Zac took her water away.She reached out for something else to hold on to and found his hand.He’d been sitting quietly, watching everything unfold, but she’d known he was there.He felt solid at her back, warm and real.Everything else had a bizarre funhouse feel to it.He was the only thing keeping her centered.
She’d deal with the fact that she was on his lap later.
Finally, Lexie turned.She licked her lips, but her coloring still hadn’t come back.“You were raised by your parents?”
“Yes, until—”
“Can we meet them?”Roxie said in a rush.
Maxie’s heart panged.There was so much hope and dread mixed together in the woman’s eyes it was hard to look at her.Maxie didn’t know why, but she squeezed the sheriff’s hand.
“I’m sorry,” she said hoarsely.“They died in a car accident when I was seven.”
Tears streamed down Lexie’s face.They just spilled over and trailed down to her chin.Roxie exploded off the sofa with a curse and paced the room.She stopped at the far corner and hung her head low.
It was a long time before anyone spoke.
“Do you have pictures?”
The question came from the corner where Roxie stood, still as a statue.
“Yes.”Eager to dim the pain floating in the air, Maxie started to push herself up, but a hard band wrapped around her waist and refused to let go.
“I don’t trust you to stay on your feet,” Zac said into her ear.
Embarrassed, she settled for pointing above her desk.“Second shelf on your left.My grandmother is in the picture next to it.”
It was Lexie who moved.She went to the shelves and lowered a photograph of a smiling couple.Maxie huddled against Zac.The people in that picture were precious to her.She’d only had them for seven years, and she’d lost them too soon.Her memories of them were sketchy and limited, but what she could remember was happy.She didn’t want those memories marred.
Lexie’s fingers trembled as she traced the faces underneath the glass.“They look happy,” she murmured.“Nice.”
“They were,” Maxie said.
“What were their names?”
“Pete and Mary Miller.”
Over in the corner, Roxie rolled her neck.She turned and determinedly walked back across the room.Looking over Lexie’s shoulder, she took in the picture for a long, long time.“That’s not our parents.”
Lexie whipped her head around.“What?How do you know?”
“They’remyparents.”Maxie’s voice was sharp, and her guard was immediately back up.
“I remember our mom,” Roxie continued quietly.
Lexie’s jaw dropped.“You never told me that.”
Roxie didn’t respond.She just reached past her and grasped the picture.She was gentle with it and respectful, but she put it back in its place on the shelf.“This woman has red hair.Our mom had long, dark hair, and she smelled like lilacs.”
Lilacs.
Even as Maxie prepared to fight for her mother, the statement caught her off-guard.Lilacs had always been her favorite flower.She loved the purple blooms and the aromatic sprigs.They came and went too quickly, but she enjoyed them in the early spring while they were there.That scent.She could inhale it for hours.
“Maxie?”Zac said into her ear.
Roxie sat on the desk.“It’s all I remember, but it’s enough to know that that’s not my mom.”
Confusion and hurt lay in the air, bumping up against anger and distrust.Maxie didn’t know what these strangers wanted out of her.That washermom.She might not have taken after her, but that was her mother.
