Page 37 of Severed Rivalry
“Every place has its challenges. Which weather would you prefer?”
“Sunny. I want to live at the beach. When I go to college, I’m moving to the beach.”
“I love that idea,” I reply with equally as much enthusiasm. “I could use a free place to stay to walk in the sand and hear the waves roll in, especially if I’m surrounded by all this snow.” I gesture around me. “So where are you thinking about?”
“California. Most likely, anyway. They have the best surfing.”
My girl has never been on a surfboard. She’s never been on a skateboard.Choosing a university based around nearby sportsyou don’t engage in is so reasonable.My inner monologue is sarcastic perfection.
“Well, we should start looking at degree programs and costs then. Out of state tuition is steep and scholarships will be the only way to make that happen. You probably should be thinking about the next few years academically, so you’re positioned for it.”
“Mo-om.” The two syllables that greet my ears might as well be twenty it goes on so long. “You got to choose where you went and didn’t have to do it all.”
Little does she know.
Rosie interjects, “You’re right. And you’re wrong, bug. Your mom did get to choose, but she had to make her own way. I wish we’d been able to give her that gift, but Pops and I couldn’t. We did everything we could, but that ‘everything’ wasn’t much.” She turns to me, placing her hand on the table. “It’s one of my biggest regrets in life. I wish you hadn’t had to work so much in college.”
She knows. She knows the hell that came with getting caught. She knows the path that was laid out before me and the instant, permanent change in trajectory that being found caused.
I rest my hand atop hers. “You gave me everything.” I don’t want her to feel guilt for not being prepared for a child that randomly showed at her house. I look at my daughter and my Rosie around the table. “I have everything.”
When I look back to Renée, my snark is gone. “If you want California beaches and surfing, it will take some stellar grades to earn those scholarships, but we’ll find a way. Deal?”
“Deal.”
When I was thirteen, I wanted to be free of a cult. I didn’t know what surfing was or what California beaches looked like. I knew fear. So long as my daughter doesn’t live in fear, everything else is doable.
“The neighbor mentioned a prank involving food delivery and wanted to know if we saw anything. Did you, by chance?” The question is directed at my beautiful, dark-haired daughter. I’m straight-up lying to her. Something I promised myself I would never do, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
“No. What happened?”
“Food he didn’t order was delivered, but it was his name on the sticker. You haven’t seen any cars or anything that seem out of place?”
She shrugs. Yay for no fear, but fuck my life. “Not really. I don’t spend time staring out windows though.” With that, she digs back into her taco bowl.
All the while I’m in the same position I was when I came in.
Worried, with no intel.
And nothing to go on.
12
a symphony of metal
Sariah
I saw Rosie out, walked the outside of the house before the snow, did the dishes, and started a load of laundry. I want to be carefree enough to watch a mindless comedy on Netflix, but my mind, instead, is drawn over and over to my computer.
Renée tried once again to take her phone into her bedroom tonight. I get the testing boundaries thing, but I hate that they’re my boundaries.
I make sure she’s asleep before I grab my laptop and drop into my favorite chair. It’s wide and lush, and I sink in even when I’m curled up. It faces the hall and the living room so my daughter can’t sneak up on me.
I begin again with Cian’s keywords.
Little by little, I find a tale that makes me wonder about his and his father’s business dealings.
Smart research shows yesterday’s dealings were a repeat of ones in Minnesota, Oregon, and Virginia. Same scheme, same play, same outcome. The property owners go to jail. The presumed dealers, since nothing ever sticks, claim diplomatic immunity and are sent home with a new crew coming in to begin again. They bounce around, going from state to state, to avoid continued scrutiny. Each time local officials begin from scratch only to realize it’s the same playbook, with a new location, new detective, and a new victim.
