Bloodlines

by Sharon Sala

  It wasn’t until she was on her way up to her room to change clothes that she realized what she’d just done. She’d turned down an invitation to spend more time with Trey because her grandfather had told her he would see her at lunch; then she’d eaten a tiny dish of sorbet that she didn’t want just to pacify Rose. It would have been just as simple to have made a call to Marcus and told him she’d made other plans—Lord knows he did it to her often enough—only she hadn’t. Then she’d eaten food she didn’t want so as not to hurt someone else’s feelings.

  She sat down on the steps, then thrust her fingers through her hair in frustration. What was wrong with her? When had she become this gutless wonder—and why? Why was she living her life to please everyone except herself?

  She sighed. It was times like this that she missed having a mother. She needed another female’s reactions to what she was feeling, but the only female of any importance to her was her old nanny, Anna Walden. As she pictured the dear woman’s face, she knew what she wanted to do.

  She jumped up and ran the rest of the way upstairs to her room. Once inside, she took off the red dress and hung it back in the closet, trading it for a pair of old Levi’s and a Dallas Cowboys T-shirt. She abandoned her red heels for sneakers, and the loose hairstyle she’d had earlier was bunched up on her head and secured with an oversize pink clip. This time she was dressing for comfort, not impact.

  After telling Rose where she was going, she hurried outside to the garages where the cars were housed. She started to get into her BMW, then, for some reason, changed her mind and took her grandfather’s black Chevy Trailblazer. She loved the SUV with its get-up-and-go engine. As she backed out of the garage, she realized it had been weeks since she’d driven herself anywhere—and certainly not since they’d returned from their vacation. It felt good to be in control of something, even if it was only a car.

  With an odd feeling of having escaped something threatening, she sped off the grounds. Before long she was on the freeway, aiming for Arlington and the two-bedroom bungalow that was now Anna Walden’s home.

  ***

  Dennis was so excited, he was shaking. Staking out the Sealy estate had been a brilliant idea. He hadn’t been there more than thirty minutes when he’d seen the black SUV come down the driveway and pull out onto the street. The windows were too dark for him to tell who was driving, but it really didn’t matter. The SEALY1 license tag marked it as belonging to the family, and anyway, he knew Marcus’s car when he saw it. Already, his next plan of action was moving into place.

  Then, suddenly, he tilted his head to one side, listening to voices that only he could hear.

  “Yes, Lord… I hear you,” he mumbled, and started the engine.

  He glanced over his shoulder to make sure there was no traffic behind him, then quickly accelerated away from the curb. He drove without caution in an effort not to lose sight of the SUV, knowing that God was on his side.

  ***

  Anna Walden’s sixtieth birthday had come and gone. The years had not been kind to her, but she didn’t seem to mind. In her youth she’d had a hot body and an attitude to match, but seeing her now, one would never have suspected. She could never have predicted the twists and turns of fate that had taken her to Marcus Sealy’s residence to care for a little two-year-old girl, traumatized by the events of her life. But she’d known from the first day that it was where she was meant to be. Anna had needed Olivia as badly as Olivia had needed her.

  Anna had raised her to adulthood with a great sense of pride and accomplishment. She’d known that one day her presence at the Sealy estate would no longer be needed, but she’d still been shocked by her termination. Even though Marcus had furnished her with a comfortable retirement income and a nice little bungalow in a good neighborhood, it had not buffered her from the painful sense of loss.

  Over the years, she’d learned to cope, satisfying herself with the impromptu visits Olivia occasionally made, looking forward to her own birthday, knowing that Olivia would come and take her out to dine somewhere elegant, and always enjoying the cards and letters that Olivia wrote. Just recently, she’d received at least a half-dozen postcards from both Marcus and Olivia during their trip to Europe, and she had lived vicariously through their trip from the notes and pictures. She was proud of the woman Olivia had become, but had never had aspirations of reinventing herself and moving on.

  Today was no exception. She was flat on her back with her feet propped up on the arm of the sofa watching The Price Is Right. The loose float dress she was wearing to disguise her extra weight had slipped back toward her belly, revealing white pudgy legs and deep-dimpled knees. The flip-flops she favored were dangling from her big toes. The gray roots in her dyed red hair were a good three inches long, evidence of how many beauty-shop appointments she’d missed. When she heard the doorbell chime, she frowned. Bob Barker had just called for another contestant to “come on down,” and she always loved to see the surprised reaction on the new contestant’s face. But when she heard a familiar and beloved voice calling her name through the door, she almost fell off the sofa in her haste to get up.

  “Nanna… Nanna… it’s me, Olivia!”

  Anna flung the door open, her expression mirroring her delight and surprise.

  “Olivia… it’s so good to see you!” she cried, and gave Olivia a hug of welcome. “Come in, come in. If you’d warned me you were coming, I would have baked chocolate crinkles. I know they’re your favorites.”

  Olivia beamed. “Yes, they are,” she said as she let herself be engulfed in the familiar comfort of Anna’s arms.

  She’d been right in coming here, after all. Although Anna was not blood kin, she was the closest thing to a mother figure she would ever have. Anna had helped Olivia learn to braid her hair, gone with her to buy her first bra, and taught Olivia all she knew about what it meant to be a female. And, unlike Rose, Anna knew Olivia’s likes and dislikes, including chocolate crinkles, not lemon sorbet.

  “So how have you been?” Anna asked as she closed the door and led Olivia to the sofa. “Did you and Mr. Marcus have a good time in Europe? Tell me all about it.”

  Olivia was a bit startled by the disarray of the room and Anna’s unkempt appearance, then shrugged it off. Looks didn’t matter. Anna was Anna—her Nanna, the woman who had become her touchstone to security—so she ignored the niggle of concern at the back of her mind.

  “Europe was great,” Olivia said. “We shot a couple dozen rolls of film, but I haven’t had them developed yet. After everything that’s been happening, they sort of slipped my mind.”

  Anna frowned. “What everything, dear? Has something happened to Marcus? Is he ill?”

  Olivia was surprised that Anna hadn’t keyed in immediately on what she meant.

  “No, no, nothing like that,” she said. “I was talking about the media… you know. You must have seen the papers about that baby’s remains.”

  Anna frowned. “Baby? What baby?” Then before Olivia could answer, she added, “I have to confess, I broke my glasses a week or so ago. I can see the television just fine without them, so I haven’t bothered to get them fixed, but it’s limited my reading.”

  “Oh, Lord,” Olivia muttered. “I wish I could be so unconcerned.” Then she turned sideways on the sofa, kicked off her shoes and folded her legs up beneath her. “I should have called you when it all started,” she said.

  “When what all started, dear?” Anna said, then jumped up from the sofa. “Wait! Before you start, I’ll get us something to drink.”

  “No, no, thank you,” Olivia said. “Maybe later. We need to talk in case the reporters start calling you, although I can’t think why they would.”

  Reporters? Suddenly, Olivia had all of Anna’s attention. The old woman sat back down, then folded her hands in her lap.

  “Why would reporters be calling me, dear?”

  “They shouldn’t, but that doesn’t mean they won’t. Grampy and I both agreed that you should be warned of the pos
sibility.”

  “Of what?” Anna asked.

  “About a week ago, a man found the remains of a small child… a girl… in a suitcase in the wall of a house up at Texoma. The police are trying to connect it to us because the baby was born with three thumbs.”

  Anna paled, then reeled, as if she’d been slapped.

  “A baby? In a suitcase? Good Lord! That’s appalling.” Then she added, “But I’m not sure I understand. I know having three thumbs is unusual, but yours can’t be the only family where that happens.”

  “Yes, but there are other complications.”

  “Like what?” Anna asked.

  “The coroner claims that the remains are about twenty-five years old, which is when I was kidnapped. And with the timeline, the age of the girl and the three thumbs… well… the long and short of it is, we had to submit to DNA testing to prove that I’m me and not someone else.” Then her chin quivered, and her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, Nanna, I know it’s silly, but I’m scared. What if I’m not Grampy’s real granddaughter? What if that poor dead baby is the real one?”

  Anna’s chin jutted, and her voice grew rough in anger as she grabbed Olivia’s hands.

  “Now, you listen to me. That’s foolish, and you know it. DNA or not, you’re Marcus Sealy’s granddaughter. I’ve seen the pictures. You’ve seen the pictures. I can’t believe you’d think for one minute that you don’t belong. Sealy blood runs in your veins. Now straighten up and act like it!”

  Olivia had expected sympathy, not a scolding. For a moment she was too taken aback to react, but when she did, she managed a crooked smile.

  “Oh, Nanna… I miss you. I came because I thought I needed sympathy, but as always, you gave me exactly what I need, which was an attitude adjustment.”

  As Olivia threw her arms around Anna’s neck, Anna shuddered, then held her close.

  “It’s all right, sweetheart. Your Nanna is here. I didn’t mean to sound so angry, but I won’t have you doubting yourself. Not ever.”

  “You’re right,” Olivia said. “No more doubts. Now, about that cold drink…”

  Anna leaned back, staring intently into Olivia’s face, as if searching for truth. Whatever she saw in Olivia’s eyes seemed to satisfy her. She smiled, then patted Olivia’s cheek.

  “I have iced tea… sweet, like you like it.”

  “Sounds great,” Olivia said. “I’ll help.”

  Anna grunted as she got up, wincing slightly from the pain in her knee as she stood.

  Olivia saw the pain on Anna’s face and frowned.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “I’m fine, just fine,” Anna said. “It’s just my old bones.”

  Olivia shuddered. The reference to old bones was too vivid a reminder of why she’d come. She shoved the thought out of her mind and put her arm around Anna’s shoulders.

  “I’m sorry it’s been so long since we’ve last visited,” she said. “Let’s go get that tea.”

  Anna grinned as they moved toward her tiny kitchen. It felt good to still be needed.

  At Anna’s insistence, Olivia sat down at the table while Anna assembled their refreshments. At first Olivia’s focus was on the joy of being with her Nanna, so she didn’t notice the oddities of Anna’s behavior. But when Anna poured tea in two glasses, then put the ice cubes in a bowl and set them on the table, Olivia blinked.

  She looked up at Anna and started to laugh, then realized Anna had not meant it as a joke. Breath caught at the back of her throat, leaving her momentarily speechless; then, without comment, she took a couple of ice cubes from the bowl and put them in her glass, before adding some to Anna’s. The tinkle and crack of the cold ice as it hit the warm tea was familiar, but the panic in the pit of her stomach was not. Something was wrong here, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

  As she continued to watch, Anna took a box out of the pantry and set it on the table next to the bowl of melting ice.

  “They’re not homemade, but they’re tasty enough,” she said. “I’ll get us some napkins and we’ll be all set.”

  Olivia stared in disbelief at the box of steel-wool soap pads and struggled to breathe around the knot in the back of her throat.

  “Nanna…”

  Anna turned. The smile on her face was genuine, but the confusion in her eyes didn’t belong.

  “Aren’t you hungry, dear? If the cookies don’t tempt you, I could make us some sandwiches. Yes… that would be good. A sandwich. Maybe some chips. You like chips, don’t you?”

  Olivia got up and put her arms around Anna.

  “Don’t,” she said gently. “It’s all right, Nanna. I’m not hungry. Now come sit down and have some tea with me.”

  At the simple request, the confusion in Anna Walden’s expression disappeared.

  “Yes… tea. And you can tell me about your vacation.”

  Olivia pulled out a chair and seated Anna at the table, then took the chair next to her. She put the tea in front of Anna, then set the box of steel-wool pads on a chair out of sight. Her fingers were trembling as she laid her hands in her lap. Her heart was hammering inside her chest, but she made herself stay calm.

  Anna stared at the glass of tea, then took a tentative sip.

  “It’s tea… isn’t it?” she said, then took another sip and smiled. “Yes. It’s tea. Good tea. Sweet tea, just like we like it. Thank you, darling. You always were so thoughtful.”

  Olivia’s eyes welled with tears.

  “You’re welcome, Nanna.” Then she took a deep breath. “You know, it’s been ages since you’ve come for a visit. Why don’t you pack a bag and come stay with Grampy and me for a few days.”

  Anna’s eyes widened; then the confusion returned.

  “Leave? Oh no, dear. I couldn’t do that.”

  “But why, Nanna? You’re just here all day by yourself, and Grampy and I would love to have you. Besides… there’s the possibility that the media will start hounding you about the years you worked for us, and you’d be sheltered from that at our house.”

  Anna frowned. “I won’t talk to them. I wouldn’t tell them anything, I promise. I don’t want to leave.” Then her voice faltered. “It’s been too long since I was there. I wouldn’t know where anything was.”

  Olivia could tell that her insistence wasn’t doing anything but agitating Anna further, and she couldn’t bear to be the one to cause her Nanna any distress. Still, the sadness of what she was seeing overwhelmed her. Before she could stop herself, she was out of her chair and down on her knees in front of Anna. She wrapped her arms around Anna’s waist and laid her head in the old woman’s lap.

  “It’s okay, Nanna. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. If you want to stay here, then you can stay here. And don’t worry about reporters. Grampy and I will take care of that—and you.”

  The pressure that had been building at the back of Anna’s throat began to subside. She looked down at Olivia, then laid her hands on Olivia’s hair and started to hum beneath her breath, just as she’d done when Olivia was a little girl.

  The sound was so familiar to Olivia, and so comforting, that for a moment she let herself believe everything was all right. But then her gaze fell on the box of scouring pads on the chair next to where she was kneeling, and she closed her eyes against the pain.

  How could a world that had been so perfect disintegrate so horribly in such a short span of time? As she knelt at Anna’s feet, she realized she wasn’t the only one with an identity in crisis. If she wasn’t mistaken, her Nanna was coming undone. She didn’t want to leave her like this, but she could tell the woman was going to need some backup. She would talk to Grampy about it tonight. He would know what to do.

  A short while later, Olivia drove away with the feel of Anna’s dry lips still imprinted against her cheek.

  ***

  Foster Lawrence gave the cabdriver the address he wanted as he slid into the back seat. The driver put the car into gear and peeled away from t
he curb before Foster had the door shut.

  “Dammit, man, I been waiting a long time for this ride. I don’t aim to be killed on the way to my destination, so slow the hell down.”

  The driver never acknowledged Foster’s demand, although he did slow down.

  Foster cursed beneath his breath, then made himself relax. A lot was riding on this trip, and there were plans to be made. He was under no misconception that the restaurant where he’d hidden the money was still in business, because he’d checked the phone book the first night without success. In twenty-five years, lots of things were bound to have changed. The actual location of the money was in the basement, and he was hoping that whoever had taken over the building would have done little to no renovation at that level. He just needed to get there, scope out the present business, see what it was going to take to get to his money, then get the hell out of Dallas. At least, since his physical transformation, he was confident that he could move around the city without being recognized.

  A short while later, the driver pulled up to the curb.

  “That’ll be ten-fifty,” he said.

  Foster peeled off two fives and a one and tossed them over the seat.

  “Keep the change,” he said, and slammed the door behind him as he got out.

  He heard the driver cursing but couldn’t have cared less. He would teach the little bastard to drive like that and then expect to get a good tip. He was still smirking as he turned around. At that point, the smirk died.

  “What the hell?” he muttered, looking first up the street, then down, checking the addresses of the adjoining businesses to make sure that the driver had dropped him off at the right place.

  When it hit him that the address was correct, his heart skipped a beat. A sick feeling grew in the pit of his stomach as the implications of what he was seeing sank in.