shelter that was three blocks from our place. You took me there once a week for more than two years so I could play with the dogs, and feed them and brush them."

  A low sound escapes her chapped lips. I stare at her face. Her eyes are vacant and sunken. The once vibrant woman, who would pull me into her arms and twirl me around every day after she came home from work, isn't there anymore. This woman is a tortured and lost soul. She's been carrying a burden too heavy for one person for more than twenty years. Now, she's confined to her own type of prison.

  "I always thought that when I grew up and got my own place that I'd want a dog." I smile softly. "I don't right now. Maybe one day if I have a child I will."

  Her eyes dart quickly around the space. I pull mine down knowing that I need to do what I came here for. I've been avoiding her for almost a week and today I need to put to rest the nagging anxiety that has kept me away.

  "You taught me so much about making the best with what we had." I study her profile. It's changed so much since I was a young girl. "You helped me understand things no one else could have."

  I push the notebook and bracelet towards her. I feel awash with so many emotio
ns that pinpointing any of them is impossible. I weep even before I speak another word to her. I take a heavy swallow and look directly at her face. "I know, mom. I know what you did."

  The only movement she makes is a slight tilt of her chin. She doesn't make a sound. The air is filled with a deafening silence.

  "I went to see her," I say the words quietly and slowly, hoping that she'll absorb even a fragment of what I'm sharing with her. "I went to see Francesca, the woman who gave birth to me."

  I reach inside my purse for a tissue to help stop the flood of tears. "She died, mom. She died just a few weeks before I found her."

  I pat the top of the notebook where the bracelet is sitting. "I have a sister. She's all that's left. She doesn't want anything to do with me."

  "I know you took me because you wanted a baby to love." I pull the bracelet into my palm. "You gave me a beautiful life. You really did."

  Her gaze falls briefly to my face before it slides off into the distance again. I move forward to adjust the collar of the simple, pink, housedress she's wearing.

  "I love you, mom." I brush my lips softly over her cheek. "I forgive you."

  I sob heavily the moment I see a single tear fall from her eye.

  Chapter 12

  "Was Imogen able to offer you any advice?" Zoe leans back on one of the uncomfortable chairs in the staff lounge. "My back is really starting to hurt. I think the baby is going to be fifteen pounds."

  I laugh at the notion of that. "I'm guessing he'll be somewhere in the seven or eight pound range."

  She cocks a brow. "I can't wait to meet him. It's not much longer now."

  "It'll be soon. Is that why you're at the hospital? Is everything okay with the baby?"

  "I'm here to see my best friend." She tosses me a bright smile. "I also had to fill out some paperwork for when I go into labor."

  "You should have told me you were coming by." I motion towards my watch. "I would have planned to have a break so we could have something to eat."

  "I've already had two breakfasts today." She pats her stomach. "My huge baby has an insatiable appetite."

  "Two breakfasts?" I hold up two fingers. "How many lunches are you planning? I have a break in about ninety minutes."

  "I can come back for that." She inches forward on the chair. I can tell it's not doing her posture any favors. I'm not pregnant, and I always feel like I've pulled a muscle in my back when I sit in these chairs. Investing in comfort for the staff isn't a priority in this hospital.

  "Do you want to meet in the cafeteria at one?" I jump to my feet, extending a hand to help her up. "Lunch is my treat today so bring both your appetites."

  "Did Imgoen help you, Van?" She holds my hand tightly as she pulls herself up. "I hope it wasn't too upsetting talking about everything with her."

  "I guess she helped." I shrug my shoulders. "She checked out Francesca's will. Apparently I'm a part of that."

  "What?" Her hand leaps to her chest. "You're actually in her will?"

  "Charlotte is," I clarify. "It really doesn't matter. I'm not pursuing anything to do with that family. Connie is the only one left and the woman made it very clear, that she wants no part of me."

  "I don't think it matters what Connie wants." Zoe reaches behind her to pick up her oversized purse. "I think it's important what Francesca wanted."

  "She's gone. I've accepted the fact that she's gone."

  "She wanted you to have something that belonged to her." Zoe fumbles in her purse for a few seconds before pulling out her smartphone.

  "Money?" I shoot back. "I don't want her money."

  "Is it money?" She glides her finger over the screen of her phone. "What if there's more? What if your mother left you something that's more valuable than money?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "My mother showed me her will." She shakes her head as if to ward off the thought of anything happening to her own mom. "When something happens to her, I inherit photos, some of the books she loves to read, the pieces of art that she saved up to buy. Those are the things that matter."

  "I would love to have something like that." My eyes close briefly. "It would mean a lot to me to have anything that Francesca treasured."

  "You can ask Imogen exactly what the will says." She rests her hands on my shoulders. "It can't hurt to ask."

  ***

  "What made you want to be a probate attorney?" I push my foot against Garrett's under the table in the cafeteria.

  "What made you want to be a nurse?" He pushes back with his shoe more forcefully. "I've wanted to ask you that since I saw you in the ER."

  "Is that a lawyer thing?" I shoot back. "Do you ask a question to avoid answering a question?"

  "It's a Garrett thing," he says, leaning back in his chair. "Being a probate attorney is just a job. It's an area of the law I find interesting. It's nothing like being a nurse."

  "How would you know that? When's the last time you were a nurse?" I tease. "I think what you do is fascinating."

  "Fascinating?" I hear a playful lilt in his voice. "Is that why you can't get enough of me? You think I'm fascinating?"

  "No." I try to contain the smile I know is floating over my lips. "I said that I think your job is fascinating. I didn't say anything about you."

  "You're the fascinating one." He grins. "You're very mysterious. There's something about you that I can't quite put my finger on."

  "You've put your finger, and a lot more, on every part of me."

  "You're making me hard, Vanessa."

  "Zoe is going to be here any minute." I glance towards the entrance of the cafeteria. "There's no time for you to push me up against a wall in a deserted hallway so you can have your way with me."

  "I was thinking more of taking you to a supply closet and sliding my cock down your throat, but I'm game either way."

  I feel the flush that overtakes my face before he sees it. I reach to cover my face with my hand, not wanting him to see the impact that his brazen words have on me.

  "I just stopped by to say hello to the most beautiful woman I know." He pushes the chair back from the table and stands in one fluid motion. "Tonight I'm going to fuck your gorgeous mouth and then," he pauses as he leans down to kiss my cheek. "After that, I'm going to spend the rest of the night making you forget everything but my name."

  Chapter 13

  "I couldn't work at all this afternoon." His voice is raspy, hoarse and rushed. "All I could think about was this. I was so hard thinking about your mouth."

  I'd respond but I can't. I'm flat on my back, Garrett's large frame above me. He's hovering over my chest, his wide thighs on either side of me, as he tangles his fist in my hair and pumps his thick cock into my mouth over and over again.

  "You must be so wet." His head darts quickly to the left as he steals a glance at my nude body.

  I moan around the swollen root. I want to tell him to reach back and touch me. I want to come too but I know that he's chasing his own release. It's been the only thing on his agenda since I arrived at his apartment. My scrubs are on the floor just inside the door. My bra and panties were lost somewhere in the hallway. When he threw me on the bed and held me still while he straddled me, I almost came on the spot. He's so commanding and desirous.

  "Suck it, Vanessa," he growls into the air. "Suck it hard."

  I do. I arch my neck up to take more into my mouth. My eyes are already burning, my throat is on fire. He's pushed himself farther into me than any man has ever been.

  "Fuck, yes," he calls out as I twirl my tongue along the thick vein on the side. "You're so good. You know how to suck cock."

  I move my legs slightly¸ wanting to create enough friction that I can come too. I'm aching. I need to touch my clit. I pull my hands off his thighs but that only brings forth a loud groan and more tension on my hair.

  "Get me off," he commands. "Suck it. I want to come down your throat."

  I let him guide me. His other hand jumps to my hair and he pumps my mouth in even, long st
rokes. With each one, his grunts only become louder and deeper.

  I wrap my hands around his thighs again, needing the leverage it offers. My head is bouncing quickly, his cock plunging deeper with each stroke. I feel the moment his body begins to tense.

  "Jesus," he hisses out between clenched teeth. "I'm going to come. I'm coming."

  I brace my head wanting to take it all but the first stream is so much I choke when I feel it.

  "Vanessa," he whispers my name as his eyes lock on mine. "Swallow. Slowly. Take it."

  I nod as I feel another thick stream hit the back of my throat. I keep my gaze on his as I take every last drop his body gifts me with.

  ***

  "It was too much, wasn't it?" He's still nude, his semi-erect cock bobbing between his thighs as he walks. "Vanessa, I was too rough. Fuck, please. Please don't go."

  I rub my hand over my face. I had rushed from the room the moment he slid off of me. I had put on my panties before he had gotten off the bed, and now I'm standing in the kitchen of his apartment, dressed in my scrubs, while my bra still lies where he threw it when he was taking me into his bedroom.

  I mumble something that neither of us can decipher. I'm not even sure of what I'm trying to say.

  "I got caught up in how good it felt." His hand drifts over his cock. "It was so good. I hurt you, didn't I? Did I scare you?"

  My bottom lip trembles so I bite it, hoping the rush of pain will ward off the visible anxiety I'm feeling. "No. I'm not scared."

  "I should have stopped." He stomps his foot hard against the floor. "Fuck. I wasn't thinking straight. I won't do that again."

  "I liked it," I admit softly. "I really liked it."

  "You liked it?" I hear the relief in his voice just as I see it in his expression. "It wasn't too much?"

  I shake my head from side-to-side. "I liked it all. It wasn't too much."