by E E Everly
That indeed was his secret.
He was pretty manipulative.
His ability made me think he was powerful for an emrys, but I had no one to compare him to, so I wasn’t one hundred percent sure. I just knew that I hadn’t caught most emrys influencing the emotions of an entire room.
That’s because they think it’s dishonest, Dad said.
Ah, so you aren’t above it, then.
It’s easier for Jessica this way. Trust me.
I have been, Dad. I have been.
I wished he could fix her memories so that everything would be fine.
And real.
They had loved each other once, why not have at least kindness toward one another?
Soon Mom was cooing to Trysten. She didn’t yell at me for disappearing, though she said the police were all over the place looking for me. Dad had grabbed my gear at the portal, so they found no trace of me.
I would show the stuff I’d written and kept to Trysten someday. I was grateful to Dad for saving it.
As Mom’s voice filled with emotion, I knew I’d been right. Mom’s heart had been broken. “I’m here now, Mom. I wanted to tell you that I found the birth father, with Dad’s help. He’s a good man. I wanted you to know that.”
“Didn’t he assault you?” Mom looked fierce, vengeful even.
I looked at Dad. How would I convince her that Cystenian was a good guy, especially since he’d become a part of Trysten’s life?
“It’s complicated, Mom, but I promise you, Cystenian’s wonderful. You’ll meet him. You’ll see.”
You forgot about one problem, Dad said. He’s wiping his memory of you.
I can’t think of that right now. “There’s so much that’s hard to explain,” I said to Mom. “Cystenian’s going through some things in his life.”
“That’s not a good reason to have sex with you, get you pregnant, and leave you.”
“You’re right. It sounds so ridiculous.”
Dad, I want to tell her that he’s had some mental health issues, since he won’t remember that he’s Trysten’s father or that we were together, but that won’t build the case in Cystenian’s favor. Mom will never trust him.
Dad nodded to himself. I’ll take care of this, Anerah. “Jessica, the night Cystenian and Anerah met, they were rash about their decision to engage in intercourse.”
I groaned and squeezed my forehead.
“Then Cystenian left. He’s from England.”
Good idea, I said. That will explain his long absences.
Dad continued. “Anerah didn’t know how to tell you what had happened. She felt heartbroken and confused because she liked him. Clearly she didn’t think her actions would result in a pregnancy.”
You’re not making me look very responsible, I said.
“How did you meet him in the first place?” Mom asked.
I perked up, leaving my embarrassment behind, more than willing to go along with Dad’s story. “He was at prom. Noelle’s cousin. You know Noelle. He was her date. Then he was here for most of the summer. We met up the night before he left. That’s when it, uh, happened.”
Mom grabbed my hand while cradling Trysten with the other. “You could have told me the truth.”
“I was a bit shell-shocked.” I grimaced. “Crushed. Stupid. Believe me, I felt awful when you called the police.”
“They think we’re all crazy up here. I mean, good grief, Anerah.”
“Anyway,” Dad said. “With Noelle’s information about her cousin, I was able to track him down.”
“I’m not even going to ask why you went to your father about this instead of me,” Mom said.
I winced. This tale was dripping with lies and things that Mom couldn’t understand no matter how much I padded this fake version.
“Anerah made a reckless decision to visit Cystenian,” Dad said, “which put her into labor. She spent the past six weeks visiting him and his family in England while she recovered.”
“So you weren’t actually giving Trysten up for adoption?” Mom gazed at her. She looked so sad. Had she already said goodbye to Trysten in her heart?
“No,” I said. “Dad was giving me some time. We weren’t sure what to tell you.”
“You could have called.”
“No cell service. They lived out in the middle of nowhere on this huge estate.”
“They have money? He’ll help support Trysten?”
“Oh, yeah.” I bobbed my head. “No doubt about that.”
After a while, we settled down and talked about other things. It involved a lot of lying. I leaned against Mom on the couch, happy to be home.
Eventually Trysten and I turned in, in my old room. I did have a bassinet for her, thankfully. Baby clothes, with their tags, cluttered every surface. I had to scoop them off the bed and pile them in a gliding rocker, which must have been a new addition from Mom, because I hadn’t seen it before.
How could I think about giving Trysten away? At this rate, I wasn’t sure when she would return to Emira.
Mom hesitantly let Dad sleep on the pullout in the screened-in patio room, even though we had a spare bedroom.
I snickered to myself. She still wanted him as far away from her as possible.
After she whispered good night from my doorway, I heard the lock click on her bedroom door.
Poor Mom. Her trust would be a long time coming.
I frowned as I turned on my side and looked at Trysten’s bassinet. I frowned as I thought of Cystenian wiping his memory. I frowned as I thought of his wedding.
By nightfall on Emira, which would be morning here, he would be a wed man.
As I rolled onto my back, my face came away from a wet pillow.
It would always be wet from now on—whenever I thought of him.
FORTY-TWO
Breakfast with Dad and Mom was strange. They talked politely to me but not to each other. Trysten had long since eaten breakfast, having risen at the crack of dawn to nurse, so she was in her bassinet in the living room, hopefully not sensing any weird vibes.
“What’s the plan for the day?” Mom asked as she reached for a piece of toast. I had to give her credit. She’d gone all out and made toast and eggs and freshly mixed up orange juice from concentrate. Nothing like the breakfast spread Cystenian’s family was accustomed to, but I liked it better, because it was with Mom.
And Dad. This was so weird for me.
I poured myself a second glass of OJ while glancing at Dad. “Not sure.” I might cry some secret tears in the shower. Then walk out to the cliff and cry some more. I shrugged for Mom’s benefit. She didn’t need to know my inner pain. “I guess just taking it easy and sorting through Trysten’s stuff.”
“I meant to tell you, honey, that you look amazing,” Mom said.
I looked at my plate. How did I explain my miraculously healed body after a harrowing delivery and nine months of bloating? “Oh, they have some amazing spa therapies and these herbs and stuff that help get rid of the baby bloat.”
“Really?” Mom eyed Dad. She was most likely wondering who had paid for all that.
He wasn’t paying any attention to our conversation. In fact, he had frozen, with his fork six inches in the air, with a piece of scrambled egg jiggling from a tine.
“Dad?” I touched his hand.
He had a faraway look in his eye. “I’ll be right there,” he muttered.
“What?” I asked. He was clearly speaking to Bronwen, unless he had a mental bond with yet another person I didn’t know about.
Dad bolted from his chair.
I jumped up after him. Mom’s eyes widened.
I need the moon jewel, Anerah. Dad was already to the hallway.
It’s on my dresser. Definitely not the best place to keep such a valuable item.
I was halfway down the hall after him when he emerged from my room with the jewel. Dang, he was fast. “What is it, Dad?” I tried to grab his arm, but he slipped past me.
“Vaughan? Anerah?�
�� Mom was hovering in the kitchen doorway.
“It’s okay,” I said, obviously not really knowing a darn thing. Dad, what is it? Is Bronwen okay? Nothing but concern for Bronwen would have him moving nearly emrys-fast in front of Mom.
Dad was at the sliding door. He yanked it open and bolted across the yard to the cliff trail, his explanation an afterthought. Bronwen needs to cross to Earth. There’s a situation. I’ll have her explain as soon as she arrives.
Dad! Wait. My insides twisted with anxiety. What was it? Had someone been injured, or worse? What do I tell Mom? I twisted my hands together as I watched him disappear from sight.
Mom tucked her chin to my shoulder as she leaned into me. “That man is still weird. All these years later, and I will never understand him.” She wrapped her arms around me from behind.
“Are you okay with him being here?” I asked. In my head I counted the steps it would take for Dad to race to the cliff. He might have jumped already. Emrys could really run when they needed to.
“The strange thing is, though I have an underlying distrust and revulsion toward him, something tells me that it’s okay for him to be here. Like he won’t hurt me.”
I turned to face Mom. “He won’t. I promise.”
“You seem to trust him.”
“It took a while to, but yeah, I do now.”
“I believe you.” Mom adjusted a strand of hair near my chin. “He’s different from what I remember, as if he’s not the same person.”
“He’s not. He’s changed. Trust me. I wouldn’t let him around Trysten if he were like he was before.” Dad?
Bronwen is through the portal, he said.
I nodded, as if he could see me. “So”—I squirmed away from Mom—“now might be a good time to tell you that Dad’s been seeing someone.”
I felt Mom’s eyes on me as I fingered a stack of mail on the island in the kitchen.
“That’s an odd thing to bring up,” she said.
“The thing is, I think there’s some sort of emergency. Dad wouldn’t rush off like that for just anyone.” I looked out the window and across the field. They should have been cresting the cliff by now.
“Anerah, your father is free to see whomever he wants. Is that what you’re worried about?”
I didn’t answer her. I counted more steps as I imagined them ghosting through the woods like a pair of vampires.
Mom wandered to the table and began clearing breakfast. It was done anyway. No one would be eating anything else. After a few minutes, I looked across the yard. “I hope this won’t be awkward for you, Mom, but she’s here. She’s coming here.”
“What’s that, honey?” Mom asked as she shut the refrigerator after putting some leftovers inside.
Bronwen and Dad walked at a somewhat hurried pace across the yard, hand in hand, I might add.
Mom stood next to me at the door, holding a dish towel. “Oh my gosh, she’s extremely attractive.” Her eyes rounded as she took in Bronwen wearing a cream-colored dress that hung off one fair, airbrushed shoulder. The hemline draped just past her knees. Gold hoops hung from her earlobes. Even from the distance, her eyelashes were thick and luscious. Bronwen was flawless in the whole getup. No underwear lines, no cellulite, no wrinkles around her eyes. “Your father traded up.”
“Mom!” I whacked her on the arm. She might have been in her forties, but she wasn’t falling apart. She was trim and athletic. Her hair was soft and shiny. Her eyes twinkled. I loved everything about her. But she did bring up a good point. Dad looked way young, and Mom did look ten years older than he did. He couldn’t stay in my life long without his inability to age being brought up. Dad! We need to tell Mom the truth. Like now.
Dad and Bronwen were ten feet away. One thing at a time.
They climbed onto the porch, and I slid the door open. “Bronwen. You missed me too much, did you?”
She pulled me into a hug. “I wish that were the case. Sadly this is not happy tidings.”
“I was afraid so.”
Trysten chose that moment to let out a mewling cry from the other room. I had only a moment before that would become a screaming feed me now. She was getting more vocal as the days passed.
“Hurry, come in.” I dashed into the other room and scooped Trysten up.
As I settled into a chair to feed Trysten, Dad made an awkward attempt at an introduction in the kitchen, but Bronwen smoothed it over. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Jessica. I’m Cystenian’s sister, Bronwen.”
Trysten didn’t want to nurse. She kept pulling away. She must have sensed the tension. My heart was racing. How could anyone think straight at a time like this? Bronwen and Dad filtered into the living room and stood in front of the couch. They made no effort to sit. Mom followed but hovered near the entry.
I gave up on nursing and tucked my breast away. Then I stood, with Trysten in my arms, pacing in an irritated fashion before them.
“Cystenian didn’t return before the ceremony,” Bronwen began.
“What?” I paused and hoisted Trysten over my shoulder and began patting her back. It took me four pats to remember that she hadn’t nursed, but I kept thumping her back anyway.
“No one can see him.” Bronwen looked toward my mom.
I nodded. No one could see him. His light. That’s what she meant. “Maybe he got cold feet.” I grimaced when the words came out harsher than I intended.
“You don’t understand.” Bronwen reached into her top and pulled out a rumpled, folded-up paper. “A note was delivered to you, from Bryn. The messenger brought it to Gorlassar, and it was then delivered to Brynmor, where I intercepted it.”
Translation, Dad said. A dragon messenger from Bryn brought it to the portal at Gorlassar, the only entrance from Bryn to Emira, and another dragon messenger carried it across vales from Gorlassar to Brynmor and to Bronwen.
It couldn’t have been from Cystenian, because if he was erasing his memory of me, why would he bother sending me a last note. “What does it say?”
Trysten tried lifting her chin from my shoulder. She had remarkable neck strength. It must have been an emrys thing. Was she trying to see who was oozing all the emotion in the room? My poor sensitive baby. I turned so she could see Auntie Bronwen.
“Let me see it.” Dad took the note, and with one glance at Mom, he went ahead and read it. “‘Anerah, Cystenian is enchanting!’” Dad cringed before reading more. “‘He’s mine for now, but you know what you must do to get him back. It’s your destiny. You must fulfill the prophecy. It’s the only way to unite our people—your people. Come to Uffern. —Yas.’”
“A ransom note?” I held Trysten carefully as I peeked at the words scrawled on the paper. The writing was fancy, like some eighteenth-century script. After her signature, there was a red lipstick print. Ew. Tacky. “Your sister kidnapped Cystenian and left a ransom note? Is she crazy?” Did she plan to seduce him in the meantime?
Mom had edged closer. When I went back to thumping Trysten, she rescued my baby and rocked her in her arms.
“Thanks, Mom,” I muttered.
“My sister is eccentric,” Dad said. “She believes this is the only way for peace. There’s more in the note. It’s addressed to me.” He frowned.
“I already read it,” Bronwen said. “It says, ‘Vaughan, darling, I can’t wait to see how grown… uh…’” She sputtered and looked at Mom. “I probably shouldn’t finish it.”
“What does it say?” I asked.
“‘How grown our daughter is,’” Dad concluded. “Signed R.”
“Daughter—?” Mom asked under her breath.
“Who’s R?” I asked, vaguely registering Mom’s comment too late.
“You need to tell her everything, Vaughan,” Bronwen said.
“No more secrets,” I said. But I already knew. How could I have been stupid enough not to put two and two together after all this time?
“Rhosyn. Rhosyn is your mother,” he said in his matter-of-fact dad way.
I knew tha
t name. Dad had spoken of her. I don’t know what I expected when Dad finally told me who my mother was, that cosmic trumpets would blast and some deep hole in my chest would be sewn shut? The feeling was the opposite. That of a gaping hole with jagged edges.
While I took calming breaths through my nose, Dad turned to Mom. “I know I have a lot to explain, and if you will be patient, I will. The whole truth. Everything from the beginning.”
Mom didn’t answer at first. She gently laid Trysten in the bassinet. When she stood after tucking a blanket around Trysten, her words were thoughtful, not angry or upset. “It seems to me that I can wait. It sounds as if Cystenian is in trouble, and you need to help him first.”
A huge weight rolled off me, and I rushed over to Mom and pulled her into a hug. “I didn’t like the lies. We thought it would be easier to protect you. It’s a confusing mess, but whatever it is, you are always my mom. No one else.”
“I know that, sweetheart. It’s okay.” She squeezed me. “Let’s figure out how to help Cystenian and then you can explain everything.”
True to who she was, she accepted things as they came, as she always had. I couldn’t have loved her more than I did right then. Through this whole thing, from me announcing my magical seduction to announcing my pregnancy and now Dad announcing my other mom. She didn’t flinch with whatever must be done or waver in her affections for me.
“What does my mother have to do with this?” I asked.
“Yasbail and Rhosyn are close,” Dad said. “Five hundred years separate their birth, but it’s as if they are joined together, as if they were twins in the womb. They were born with bonds. A transcendent union. It’s believed that they are one soul divided.”
“How’s that possible?”
“It’s a long story. It has to do with our father going back in time.”
I glanced at Mom yet again since Dad was throwing out more foreign concepts. She was studying Dad, and not with a skeptical face, so I took that as a good thing.