“We held a memorial,” Uncle Ben said. “But Wes didn’t want a marker. He thought it would be too much for your mother, and he didn’t want to lose her again.” Ben hugged his wife Penny a little closer. He’d lost her once, long ago, so he knew the pain of that.
“We just never talked about little Johnny Wolf after that,” Uncle Elliot said. It was clear the way he was looking at Aunt Esmeralda that she was hearing this for the first time, too. “It was easier that way, and pretty soon all of us fell into silence about him.”
“It was never meant to be a family secret,” Uncle Adam added. “It just became one.”
“I think that’s how all family secrets work,” Ethan’s bride, Lily, said softly.
Maria-Michelle was shaking her head at her mom and dad, Jessie and Lash. “I can’t believe this. And nobody ever found him?”
Drew, the youngest, smallest, and blondest cousin, rose from her spot on the hearth and looked around the room. Her hair was in a high-riding ponytail that whipped so hard when she turned her head that it should’ve had a sound-effect. “How’s everybody so sure he’s dead, then?”
“Because a newborn rescued from floodwaters would’ve made the news, hon,” her mom, Penny, said.
“Yeah, and so would a dead baby pulled from the floodwaters, wouldn’t it?” Drew shot back. “But there wasn’t one. Was there?”
The elder Brands shook their heads, exchanging worried looks.
“What if he floated to shore across the border?” Drew went on. “No, no, people, I’m sorry, but if there’s no body, there’s no proof of death. No way.” She surged toward the front door like her feet were on fire but stopped and turned. “Willow, you okay?”
“Of course she’s not okay,” Maria-Michelle said, pulling Willow right out of Jeremiah’s arms. “We’re taking her home. Lily? Drew?”
Drew glanced almost desperately at her brother. Orrin, reading her mind, nodded so subtly that nobody else noticed. But Willow noticed. Her aspiring sleuth cousins, Drew and Orrin, were planning something.
“I think I’d better go after my mom,” Willow said. Then she looked at the cradle, and regret swamped her as she realized she’d just stuck a knife into her mother’s broken heart. “Somebody please put that thing back in the attic.”
Camellia Rio
Camellia went home to the cute little Cape Cod in Hobbsville, Texas, where she’d grown up. It was her mom’s place, with a matching two-car garage and a vacant 2nd story apartment she did not want to have to rent. She was in between places now. She’d wanted to be with her mom after her dad had passed away unexpectedly. Heart attack a year ago.
She’d let her old apartment go, because Earl knew where it was, and God knew how many keys he’d had made. She just figured when her mom didn’t need her anymore, she’d find a new place, maybe even in a new town. Though it would be tough to leave her mom all alone.
The house was white with dark green shutters, window boxes, and green roof shingles. When she opened the front door, the scent of roasting potatoes and herbs wrapped around her like a welcoming hug.
“Is that you, Camellia?” her mom called from the kitchen in exactly the same tone she called it every night.
“Yeah, Mom, it’s me. Dinner smells great.”
“New recipe. It’s Monday, you know.”
“Right, Meatless Monday.” Her mom’s latest awakening was underway. Erica Rio had one every three or four years. She liked to say she was in a constant state of evolution. She’d taken art classes, and there was a roomful of her watercolors to prove it. She’d taken belly dance classes and had the abs to prove that. Now she was inching her way into veganism a meal at a time.
When her only daughter had been born, Erica had been earning her certification in flower essence therapy. Hence the name. Camellias were peaceful, patient, accepting, and aligned with their true nature.
The name hadn’t really taken, then, had it?
She was neither peaceful nor patient, and it had taken her twenty-six years to get aligned with her true nature as an independent, single woman. Her most recent and worst boyfriend of all time had shown her the light. Hallelujah, amen.
She dropped her keys into the bowl by the door and thought again about Wolf Travail. The poor guy, losing his mother and his identity all at the same time. The pain in his eyes had reached straight into her heart.
She went into the kitchen and hugged her tall, lean, quirky mother. For some reason, she felt tears threaten as she did. “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, honey,” she said, but softly, and then she turned, clasped her face, and stepped back to examine it. “You okay?”
Camellia shook her head. “Hard case today. How about you?”
“Better all the time. It’s taken a year, but I think I’ve finally stopped waiting for life to go back to normal without your dad. Set the table, hon. The big bowls for this.”
The topic switch gave her whiplash, but Camellia caught up, grabbed the big bowls, plus spoons and napkins, and took them to the dining room table. Her mom followed with a large bowl of rice and another of roasted vegetables. “I’m settling into mynewnormal,” she said. “It’s not the same. It’s different, and it will always be different. I’ve accepted that. But I’m going to make it as good as I can.”
