Page 4 of Salvation
Grumbling, I walk out of my bedroom and to the front door. My hand falls on the knob, and I slowly pull open the door. Honey-colored eyes meet mine, and this time, they are real.
Chapter 2
Ivy
Nine Years Old
I’m sitting in a huge living room with couch cushions as hard as the floor. My feet don’t reach the ground, so I swing them back and forth while we wait.
A lady sits beside me. My grandmother—or so I’m told. Her gray hair is slicked back into a bun, pulling her skin so tight it hides some of her wrinkles. Her mouth is stuck in a hard line, and she stares straight ahead while I stare at the side of her face.
“Say something. Say something. Say something,” I chant in my head, but her lips stay pressed together, and I sigh, looking away.
A clock chimes somewhere deep within the house, and I sit up, listening. When the halls stay silent, I slump back down.
I’m going to be stuck on this couch forever.
My grandmother’s sharp eyes slice my way before facing forward again. Her hands settle in her lap, and I mimic her. Maybe that will make her happy.
I watch her out of the corner of my eye, trying to decide if we are really from the same family. I never heard my mom talk about her—or her dad. But apparently, she had one of those, too. I haven’t met him yet. That’s who we are waiting on. My mom was always late for everything, too, so that makes sense.But I think they might have lied about the woman beside me being my grandmother. She’s nothing like my mom.
She points her chin into the air, and I do the same.
Finally, after what feels like hours, solid footsteps echo through the hall. I sit forward, stretching my neck to see further, and watch as a man approaches. My grandmother is stiff when the man reaches the end of the hall, blocking out the light behind him.
My eyes start at his feet, covered in shiny black shoes, and slowly drag up over long legs and pressed pants until my head is tilted back, and I stare into a pair of dark eyes.
I think my mother was adopted.
My grandfather’s big, bushy eyebrows are drawn down, and the shadows across his face make him look scary. His mouth is downturned as he studies me.
“What is this, Jane?” he asks, his voice rumbling through the room. I flinch, and his frown grows deeper. “I was in an important meeting. Who is this girl?”
My grandmother stands, her movements graceful like the ballerinas in my old dance studio. She grabs my arm, pulling me to stand with her, and her nails dig into the underside of my skin.
I whimper, and she shoots me a disapproving glare.
“Stop that,” she hisses. I want my mom, but I don’t say that aloud. I’m too scared to. “It would seem your daughter had an illegitimate child when she ran away.”
His eyes slice to her. “And where is our daughter now?”
“Dead.” My grandmother’s voice is cold, and tears burn my eyes. I think she’s a robot. “There was a car accident.”
A growl rumbles from my grandfather’s chest. “That girl—always leaving a mess behind.” His eyes flash to me, and he takes a menacing step forward. My grandmother’s hand is still on my arm, so even though I want to run and hide, I can’t.
“First rule, girl,” he says, sneering down at me. “You will not turn out like your mother. If you are going to live in my house, you will abide by my rules. Do you understand?”
I want to argue and tell him there was nothing wrong with my mom—that she was better than he would ever be—but when I don’t answer right away, my grandmother shakes me so hard my teeth clink together.
“Yes,” I whisper.
My grandfather stands taller, dusting off an invisible piece of lint from his shirt. “Good. Now run along and find something to do. Your grandmother and I have much to discuss.”
My arm is released, and I do as he says, already planning ways to run away.
______________________
I’m standing outside of my grandfather’s study, a thick wooden door separating me from them, but it’s not thick enough to muffle my grandfather’s voice. I can hear everything he is saying as if he were standing right beside me.
