Page 10 of Twisted Fate

“Coffee?” Vance’s voice broke through my thoughts, and I lifted my gaze to find him holding up a mug.

“Sure.” He poured me a cup and brought it to the table, placing some creamer and sweetener next to the steaming mug. Sinking into the adjacent seat, he stirred a little of each into his drink. I added a liberal amount of both into my cup, preferring a much sweeter version. We sipped our drinks in silence for several long minutes before he spoke again.

“Do you have any questions before I leave?”

I shook my head. He’d been quite thorough when I was here the other day, and I had his mother’s notes to refer to as well.

“You have my number?” he asked. “I want to make sure you can reach me if you need anything.”

I nodded. “I made sure to save it in my phone.”

“Good,” he replied, finishing off his coffee. He headed to the sink to rinse out his mug. “Charlie will be up soon. I’m going to slip out before she wakes. She tends to do better if I’m already gone, and she doesn’t see me leave.” His face filled with melancholy, and I swallowed down my emotion. I couldn’t imagine how hard it would be to leave his child as she cried for him to stay.

“If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call me.”

“Of course,” I assured him.

He hesitated for a moment, as though he wanted to say more, but decided against it and headed for the door. I stayed in the kitchen to polish off my coffee. I had a feeling I’d need the caffeine to keep up with the energetic three-year-old.

Soon, the pitter patter of little feet sounded from above. Charlie was up, and it was time to start our day. As promised, Vance had carried my supplies upstairs and left them in Charlie’s playroom next to her desk. Beside it stood a bookshelf with paper, crayons, and coloring books. There was also a white board, markers, and erasers, so it was the perfect place to set up our makeshift classroom.

I leaned against the doorjamb as I waited for Charlie to emerge from the bathroom. When she saw me, she let out a shriek and bounced on the balls of her feet in excitement. Running to me, she wrapped her tiny arms around my legs. “Wiwah,” she cried, turning the Ls in my name into Ws. “You’re here!”

“I told you I’d be back.” I crouched and pulled her into my arms. The scent of her strawberry shampoo engulfed me, and I inhaled deeply. My heart leapt into my throat when she squeezed my neck. It was the best feeling in the world, one I hadn’t known I’d been missing. Pain speared through me at the thought of all the years I’d missed of this, but I quickly pushed it down as I blinked away tears. I wouldn’t think about that now. I wouldn’t let my regret ruin the day I had planned for us.

“Can I has pancakes for breakfast?” Charlie asked. A relieved laugh left my lips as I swiped a finger under my eye.

“Of course, you can,” I promised as I pulled back and gave her a soft smile, the tension from a moment ago released by her innocent question and childlike wonder. She stared up at me with those sky-blue eyes, batting ridiculously long lashes. She looked so much like me it was uncanny. It was like looking at my baby pictures. She bore little noticeable resemblance to her biological father until she smiled, and a twin set of dimples creased her cheeks. That was the only trait she got from him, which was a blessing in itself.

I forced a smile, pushing down thoughts of that monster and led her downstairs to the kitchen. Together, we mixed up pancake batter and whisked eggs.

“My mommy used to make pancakes too,” she announced, and I nearly dropped the cup I was using to pour batter into the hot skillet. Before I could respond, she whispered, “I miss my mommy.”

A wave of sadness threatened to drown me, but I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to gather my composure. “I miss her too,” I confessed.

“You wook wike her,” Charlie announced, studying my face.

“Well, she was my cousin, and our mommies are twins.”

“Twins?” she asked, her face screwing up in confusion.

“Yeah. That means they are sisters who were born at the same time and look just alike.”

“Oh,” she replied as she worked that out in her head.

“And since our moms are sisters, that made your mommy and me cousins.”

“Does that mean we're cousins too?” she asked after mulling that over.

“Not exactly,” I replied, unsure how to proceed. “Do you want to flip the pancake?” I asked, changing the subject to avoid any further explanations of how we were related. I wouldn’t be able to tell her the truth, but I wasn’t sure I could lie to her either.

“Yes!” she replied, clapping with excitement. I handed her the spatula, allowing her to wrap her fingers around the handle before guiding it to the pan. She stood on a step stool next to me so she could reach and see while we cooked together. It was a precious moment I knew Sarah had shared with her many times before, and it broke my heart that she’d never experience this again.

9

Vance

I walkedthrough my front door just before six. The house was suspiciously quiet as I made my way to the kitchen, following the buttery, garlicky aroma wafting through the air. Draping my coat over the back of the chair, I turned to search for the source of the heavenly scent. A foil covered plate sat atop the stove next to a glass baking dish with a dark lid concealing its contents. I lifted the corner to peer inside, finding creamy pasta with chicken and broccoli beneath. My stomach growled in response, and my mouth watered. Had Delilah cooked this? I didn’t even realize I had these ingredients in the house. Where were Delilah and Charlie anyway?

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