by P. G. Forte
Daughter, Julie corrected automatically. But this time she managed to keep her thoughts—and her surprise—to herself. Desert Rose. My mother’s name was Desert Rose. It was a nickname, clearly, but it was still more than she’d had before.
“I can see the resemblance,” Linda continued. “Now that I look at you. I should have recognized it straight off. You’re the spitting image of her—as you probably know. How’s she doing anyway? I’ve always wondered. I mean, she left here so suddenly and we never had so much as a single postcard from her…”
“I’m sorry. There’s not much I can tell you. She died…shortly after her babies were born.”
“Ohhh, damn. Well, that’s too bad. I’m sorry to hear that. She was a sweetheart. I do hope… Well, I mean, obviously, they survived—because here you are! I was her midwife, you know. Or, leastways, I was s’posed to be.”
“We— I mean, they were born here?” Julie asked in surprise. No, no, no—that can’t be right! “We always thought—” She cut herself off before she said too much. Is that why this place seems so familiar? All their lives, she and Marc had been told they’d been born in San Francisco. They’d been told a lot of things. Was any of it true?
Linda shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to mislead you. She was supposed to have had them here. That was the plan. But something changed in the weeks just before she left. She became very concerned about her babies’ welfare.”
“Why? Was there something wrong with them?”
“Oh no. As far as I could tell everything was perfectly fine. It was just nerves, you see. She got it in her head that, once they were born, she wouldn’t be able to feed them, or wouldn’t know how to care for them properly. I probably should have taken more time to reassure her. But we were so busy just then, what with harvest festivals every weekend, and the campground closing down for the winter, and I really didn’t think it was anything more than prenatal jitters.”
“I still don’t understand what she was doing here. I mean, I thought she was supposed to be living in San Francisco.”
Linda chuckled. “Oh, honey, what were any of us doing here? It was karma, or kismet, or all that other good stuff. We were here because this was the place to be back then. It was where we were supposed to be. Anyway, that’s what we would have told you then, if you’d have asked us. But, in her case… I do remember wondering if there wasn’t someone she was hiding from. She always said no, but I’m not sure I believed her.”
Julie nodded. Linda’s words had struck a chord inside her. It was as though she could almost sense her mother’s emotions—fear and longing and love. “Did you ever ask?”
“Oh, no. We wouldn’t have talked about it unless she brought it up. We prided ourselves on being a safe place here, a haven of sorts. A lot of the people who passed through in those days were on the run—maybe most of them. Some were underage, some were dodging the draft, some may even have been wanted by the police. With other folks, it was the demons in their past, or the demons in their heads, they were trying to get away from. It wasn’t our place to judge and we always figured the less we knew the less we’d have to lie about.”
“Did she ever say who the father of her babies was?”
Linda looked surprised. “You don’t know?”
Julie shook her head—by this point, she didn’t trust herself to speak at all.
Linda sighed. “No, she never said. There was one young man, I think she might even have come down here with him, a very talented artist. He wasn’t the nicest person I’d ever met, but he did make the most beautiful stained glass.”
“Stained glass?” Once again, Julie’s heart started to race. “Like this?” Quickly, she pulled out the stained glass heart she wore on a leather thong around her neck. It was originally part of the wind chime her mother had given Conrad.
Linda nodded. “Yes, very much like that. As I recall, he had several pieces with that gold dust swirled into the glass. It seemed to be a favorite technique of his. Probably because he could charge so dang much for it—he was a little mercenary, as I recall. If you had that from your grandmother, then I’d stake my livelihood on it being his. Anyway, to get back to your question, I guess I assumed he was the father; just based on timing. But it certainly didn’t seem to matter. I don’t even know if he knew she was expecting. She wasn’t very far along when he took off and I don’t think either of them bothered to keep in touch. Like I said, he wasn’t very nice, and she didn’t seem all that attached to him. I always suspected there was someone else in her life, but…well, I guess we’ll never know. She certainly had her secrets. I suppose we all did.”
“Do you remember his name?”
Linda shook her head. “No, and to be honest, honey, I don’t know for certain that he was the one. I didn’t think she knew herself who the father was. I hope that doesn’t offend you, but it was a different time back then. A more innocent time, in a lot of ways. I miss it.”
Julie nodded absently. It was disappointing to still have so little information about her parents. If even her mother didn’t know who their father was, Julie didn’t suppose she’d ever learn the answer to that particular question. It seemed like every answer she did receive only led to more questions.
She still didn’t know why her mother had come here or why she’d left. She didn’t know how she and Marc had ended up with Conrad. Or when they’d been turned, or why, or even by whom.
It had to have happened when they were very young, because neither of them remembered anything about it. Damian had always insisted Conrad was their sire, and she and Marc had assumed that meant it was he who turned them. It was only recently that she’d come to realize there was something terribly wrong with that story.
According to everyone she’d talked to since moving to San Francisco, it was supposed to be dangerous to turn children—some said impossible. And Conrad’s opposition to turning anyone without their knowledge and express consent was practically an article of faith. So, if their mother had been at all concerned with their well-being, which Linda claimed she was, she would never have put them at risk by asking Conrad to turn them. And if Conrad was sincere about not violating their free will—as absolutely everyone who knew him insisted was the case—then he wouldn’t have turned them at all, even if she’d asked.
It all added up to nothing that made any sense at all. Unless…
“Did my… Did Desert Rose ever say why she was suddenly so worried about her children? Was it something specific?”
Linda’s lips tightened. “Not really. Like I said, she had concerns about feeding them. I’m not saying breastfeeding twins is the easiest thing to get a handle on, but…” She broke off with a shrug, looking far more uncomfortable than seemed warranted—as though the question was not one she wanted to answer; or as though the answer she’d given had only touched on the truth.
“Go on,” Julie prompted. “Please.”
“It was nothing! Typical pregnancy hormones—that’s all. It’s not uncommon for women to get very strange notions when they’re pregnant, especially when they’re expecting their first child. And she was so very young…”
“She must have told you something.” Another possibility had occurred to Julie—the most improbable one of all. But, if she’d ruled out all the other options as impossible, what else was left? She locked eyes with Linda and nudged with her mind, ever so slightly. “Please tell me. It’s important. I really need to know what happened.”
“You have to understand,” she said, her voice shaky and soft. “We were all about expanding our consciousness. We were searching for enlightenment but, for some of us, the road to the top of that mountain took some mighty strange detours.”
“Are you talking about drugs?”
Linda sighed. “I’m not suggesting that your grandmother experimented with anything while she was expecting—I’m sure she didn’t. But, all the same, flashb
acks and even hallucinations were not unheard of. You never really knew when something like that might kick in; it might be months or even years after the fact.”
“And…?”
Linda’s shoulders sagged. Julie could feel her resistance weakening. “In the last few weeks she was here, she became…restless. She told me she was worried about how her babies would survive once they were born, how they’d receive nourishment, what they would eat.”
“If breastfeeding was a problem, wouldn’t she just have given them bottles? It sounds like there was something else that was worrying her.”
“It seems so silly now. Actually, it seemed pretty darn silly back then too. It’s just…”
Julie pressed harder. “Go on.”
“She told me she didn’t think bottles were going to work because… Because she thought they might be… That they might be…”
“Yes?”
Linda’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Vampires.”
“She did?” A huge grin stretched across Julie’s face. “She actually said that?” It was as if a weight she hadn’t even known she’d carried had suddenly been lifted. She and Marc might not have ever known their mother, but their mother had sure known them. She’d known exactly who they were—what they were—right from the start.
Linda held up a hand. “I know. I know how that sounds.” There was a vaguely truculent note to her voice as she continued. “You’re thinking she was crazy, right? That we all were? But, you have to remember, she was very young and… I figured it didn’t matter what she believed, at that point. I knew she’d forget all about it once the babies were born. Things would’ve fallen into place then. Everything would’ve turned out fine.”
“Sure. Of course,” Julie agreed automatically.
“I never dreamed she’d up and leave like that.”
“How could you?” Born Vampire. It flew in the face of everything Julie had been taught, everything she and Marc had grown up believing. But it made perfect sense and, suddenly, she knew that was exactly how it had been.
Julie and Marc had not been turned as children; they hadn’t had the choice taken from them. It had never been a choice at all—they’d been born this way.
“And it wasn’t dangerous to go along with it, to let her think what she liked—no matter what anyone said. Arguing with her would have just stressed her out even more. It’s not like she was planning on…on staking them through the heart or anything silly like that. You have to understand, she loved those babies. She would never have done anything to hurt them—not for the world.”
“No, of course not.”
“She was frightened, that’s all, and this was her way of coping.”
“So was she…was she very upset by the idea?”
“Upset? Oh, Lord no. Far from it.”
“She wasn’t?” Julie breathed another sigh of relief. “Really? That-that’s good to know.”
“She wasn’t upset at all—that was another reason why I wasn’t more concerned. To hear her talk you’d have thought it was the best thing ever. She couldn’t stop grinning whenever the subject came up. That’s mostly why I didn’t try harder to change her mind. It was like…a game, almost. You know? She used to say it was our little secret. The only thing that bothered her about it was not knowing how to care for them.”
Julie nodded. It made perfect sense. Her mother hadn’t known how to bring up baby vampires, so she brought them to Conrad. Who better to care for them? “I’m sure it’s very common for expectant mothers to feel that way,” she said, not meaning a word of it, but wanting to offer something to Linda in the way of reassurance and thanks. “I’m sure you handled things exactly right. There was nothing more you could have done. And she did take care of her babies. Even though she couldn’t be there for them herself, she made sure they were given the best care possible. I promise you, no one could have asked for better parents than my grandfather and his partner.”
“Thank you for saying that.” Linda’s voice quavered. “For telling me…all of this, really. I’d be lying if I said I’d spent most of the last forty years worrying about her but…you know, from time to time, I have thought about her, and the way she left. It’s always bothered me that she just disappeared like that… We were friends! And…and I felt that I failed her.”
Impulsively, Julie gave her a hug. “I’m sure you did everything you could for her. I’m sure she was very grateful for your friendship. I know she was. I feel almost like I was led here today. Like she would have wanted me to come here and find you, and let you know what happened to her so you wouldn’t have to wonder anymore.”
Linda sniffled loudly. “I think so too. It would be just like her. She always found ways to do what she had to do.” She pulled back and dabbed at her eyes. “Oh, this is so silly.” Then she paused and looked at Julie curiously. “Wait. Did you just say your…grandfather raised the twins? I thought you told me you didn’t know who the father was?”
Julie shrugged. “Grandfather is just what we’ve always called him. I don’t know if there was an actual, biological link. But I do know he cared deeply for her—and for her children.”
“You remind me a lot of her. I’m not just talking about your looks now, either; it’s your voice, your mannerisms—everything really.”
“I wish I could have known her.” Julie sighed wistfully.
“You would have liked her.” Linda smiled. “And she would have loved you. Not just because you’re related, but because…you share the same spirit. I don’t know how else to say it. I don’t suppose you believe in auras?”
“Not really.”
“No. No one does anymore. But, all the same, I think you two would have gotten along very well. Let’s leave it at that.”
“That would have been nice.” We share a spirit? Julie had no idea what that even meant—more hippie-speak, she supposed. Her gaze strayed once more to the photo on the wall. “Is there any way I could get a copy of that picture? I’d pay for it, of course. It’s just…”
“Of course! I have a copier and some photo paper in my office. I’d be happy to make you a copy. In fact, I’ll go do it right now.”
While she waited for Linda to return, Julie studied the other pictures on the wall. She wished she could find more photos of her mother. Or perhaps a picture of that man Linda had mentioned—the one who might possibly be her biological father. Would she recognize him too? Was he still alive? Maybe she and Marc could track him down and…and what? Pretend to be his long-lost grandchildren? Create a bond they could never maintain with their human relatives? No. That would suck. It was probably best not to even go there.
She glanced around when she heard the shop door open and was not surprised to see that her brother had come looking for her.
“There you are.” Marc sounded relieved.
Julie couldn’t help but smile at her brother. “Hey, you’re back. Come here and take a look at these photos.”
She held her breath, wondering if he would feel it too, that instantaneous connection she had felt to the scenery, the time and place. But as he closed the distance between them, Julie could feel the tension radiating from her brother. “Everything okay, bro? You get your business all taken care of?”
“How come you didn’t leave a note saying where you’d gone? I was worried.”
Julie shrugged and quickly stifled her first impulse—which was to tell him everything she’d learned. “Sorry. Guess I didn’t think about it. I don’t know where else you thought I’d be though. It’s not like I was going to get far on foot. I just didn’t feel like hanging out in the motel room all day. I was hungry and this place looked interesting and I was thinking maybe I could get something to eat.”
“I left you some food,” Marc protested. “And I told you when I’d be back. You should have waited.”
Julie sighed. “I got the food and your note. But i
t wasn’t much and, like I said, I didn’t feel like waiting.” Much as she wanted to include Marc in on her discovery, she was probably better off waiting until later. He was too grumpy, for one thing. For another, he probably wouldn’t believe her anyway—no more than she’d have believed him, had their roles been reversed. “Now would you please take a look at these pictures? I want to know what you think.”
Given his pissy mood, the odds were good that anything she said would only lead to an argument. She was still elated by the discoveries she’d made. She didn’t want anything to spoil this moment for her. Besides, attempting to have a private conversation with her brother with Linda due back any minute was a bad idea. Julie didn’t want to risk having her new friend overhear something she shouldn’t.
Marc gave the pictures on the wall a cursory glance. “Yeah, they’re great. Very nice. Are you ready to go? I want to get back.”
“Now?” If they left now, the sun would be blindingly bright the entire trip home. Even wearing dark glasses, and with the car’s specially tinted windows, it would be unpleasant. She shuddered at the thought. “You’re kidding, right? Can’t we wait until dark?”
Marc shrugged. “Something’s come up. I need to get back tonight.”
“Why does everything always have to be ‘now’ with you?” She was getting a little tired of being captive to her brother’s timetable.
“I know it probably seems that way—”
“No, Marc. It is that way and you know it.”
“Sorry,” Marc said, not sounding even slightly repentant.
“Yeah. Sure you are. I don’t see why we have to rush off like this. We just got here. I might have had stuff I wanted to do down here too, you know.”
“You do? Like what? How come you waited until now to say so?”
“Oh, never mind.” She’d already found what she’d been looking for, so there really wasn’t a reason to stay. “Why don’t you wait for me in the car, okay? I’ll only be a minute. I’m getting something…wrapped.”