Forbidden

by Liliana Rhodes

  “You don’t have to tell me any of this. I never blamed her for anything.”

  He pulled a folder out of his briefcase and handed it to me. “We need to talk about this. I can’t explain to you why I ended up here when I did, but I was hoping to be able to find some trace of you. I know that even after your grandmother passed you would sometimes write to her here. So I was hoping maybe you wrote her recently and left a return address. I never expected to actually find you here.”

  I opened the folder and saw a bunch of legal documents. This was the last thing I needed, another way for them to throw me back in jail.

  “Who are you? I’ve been out of this life for years. Why can’t you just leave me alone?” I pushed the folder at him, picked up my bag, and started to walk away. His hand grabbed my arm firmly, and as I raised my hand to punch him, I thought about what he said. If my grandmother trusted him, then I should too. I let my bag drop to the sidewalk and waited for him to speak.

  “I’m sorry, Shane. I should’ve introduced myself earlier. My name is Tom Mulligan, and I'm your grandmother's attorney. I handle estates, wills, that kind of thing.”

  “She died years ago, wasn’t this taken care of then?”

  “Yes, but…” His voice trailed off as he changed his mind about what he was going to say. “We should go to my office so we can talk more. There’s a lot I need to go over with you.”

  He motioned towards his car. I grabbed my bag and walked towards it without a second thought. I had no place to go, and it was obvious to me that my grandmother brought me there for a reason. Besides, I needed something to keep my mind off of Rosalie. None of this was coincidental, and I needed to find out why.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Shane

  We drove in silence through the long city blocks. At first I glanced over the papers in the folder, trying to figure out what this was all about, but then I caught myself looking out the window at the changing neighborhoods.

  From the falling-apart filth of where my grandmother lived, to the cleaner streets and renovated buildings of Rittenhouse Square, I watched the buildings go by. I was numb. I didn’t know what to expect from this lawyer, but I wished Rosalie was with me. She would be able to make sense of this, and even if she couldn’t, it would have been great just having her here with me.

  As tears stung my eyes, I pushed her out of my mind. I was overtired and it was making me into a pussy. I had to focus on whatever was going on here. I could feel sorry for myself later.

  Tom pulled into an underground parking garage and handed his key to the attendant. I followed him into an elevator that opened into the third floor of a small office building.

  “We’ll go to my office,” he said as he started down the hall.

  A thin woman with a short grey bob sat at a desk in front of a closed door with Tom’s name on it. She stood as we approached, her hands wringing nervously.

  “I’m so sorry, sir, but Mr. Craven insisted on waiting in your office,” she said.

  “That’s fine, Sheila, it doesn’t surprise me. Would you mind getting us some coffee?” Tom smiled at her, and she smiled back before hurrying away.

  He leaned closer to me as his hand twisted the doorknob. “I inherited her from a partner who passed away. He was a real son of a bitch to everyone. She’s still recovering from it.”

  As we entered the room, a man in a perfectly-fitted charcoal grey suit with short dark hair was seated in one of the seats in front of Tom’s desk. He turned towards us and I stopped walking, surprised by his appearance. He looked like a younger version of my dad, or an older version of me. We even had the same colored eyes, except that his were behind a pair of dark-rimmed glasses.

  He stood, and his eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and confusion. I didn’t need anyone to tell me I had the same surprised expression.

  Who the hell is this guy?

  “What’s going on here, Tom?” he asked, his voice a little gruff. “You brought me here to talk about my father, who’s this?”

  “Your father?” I asked before Tom could answer. “I’m here about my grandmother.”

  “I’m sorry, but we’re all here to talk about the same thing,” Tom said as he circled around his large desk to a wide-backed black leather chair. “First, let me introduce you to each other.”

  I joined them at the desk and stood by an empty chair. I looked from one to the other, and I could tell the other guy had no idea why he was there either.

  “Shane Ventana, this is Noah Craven,” Tom said. “You’re brothers, and the only heirs to your grandmother’s estate.”

  “You mean…” I couldn’t bring myself to say “my father’s dead?” I was too surprised to learn I had a brother.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Shane

  “I have a brother?” Noah asked, looking confused. He shook his head as he continued looking at me. “I barely had a father and now I have a brother. I shouldn’t be so surprised based on what I’ve heard about him.”

  I couldn’t keep up with all the thoughts swimming through my head. Did Abuela know? If she did, why didn’t she tell me? Why didn’t my dad tell me? How can I have a brother? Who is Noah Craven?

  “Wait,” I said, “if we have the same father, then why don’t we have the same last name?”

  His face grew dark briefly before he answered.

  “I changed my last name on my eighteenth birthday. Craven is my grandmother’s name, my mother’s mother. She raised me. I never knew my father… our father.”

  “You didn’t miss much,” I said.

  I thought about what my life could have been like without my father in it. Would it have been better? Where would I have gone? My eyes met Noah’s, and he seemed so familiar to me that the next thing I knew I started telling him about my life.

  “I spent years in and out of jails and foster homes because my dad couldn’t get his shit together. I remember plenty of times overhearing my grandmother telling him to leave me with her, but he never listened. Each of those times, my dad and I ended up in trouble. Things would’ve been much worse without her. I have no doubt of that.” I sat down in the empty chair next to where Noah was still standing. “My grandmother gave me the closest thing I had to a stable childhood,” I said. “It wasn’t the best, and it certainly wasn’t ordinary, but I’m grateful for her. I guess what I’m saying is I understand why you’d change your name.” The shine of his leather loafers caught my eye. I didn’t know anything about clothing or shoes, but everything about Noah screamed money. “By the looks of you, I think our dad not being around was a good thing.”

  “Don’t judge a book by its cover,” Noah muttered as he took his seat again.

  Tom tapped the estate folder noisily on the top of his desk.

  “I know there’s a lot for you to discuss, but if you give me a few minutes, I can explain why you’re here,” Tom said.

  He opened the folder, and his eyes stopped on something before he closed the folder again and looked up at us. His brow knitted as he considered his options. He let out a heavy sigh before he started talking again.

  “I guess the best thing to do is to just get to the point.” He looked from Noah, to me, and then back to his folder. “When your grandmother passed away, she had a considerable amount of assets. As you know, she only had one child, your father, but she didn’t want to leave anything to him while he was still using. Because she was concerned your father would sue if he didn’t get her home or anything else when she passed away, she had all her assets moved into trust.”

  “And that way she avoided probate, and kept her assets private,” Noah said.

  Tom nodded while I sat there trying to follow what they were saying.

  “Ultimately it didn’t matter,” Tom said. “After Shane’s last prison release, your father was nowhere to be found. He went completely off the grid until two weeks ago.” He cleared his throat, and his brow wrinkled as he rubbed his chin briefly, then sighed. “Your father is dead.”

/>   Noah let out a breath as if he had been punched in the gut. My gut felt that punch.

  “Our private investigator tracked him down to an abandoned building in Camden. We told him he could move into your grandmother’s home while he got himself clean, and he asked if he could have a day to say goodbye to some people. When we came back the next day, all his things were in a box, but he was dead. He overdosed.”

  I looked down, trying to hide my tears. It didn’t surprise me how it happened, or that it happened. I knew it was only a matter of time. He wasn’t the best father, but he was my dad. I always hoped things would change and we would have a father-son relationship. Now I’d never get that chance.

  A warm hand clasped my shoulder and I looked up to see Noah with a pained look in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice full of sadness.

  I looked away, unable to say anything back.

  “I’ll give you two some time to talk,” Tom said as he rose from his seat. “There’s a cafe a few doors down if you want to grab a coffee or something. We need to go over the trust, which was left to both of you equally, but that doesn’t need to be done right now. I know this has been a lot on both of you.”

  Noah rose and patted my back. “Hey, he’s right, let’s get out of here and get some fresh air.”

  I got up and nodded, then followed Noah out the door. Some fresh air sounded good. Anything had to be better than sitting in that office. I needed to clear my mind. Between having a brother and losing my father, and everything that happened with Rosalie, I needed to go somewhere and figure things out.

  The midday sun blinded me as I stepped onto the sidewalk. Noah and I walked silently towards the cafe on the corner, but before we got there, he stopped and motioned to the building across the street. It was a one-story building with a white painted facade that looked European. Most of the front was a large window that was made up of smaller rectangular window panes. Hanging over the heavy door was a faded wooden sign with a green shamrock and script lettering that said ‘Murray’s Pub.’

  Between the slope of the sidewalk and the tall office buildings it was sandwiched between, Murray’s Pub looked like it was crooked. And that off-balanced look made it the perfect place. Without a word, Noah and I crossed the street and entered the bar.

  It wasn’t even noon yet, but there were people seated at the long bar and at several of the tables. We sat on two stools and the bartender, a man with fluffy white hair and round glasses, handed us a thick lunch menu. Noah pushed his aside and raised two fingers into the air.

  “Two of whatever’s on draft,” he said.

  The bartender poured two beers and set them in front of us. “You two look like you need to run a tab,” he said as he jotted something down, then slid the piece of paper into a clip that held the paper in place before walking away.

  Should I talk about our dad? Should we get to know each other? Should we talk about Abuela’s trust? I had so much to say that I didn’t know where to start. The only thing I knew for sure was that I felt a connection to Noah, an automatic, brotherly bond that I never felt with anyone else before.

  Noah held his glass up to me, and I raised mine.

  “To our father,” he said. “While he might not have done anything right for us while he was alive, he did something good in his death—he brought his sons together.” We clinked the glasses and both took long sips of the cold beers.

  After that, the words flowed between us like old friends. Hours passed as I told him the good stories about our dad, and we found we had a lot of things in common, including a love of art.

  “I can’t believe you’re an artist,” he said.

  “Well, I can’t believe I told you that. I’ve only ever shared that with Rosalie.”

  I wished she was there to meet my brother and hear about everything that had happened. I reached into my pocket, touching my phone to pull it out, then let it go.

  “You should call her,” he said.

  “Really? The guy who can’t settle down and has never had a serious relationship is telling me I should call the girl who just stomped on my heart.”

  “You really are a drama queen, aren’t you?” he joked. “Listen, just because I haven’t met anyone worth spending more than a night with, doesn’t mean I don’t know a good thing when I hear it. Call her. Maybe she’ll change her mind. Maybe if you call her, you can convince her to.”

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket and stared at it. If I could change her mind, she would have called or texted me by now. She would’ve seen that I left and she’d want me back. Or maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe I convinced myself that we were something we never were.

  Noah’s elbow nudged me. “You’re doing it again. You’re thinking too much, Shane. Just call her. See what happens. You mentioned going to California just to get away from here. At least this way if she doesn’t answer, you can go out there with a clear conscience. You’ll know you tried. That’s the best you can do.”

  I hated that he made sense. “And with Abuela’s money, I can actually afford to move out there.”

  “Not only that, but I know some people in Southern California. I have some friends who own galleries in Laguna Beach. I’m sure they’d be happy to help you get your foot in the door with the art community. Maybe they’ll even hang some pieces for you. And if that doesn’t work out for you, you can always use your creative skills in advertising like I do.”

  “You have no idea how much I’d appreciate that,” I said as I rested my hand on his shoulder.

  Noah reached for my phone and slid it closer to me. “Call her already. You’ll regret it if you don’t. Trust me on this.”

  I picked up my phone and tapped on Rosalie’s picture. Her line started ringing almost immediately, but then I heard two rings, then three. By the fifth ring, I knew her voice mail would be answering.

  “Hey… Rosalie,” I said, realizing I wasn’t sure what to say. “I… I miss you… Can we talk? I know it’s only been a day, but a lot of things have happened, and… and maybe if we talked, you would understand how much you mean to me. We belong together, Rosalie.”

  I heard a loud crackle, and then static. The line clicked several times, then went blank. I looked at my phone and realized I had been disconnected.

  “What’s wrong?” Noah asked.

  “I got disconnected. I don’t know when it happened, or how much of my message got through. Maybe none of it did.”

  “Then call her back.”

  “Fuck that,” I said, feeling irritated. “I’m not that much of a pussy. She had to get at least something. I’m not going to call back and sound like an idiot repeating myself.” I tossed the phone onto the counter. “Shit, of all the luck.”

  “Call her back, Shane. What if she got nothing? Do you really want to move 3,000 miles away without knowing for sure?”

  I gulped some water down as I thought about what he said.

  “No, I’m not calling back,” I said. “Everything in me says we’re meant to be together, just like I was meant to go to Philly today and meet you. If Rosalie and I are meant to be together now, she’ll get my message. And if she doesn’t, then I’m meant to start my life over in California. At least I’ll be far away from any memories of her.”

  III

  The Heart Never Forgets

  Four Years Later

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rosalie

  After graduation, I moved to California just like I told Shane I would one day. Not a day went by where I didn't think about him. Despite not seeing him in years, I still remembered the time we spent together like it was yesterday.

  My father and Joanna divorced shortly after I finished college, but remained friends. Even when they were together, I never felt comfortable enough to ask her about Shane and she never mentioned him. I dated several guys through college, but none of them could compare to his memory.

  I had fallen into the habit of Googling Shane regularly over the years but never found any tra
ce of him. Other than my memories, Shane didn't exist. Despite not finding him even on social media, I still kept hoping I'd get a glimpse of him again and see how he was doing. Did I make the right decision by letting him go?

  I knew I needed to get over him, but it was tough. I’d regularly kick myself for having feelings for him still and then one night, while I was out with some friends, I met David. David was nothing like Shane. He was tall and lanky with perfect dark hair that never moved out of place. He was very serious and rarely joked around. He was the complete opposite of my ideal guy, but for some reason, I kept dating him.

  David was at my apartment watching a DVD when the phone rang. I reached for the remote to turn the volume down, but he swiped it out of my hand and glared at me.

  I looked at the caller ID, then blinked and looked at it again. My mother’s name flashed across the screen. We hadn’t spoken in years, despite my regular calls to her. My old feelings of dread crept back and twisted my stomach, and made my heart pound as the phone rang again.

  “You going to get that or not?” David snapped.

  My hand jerked and picked up the phone before David could say anything else. “Hello?”

  “Hello, Rosalie. It’s your mother.”

  “Umm hi, Mom.”

  I didn’t know what to say. Why was she suddenly calling me? She must want something, why else would she call?