A Daughter's Legacy

by Virginia Smith

  A glimmer of light caught his eyes and warmed his gaze. Kelli found herself wanting to return his smile.

  Instead, she looked down at the beige carpet between them. “Thank you.”

  “If you need anything, call the zoo office and ask for me. The number’s in the phone book.”

  He hesitated as though he wanted to add something, but then changed his mind and left. Kelli crossed to the back door and lifted one of the mini blinds’ slats to watch as he strode across the weedy yard. When he’d disappeared through the back fence, she turned and leaned against the door. The room was sterile, eerily so.

  She looked at the box. Its presence seemed to dominate the silent house. Here she was, alone at last with her mother.

  “Lillian, why did you do this? Are you trying to punish me?”

  Her questions fell flat. The polished wood swam in Kelli’s vision when the first tears since that terrible phone call three days ago filled her eyes. Impatiently, she brushed them away, much like she’d seen Jason do during the service. With a loud sigh, uttered more for its noise value than anything else, she lifted her laptop case to the counter and opened the front flap, where she’d placed her copy of the trust and her mother’s letter. Maybe she’d find some answers there.

  Jason let himself through the gate and paused on the other side, his breath whooshing out as his lungs deflated. That girl was more like Lil than he’d originally thought. The direct way she had of fixing those gray eyes on him, of thrusting out her chin like she was ready to take on anyone who stood in her way. Just like Lil used to do when they were working on a problem with one of the animals. Only he’d caught a couple of emotions flickering across Kelli’s face that he’d never seen Lil display. Right before he left, for instance, she’d looked so tired, even a little vulnerable. Small. Lil was always larger than life, in control—of her emotions and of any situation that arose.

  “Oh, Lil, we’re sure going to miss you around here.”

  He crossed the trail to lean on the top rail of the fence surrounding Cali and Halil’s yard, and watched the kangaroos snooze in the shade. They’d been at Cougar Bay for a couple of years, compliments of a failed private zoo up in Kentucky. Lil had been ruthless in her determination to acquire them, their first large marsupials. They’d quickly become a favorite among zoo guests.

  What had happened between Lil and her daughter? Jason’s conversations with his boss in the past few weeks had been frustratingly unenlightening. He hadn’t known what to expect from Kelli, but in some part of his mind he thought she’d be Lil’s total opposite. Flighty, maybe. Or perhaps openly rebellious, with purple hair or pierced eyebrows or something. What else besides rebellion could drive such a wedge between a mother and daughter? He certainly hadn’t expected an intelligent, beautiful woman with pain lurking in her eyes.

  But he probably should have. Lil’s words, uttered in a raspy, shallow voice in her hospital bed the day before she died, rang in his memory.

  “She won’t be happy about this, Jason. With good reason. It’s going to be painful, and she’ll probably hate you.” She’d paused to catch her breath. “Don’t go easy on her, though. Everybody needs to face their fears. And if she fails…” Lil’s voice had trailed off.

  Jason heaved a sigh. He was getting accustomed to being hated by beautiful women. But after meeting Kelli Jackson, he found himself waging a private battle. On the one hand, his loyalty was to the animals of Cougar Bay Zoological Park, who depended on him for their very existence. That’s why Lil had trusted him to replace her as zoo director.

  On the other hand, he’d only met her daughter an hour before, but he knew one thing: he didn’t want to see Kelli fail.

  Chapter Four

  The wing chair faced the tiny television set, and from the slightly worn appearance of the armrests, Kelli assumed that was Lillian’s habitual seat. She settled on the cushion on the opposite end of the sofa and slid off her shoes before tucking her feet beneath her. Her name, scrawled in Lillian’s untidy handwriting, drew her attention to the letter. She freed it from the paperclip and stared at it for a long moment. Lillian had rarely written to her over the years, and when she did, it was always a quick note inside a card on her birthday or at Christmas. Or brief, cryptic e-mails. Kelli couldn’t remember receiving an actual letter since she went to live with Nana when she was eight. She set the envelope on the cushion beside her. Easier to start with the trust document and its impersonal legalese.

  Her gaze slid over the standard wording. The grantor is desirous of creating a trust for the purposes and upon the terms and provisions hereinafter set forth. Blah, blah, blah. The next section named the successor trustee as Jason R. Andover, and outlined the powers granted to him in carrying out Lillian’s wishes. Kelli set her teeth together. She’d assumed the trustee would be Mr. Lewis, her mother’s lawyer, or even the bank. That would have been standard. To name a complete stranger as a trustee was highly unusual.

  Of course, he’s only a stranger to me. What was Jason to you, Lillian?

  His handsome face swam before her mind’s eye, an angry flush staining his tanned cheeks at her pointed question about his relationship with her mother. Nothing inappropriate, Kelli now felt reasonably sure. He’d said Lillian was like a mother to him, and she found herself bristling again at the thought. Her mother had shared a relationship with someone else that she’d withheld from her own daughter. That stung. But it wasn’t Jason’s doing. The fault lay with Lillian.

  Was Jason named as a beneficiary as well as trustee? Kelli flipped a page and found the section naming the beneficiaries. No, the only two listed were Cougar Bay Zoological Park and Kelli Ann Jackson. Interesting.

  A few paragraphs later, she found the section outlining the distribution of the assets. Lillian’s car and the contents of the house were left unconditionally to Kelli.

  She looked up and let her gaze sweep the sterile room. Bare furnishings, no knickknacks, no pictures on the wall. Lillian wasn’t into possessions, apparently.

  The document went on to outline the conditions Mr. Lewis had described. If Kelli accepted an animal care position at the zoo and remained for six months, and if her performance was deemed acceptable at the sole discretion of the zoo director, she would receive fifty percent of the estate’s value.

  She shifted on the scratchy sofa and scowled at the document. It specified that the position had to be “an animal care position,” which meant she couldn’t go to work in the office where she’d be far more comfortable. But even worse was the phrase at the sole discretion of the zoo director.

  “So, in other words, I could work here for six miserable months, and if Lillian’s substitute son doesn’t like me, I’ll walk away with nothing.”

  The harshness of her voice rang in the empty house. Her own fierce tone startled her, but not as much as the thought that caused it. Lillian assumed she could be bought, that she’d do the thing she abhorred just for the money. An angry flush warmed her neck.

  The next item outlined the provision Mr. Lewis mentioned. If she chose not to accept a position at the zoo, she would receive a cash disbursement of $25,000, and the balance would be forfeited to the zoo.

  “So, you didn’t leave me penniless. You gave me an out.” Kelli’s bitter whisper sounded flat in the silent room. Did her mother think that made the rest of this ridiculous document okay? Was that provision supposed to appease Lillian’s conscience for the turmoil she knew she would cause her daughter?

  The zoo had conditions to meet as well. The adjoining property must be used for expansion of the existing facilities, and must include an African Habitat to house species native to the African continent. The expansion must include a suitable habitat for lions, funded by the estate’s liquid assets. Kelli flinched. Lions again. Jason R. Andover must be named as zoo director with an employment contract of one year.

  Kelli’s lips curved into a grudging smile. She had to admit, Lillian seemed to have thought of everything. Without a time commitment,
the zoo could have fired Jason the day after the money was disbursed. A year gave him a chance to prove himself in the position. Then her smile faded. Was that Lillian’s idea or Jason’s? Just how much input had the handsome new zoo director had into the conditions of this trust?

  A soft thud from the other room drew her attention. She stiffened on the sofa. Was someone else in the house? She forced herself to relax. No reason to get jumpy. It was probably the cat. She set the document on the cushion and rose, making her way slowly in bare feet across the carpet.

  At the end of a short hallway stood another sterile room, a bathroom without so much as a hand towel to give it a personal touch. Correction. Tucked between the toilet and the vanity, Kelli spied a litter box. She wrinkled her nose. How like Lillian, to give the cat his own bathroom.

  The office door stood open to her right, and a glimpse inside bore testimony to Jason’s warning. Piles of paper littered the desk and the top of a two-drawer filing cabinet. A wall clock ticked loudly, and Kelli realized she’d been hearing the sound echo in the silent house since she arrived. But nothing stirred in the office. Kelli turned her back on it. There would be time to dig into that soon enough.

  She crept toward the room on the opposite side of the bathroom. The place was almost empty. In the far corner stood one of those cat exercise thingies, nearly four feet tall with carpet-covered posts and a couple of platforms. Scattered across the floor were a variety of toys—hot-pink mice and a brightly colored stuffed bird. Apparently, the cat had his own bedroom as well. The orange feline himself—Leo, Jason had called him—was currently amusing himself by batting a rubber ball around the carpet. As Kelli watched, it bounced off the baseboard and created the soft thud she’d heard. Leo leaped after it and pounced, sending it flying in the opposite direction.

  Then the cat caught sight of her in the doorway. In a flash, he shot through a crack in the closet’s sliding doors and disappeared from sight.

  “Fine,” Kelli told the cat. “Stay in there, then. Doesn’t bother me at all.”

  Instead of returning to the couch, she crossed the living room. Her suitcase stood where Jason had left it. She stepped past it, into her mother’s bedroom.

  Thankfully, this room wasn’t nearly as messy as the office. Nor was it as antiseptic as the living room. At least there were pictures on the wall, all of them animal shots. Furnishings were sparse and serviceable: a double bed, a dresser, a nightstand. A thin layer of dust covered everything. Kelli knew from the hospital representative who’d called her three days ago that Lillian had been in the hospital for two weeks prior to her death.

  And she didn’t want them to call me. Didn’t even name a next of kin until the end.

  Across the room, the door to the bathroom stood open. Kelli started toward it, but a picture on the wall beside her head snagged her gaze. A close-up of a shaggy, golden lion, its mouth opened wide. The camera had captured a perfect shot of the vicious, powerful teeth.

  A shudder rippled through Kelli, along with a powerful memory that was still too vivid, even after eighteen years. What was the matter with that woman? How could she sleep in the same room with a picture like this after what happened?

  Revulsion twisted in her stomach. Wasn’t it enough that a lion had destroyed their family? A lion had been the reason Kelli grew up living with Nana instead of in a normal family with a mother and—she closed her eyes—a father. Kelli snatched the picture and set it on the floor, facing the wall. That creature would have to go elsewhere if she was to sleep in here for even one night. She looked around the room. The majority of the pictures seemed to be of lions, a fact that repulsed her and pricked her curiosity at the same time. What could possibly explain Lillian’s bizarre fascination with lions? It was sick.

  Kelli shook her head. Before bedtime she’d take down all these animal pictures and stash them somewhere. Maybe Leo would like some company in his closet.

  Back on the living-room sofa, she picked up the envelope and stared at it. The familiar ache, buried deep in her heart long ago, began to throb. Was this letter Lillian’s attempt to explain the actions that had such a devastating effect on her eight-year-old daughter? An attempt to heal the old wounds?

  Kelli carefully opened the envelope, aware that her mother had sealed it with her own mouth. A final kiss goodbye.

  Dear Kelli,

  By now you’ve learned about the trust. You probably think I’m being mean to you. Maybe I am, but not without a good reason.

  Your father and I both gave our lives to the preservation of zoo animals. I promise you, the strength of my dedication is no less than his. Will you give us a mere six months to see if you can get a glimpse of our passion? If I could have convinced you to do it while I was alive, I would have. I just didn’t know how. This trust is my way of asking you to share my life.

  Only God knows the damage I’ve done to you. I hope He forgives me. I don’t expect you to. Ask somebody to tell you about Cocoa. Maybe you’ll understand.

  I do love you, Kelli, more than I was ever able to express.

  It was signed in her hurried script, Lillian Mitchell. Beneath her signature she had written, Your Mother. As if Kelli needed the reminder of who she was.

  She read the last line again. Tears stung her eyes. Love? Nana loved Kelli and proved it by being there every day as she grew up, by taking care of her, by coming to her band concerts and taking her to Sunday school. Lillian didn’t know what love was. She wanted Kelli to share her life?

  “It’s a little too late for that, isn’t it?” Her shout, aimed at the letter, squeaked at the end as her throat squeezed shut. “My childhood is over, and so is your life.”

  She tossed away the letter. Tears blurred her vision as she watched it flutter to the floor. Once again, Lillian had proved what Kelli had long known: Her precious zoo animals were more important than her own daughter.

  “It’s all about you, isn’t it, Lillian?” She kept her voice low, her whisper masking the sobs that threatened. “Your dedication. Your passion. It’s always been about you.”

  Her gaze fell on the trust document, Lillian’s attempt to manipulate her, to bribe her. Well, Kelli wouldn’t play along with it. She refused to sell her soul for money.

  An image of Nana rose in her mind. Frail Nana, who moved slower these days. Who sometimes forgot to turn off the gas oven until the next morning. There would come a time, and it might be soon, when Nana couldn’t continue to live alone. Lillian’s money would ensure that she didn’t have to.

  “That’s okay.” Kelli lifted her chin, her decision made. “We’ll manage without it.”

  She got off the sofa and went to retrieve her cell phone from her purse. Nana would be wondering what was happening, and when Kelli would be returning to Denver.

  The zoo was crowded today. Jason passed a string of children in identical yellow T-shirts crowding around the red panda enclosure, and nodded a pleasant greeting at the pair of young women who stood watching them. He’d heard someone from Guest Services say they had a couple of summer camp groups scheduled today. Until a couple of months ago, he would have been assigned the task of introducing them to Samson and the other cats. But that was before Lil got sick enough to hand off some of her duties to him. Now Michael was the zookeeper primarily in charge of big cats.

  But Samson had earned a special place in Jason’s heart a long time ago. No matter how busy his day, Jason always found time to pay a visit to the lion. That’s where he headed now, with Lil’s letter folded in his pocket.

  Samson dozed on the shaded concrete platform in the corner of his enclosure, as he usually did during the heat of the day. Jason stood at the external barrier near a mother and her two boys, whose fingers were locked in the chain link. He studied the magnificent beast’s golden fur, his shaggy main. As Jason watched, the conspicuous dark tuft at the end of his long tail flicked upward, then collapsed again to its limp position. Besides that, Samson didn’t move at all.

  “C’mon,” one boy said t
o his brother, his tone heavy with disgust. “Let’s go look at the monkeys. At least they jump around.”

  Jason hid a smile as the trio strolled away. Samson considered himself too regal to perform for a crowd. He was, after all, the king of beasts, even if he was without a pride over which to rule at the moment.

  The nearby bench, tucked into a welcome patch of shade, was empty. Jason fought off a stab of guilt and seated himself. A pile of work lay on Lil’s desk—his desk, unofficially—but that could wait for a few minutes. Here, in front of the animal Lillian had loved so much, was the ideal place to read her letter.

  He ripped open the envelope and extracted the single page covered in his late boss’s familiar handwriting.

  Jason,

  I’ve never been good at telling people how I feel. I’m much better at telling them what to do.

  Jason smiled. That was true.

  I’m not going to get all gushy, because that will just embarrass you. (I guess I’m beyond being embarrassed now, aren’t I?) But I do think you’re a fine man, and the best person to become zoo director after me. I trust you to carry on the work I’ve started. You’ll get no higher praise from me than that.

  I hope you and Kelli get along. I warn you, she’s going to have a hard time with this. I won’t ask you to go easy on her, but try not to make it any harder than it has to be. She carries a lot of pain. Maybe she’ll open up to you one day and tell you about it.

  Get Samson out of that cage, Jason. Don’t let them take him.

  Lillian Mitchell

  Jason looked up from the letter, his gaze drawn to Samson’s enclosure. Lil’s use of the disparaging word cage spoke volumes. Samson’s home was pathetically small for such a glorious animal. True, it met the Association of Zoos and Aquariums’ minimum requirements, barely. But Samson deserved so much more. On that, Lil and Jason had been in complete agreement. Samson was a perfect specimen, healthy and virile, and easily met the AZA’s strict breeding qualifications. But without a proper habitat, the AZA would never allow them a female lion, would never approve Cougar Bay’s application to initiate a lion breeding program. In fact, because all zoo animals technically belong to AZA, it was within that organization’s power to move Samson to another facility, one with a habitat more suitable for breeding. And Lil had been sure they would do it. Her determination not to let that happen had flickered like gray flame in her eyes whenever the subject came up.