Page 91 of Sinful Skulls
“It can’t be,” she whispers.
“Daisy,” a deep voice says from behind me as warm fingers wrap over my shoulder. Henry leans down and whispers in my ear, “Stay calm and introduce me to your friend.”
Elizabeth looks like she’s about to pass out.
“Elizabeth, this is my … um, my, um …”
“I’m her uncle. It’s nice to finally meet you.” He holds his hand out to her. She’s frozen in her seat. He doesn’t look offended when she doesn’t shake his hand. He lowers himself between us.
“But I suppose you recognized me when I walked in. We were identical twins after all.” His gaze hardens on Elizabeth, and she begins to curl in on herself.
I’m so confused as to what is happening that I begin to look around. Am I awake or am I dreaming? Maybe I’m hallucinating. My heart begins to beat faster and faster. I really need to get some better sleep.
Elizabeth’s hand touches mine under the table, and she taps me twice, pulling me back to reality. She gives my fingers a squeeze.
“You are more beautiful than I imagined, Lizzie. My brother was a greedy bastard. He never sent a portrait of your face; I was only graced with your lovely backside.”
He looks at me.
Lizzie? Why is he calling her that, and why is it so familiar?
My heart slows to a complete stop. There was a Lizzie in one of the yearbooks from the school my father taught at …
She squeezes my hand again, and I turn toward her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
“Oh. Oh, did you not know?” Henry reaches out and touches my face. I jerk away from him. “I’m sorry. I really thought you knew.” He seems sincere, but my question is how didheknow?
He reads my mind.
“You were looking for her. I assumed you found her here. You both share the same mannerisms. Why else would you be here?”
Elizabeth and I turn to look at each other at the same time.Brody. I’m here because of Brody. Does he know she’s my mother?
No. I’m certain he doesn’t know anything about this. He would have told me if he did. I trust him.
She gives my hand one final squeeze before letting go and sitting up straight. “What do you want?” she asks him.
My mind wanders to the painting of her, and the images I created in my head of what she might look like. I stare at the side of her face as she waits for his response.
She’s my mother.
Elizabeth is the girl in the painting.
My mother.
The smile on Henry’s face has me scooting away from the table, ready to run. He shakes his head and points at me with his pocket. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
Does he have a gun?!
Elizabeth reaches out and wraps her hand around mine, keeping me still.
“The three of us are going to stand up and walk out of here, and then we’re going to get in my car. It’s right outside.”
She turns to look out the window.
“Give me your phones,” he orders, holding out his hand.
