Page 1 of Chosen Road

Chapter 1: The Old Days

Amber

This kid was going to fall through the cracks. I could feel it.

I turned away from Mallory’s file to go back to my internet searching, but knew it was pointless. I’d exhausted every community and governmental resource I could to try to help her. Short of a Harry Potter truth serum, there was nothing I could do until she talked to me.

And she wasn’t going to.

I recognized her pain, though I had little right. Her mother was an addict who had dipped in and out of her life since she was a toddler.

Unlike me, she did not have a loving family for the first ten years of her life.

Unlike me, she had no grandparents who stepped in when she was abandoned.

Unlike me, she bounced from foster home to foster home and was now looking at a group home because she was no longer small and cute.

Well, that and the fact that her rage could clear a room in under ten minutes. Her emotions were out of control.

Unlike me, Mallory hadn’t yet learned to lock them down.

Alex’s bouncing step sounded on the stairs. I forced myself to set the file down on the desk Gus bought me for the family room. It was a couple of years ago when I first accepted this position and we realized how much extra work it entailed. He said if I had to bring work home, he at least wanted me to have the option of being in the same room as him and Alex.

At the time it exemplified everything that I loved most about him. Why it irritated me now, I could not explain, but then, everything he did irritated me lately.

Nothing made me happy.

You’re just like me.

I shuddered at the thought. My mother walked out on us when I was twelve years old and Ruby only ten. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she did it only one year after we lost my dad to a five-year battle with colon cancer.

He wasn’t desperately ill the entirety of the five years. There were six really terrible months after his diagnoses. Ruby and I were only four and six and, thankfully, we didn’t understand most of what was going on.

After that, he got well. When I thought back, those were the years I counted as the happiest of my childhood. Back then our home was filled with laughter. Mom took me everywhere with her, and every outing was an adventure.

I could hear her, still.

“Ruby’s a daddy’s girl, but you’re mommy’s girl, aren’t you my little jewel?” She would say, tucking me against her side.

She smelled like the rich mix of spices and fragrances she used to make her homemade candles, potpourri, and perfume oils. She wore soft fabrics that caressed my cheek like a whisper, and I closed my eyes as I nestled in. I heard the tinkle of her earrings as she dipped her face down to brush a kiss across my forehead and gave me another gentle squeeze before releasing me.

“Come on, my jewel. Let’s pop into The Treasure Trove and see if there’s anything weird or wonderful.”

The Treasure Trove was a common stop for us. A vintage clothing slash secondhand store that often lived up to its name. Silk scarves, one-of-a-kind jewelry, flowing skirts and dresses, embroidered purses, beaded clutches, as well as some truly horrendous pieces. The collection was eclectic.

My father’s eyes lit up at the sight of Mom’s smile when we walked through the door. “What new bauble did you pick up, koukla?” His question was always the same, the love in his eyes warm and bright.

“I bought three silk scarves for me and my beautiful girls.” She pulled them from her bag, giving one to me and one to Ruby.

Ruby looked bemused by the gift and ran it through her hands. She lifted it and covered her face and peered through it. “It turns the world purple, Momma.”

“You’re supposed to wear it, darling,” Momma advised her, then turned to me. “Come here, little jewel.” She took my scarf, a golden yellow, and looped it around my neck before wrapping the matching one around her own throat. “There. We’re twins!”

By the time I was eleven, before my dad got sick again, I was well versed in all manner of combining spices and fragrances. While she didn’t allow me to make the candles on my own, I made loads of potpourri, and the perfumes I created rivalled hers. When we did blind smell tests with Ruby, Dad, and Yiayia, mine won the popular vote as often as hers.

She would laugh when that happened and hold me close, her whispered words for my ears alone. “My jewel,It’s you and me, baby,my mini-me, my partner in crime.”

I took after her in coloring, having the same dirty blond hair and light brown eyes. I also shared her same slender build, and apparently the same taste in clothing and accessories. It took me awhile to accept our similarities.

---