Page 8 of A Princess, Stolen
I remained silent. Her words sounded so simple, but nothing about my and my father’s relationship was simple. Even though he loved me, Mom always stood between us. During the yacht accident, he had only been able to save one of us, Mom or me. He had chosen me and that was why I had to prove to him everyday that I had been worth the sacrifice. That he hadn’t made the wrong decision, that I loved him, and could make him happy, like my mom would have done if she were still alive.
A tightness enveloped my chest like it did every time I thought about how that moment must have felt for Dad. He never spoke about it and my memory had put that day in a file that was password-encrypted that I didn’t know. That day, as well as the day before, and the day after. And, every time Dad was disappointed in me, I felt as if he regretted his choice back then, and that I couldn’t let happen. I was in his debt and that was why I would wear exactly what he liked to see me in. Just like always.
My gaze wandered downBelleand I involuntarily recalled Grandma’s words.You were like a fairy to all of us.
I am still that being, I thought. I hadn’t changed a bit. I still wore rustling clothes, smelled of flowers, and always floated through my days as if in a dream. Maybe Grandma would be terribly disappointed if she saw that I hadn’t changed. Maybe she would think I wasn’t worth the sacrifice.
We need to talk. Especially about your mom and dad.
What did she mean by that? And why had she moved to Baton Rouge of all places? I looked at Delilah, who was working on one of the counter-long clothes racks and thought about Rosewood Manor. And the boy again.
I furtively reached for my braid and felt for the rough ribbon in the intertwined strands.
You should never take gifts off, you hear?
I had stuck to that. I wore his bracelet every day, usually hidden in my thick cinnamon-brown braids, which Dad still liked to see on me the most.
I couldn’t help wondering if Nathan still lived in the Baton Rouge area. If he still visited the Palace of Shards when he felt like talking to Lea and if he still had to steal food from nearbyfarms. Probably none of that was true anymore and yet time stood still in my head when I remembered him. And part of me actually believed in the hidden power of the bracelet. Since the day he gave it to me, I had cried less for Mom.
Maybe I was merely superstitious and the bracelet had the power of a placebo. That was how Dad would explain it if he knew about it. But Dad also explained my ability to sense other people’s feelings with my mind by saying I was highly sensitive and could interpret the non-verbal signals of the people I was talking to better than others, which he might have been right about. Nevertheless, I believed in a power beyond our world. In fate. In angels, God, and spirits. I didn’t have a precise idea, but I was certain that vibrations reached us from the other side, similar to a permeable membrane, and that people like me could simply perceive them better than others. Maybe that was why last night’s dream bothered me so much; because it was a portent. Then again, how many times had I dreamed of drowning and nothing ever happened?
I felt the ribbon again and realized that it was the fourth thing that could calm me down. I closed my eyes and saw our gleaming white southern mansion, felt the humidity of the hot air, and smelled the delicate fresh scent of the cotton flowers that always drifted into the shade of our gardens. I saw the boy in front of the wrought iron fence. His sea-gray eyes.I think you cry quite often.
Maybe I would see him too when I visited Grandma in Baton Rouge. Maybe I would have to actually start living my life as Delilah said. And maybe the visit would not only bring back part of my family but also help me to let go of my guilt. Grandma had written that she wanted to talk to me about Mom and Dad. Maybe she could help me understand the events better. I would just ask Dad at the party if I could go see Grandma.
Chapter 3
Our driver picked Delilah and me up in the early evening and, together with my bodyguards, drove us to my birthday party. For Dad’s sake, I had agreed to celebrate at the Pretoria Hotel because, in his opinion, the Pretoria wastheluxury hotel in New York. Anyone who could afford the Grand Ballroom was definitely part of elite high society.
Stunned, I stopped at the entrance and looked around the ballroom. Once again, I felt like I was in a fairy-tale castle. The Grand Ballroom had a vaulted ceiling and a baroque colonnade that framed the interior. Magnificently set tables with golden chairs crowded both sides with the open middle as the dance floor, and at the end was a raised stage. New York’s hottest band, The Marquise, would play. None of it, neither the violinist playing Mozart in one corner nor the opulent feather decorations on the individual tables impressed me. No, it was the thousands of white rose flower heads hanging from the ceiling on gossamer threads, creating the illusion of floating snowflakes. Shimmering strings of pearls dangled between them, scattering the bluish light from the ceiling spotlights.
“Like rose snow,” I whispered, spellbound, and suddenly I felt rather ungrateful that I had initially resisted this celebration. It was so important to Dad to show me his love in this way. Suddenly, I was infinitely happy that I had chosenBelle.
“Willa, there you are, at last! Almost late for your own celebration!” Dad approached from the right-hand colonnade with his arms outstretched, beaming. He was a George Clooney type, charismatic and authoritative. He also laughed a lot, which was why a pleasant ring of wrinkles had formed around his eyes over the years. As always, on special occasions, he was wearing his tailored suit from Dormeuil, a luxury brand usually reserved for kings or presidents. Estimated value: ninety-five thousand dollars. Dad, however, wore it with his own elegance without seeming arrogant.
He hugged me tightly while Delilah and my bodyguards remained discreetly in the background. “Happy birthday, Willa Rae. May life never tear us apart,” he said so softly only I could hear.
When he let go of me, I looked at him. I knew the true meaning of his words. The press called my dada god and a benefactor, but I assumed that a god had the power to determine his own fate. Dad, on the other hand, had been unable to influence the disasters in his life. Unfortunately, his parents’ tragic traffic accident was not the only Armageddon in my dad’s wheel of fate. His first wife, Florentine, and his two-year-old son, Nicholas Jr., died in a fire at the Forb Hotel in Fort McMurray. Dad had lived in Canada for a few months because of the Hampton Oil Company and both were visiting him there. My father had been at a conference when it happened. So, he had lost his entire family twice—and then later Mom. His constant fear for me was understandable.
And I’m toying with the idea of going to Grandma’s alone. Dad would probably go crazy worrying in New York. ShouldI just write her? But Dad would be upset about any kind of contact. It would be best if I just dropped the whole thing with Grandma.
“I love you, Dad,” I said quietly and squeezed his hand.
“I love you even more.” He squeezed back. “Have you found the chocolate fountain yet?”
“I thought there was a twelve-course meal?”
“And?” Dad led me through the right-hand colonnade, at the end of which was something that looked like an oversized cake stand.
“Dad, you’re completely crazy! The chocolate fountain was a joke!”
“I had it specially made. Ten stories high, like you said. The tiers are made of real silver.” He winked at me.
“But it’s not To’ak, is it?” To’ak was my and dad’s favorite chocolate from Ecuador. Fifty grams cost three hundred dollars.
“Of course it’s To’ak! What else?” Dad wasn’t stingy. He wasn’t modest either. When asked how much he was worth, he’d say with a teasing smile:oh, fifty billion—give or take. But, despite his wealth, he never forgot what was most important in life: love and family.
He offered me his arm and I took it. “You look lovely, by the way, darling. I was hoping you’d choose that exact dress.” I just smiled and Dad looked me over before he continued. “I feel guilty that I couldn’t pick you up in person, but I had to clear up some misunderstandings with a unit in the Middle East. A long video conference. How was the journey here? Was there any trouble?”
