Madeline continued to immerse herself in the work around the kitchen. In sharing bits and pieces of her life story, she told me that she had always wanted to learn to cook but had never had the opportunity. I’d found her not only to be a fast learner, but she also had a penchant for Russian recipes, dishes and spice combinations I’d never tried and surprisingly liked. Ruby also liked to help her mom create foods that had been a part of their lives for so long.
That left me to do what I did, maintain the households. While many may think cleaning, laundry, and dishes were boring, I found comfort in the commonplace activities. There was satisfaction in a job completed.
The other ongoing activity left mostly to us women was preparing for our expansion. While Madeline and Araneae were the ones with child, they welcomed Laurel’s and my input on all things needed for babies. Laurel at least had a niece to reference. I was woefully detached from all the new and modern baby-care items.
I picked up one of their books and read about care. Simple things like placing a baby in a crib had new rules. They never were to be put on their stomach. And babies no longer wore coats in car seats.
“Are you sure?” I asked Araneae as I considered a newborn in Chicago’s winter—not that Sparrow would ever allow it outside the tower until maybe twenty years of age.
“Yes, look.” She pulled up a page of baby items on her tablet. “It’s because they’re too bulky in the car seat.”
“Oh,” I said, looking at the page. “They have car-seat covers.” We both grinned. “With a little place to see their face.”
Araneae reached for my hand. “I’m having a few of what Laurel calls flashes.”
I nodded, knowing what she was talking about.
“It’s like one of those pictures where they use a million other pictures to make one big one. Do you know what I mean?”
“Yeah.”
Her lips came together and then slid between her teeth as her nostrils flared. “I’m sorry, fucking hormones.”
A grin came to my lips. “Ruby would charge you a dollar.”
She snickered, bringing her fingers to her lips. “Oh, damn.”
“Go on,” I encouraged. “I don’t remember exactly where we were, and I only have glimpses of what it looked like. But there’s one scene. It was dark. I was all by myself and then you were there. I feel bad when I think about it. I mean, it’s only a flash of time, but I shouldn’t have wanted you there.”
Her hormones were beginning to affect me as I swallowed tears.
“I recall feeling alone and then not,” Araneae said. “Thank you. I’m sorry I didn’t do more to help you.”
“How do you know you didn’t?”
“Because I wasn’t hurt like you were. I’m so relieved by the results of the rape kit.”
“Did you have one done?” I asked.
She nodded. “I did. I asked for it. I wanted not only to know if it happened, but to be sure there wasn’t anything, diseases...”
“And I assume you were clear?”
“I was.”
“What matters is that your little one is good,” I said as I looked down at her growing midsection.
“Do you want to feel a kick?”
“Can you feel it?” I asked.
“Give me your hand.” She placed my hand over her blouse. “Don’t be afraid to push.”
It was amazing to me how solid her growing midsection felt. As I pressed, there was a flutter beneath my palm. “Oh my goodness.”
Araneae smiled. “It has been getting stronger and stronger each day.” She giggled. “Sterling felt it for the first time.”
“I bet he was thrilled.”
Her giggle became a full-out laugh. “Without too much detail, I would say he was a bit shocked.”
“It happened when the two of you...?”
“Yes. He has started calling the baby ‘little cock-blocker.’”
My head shook. “You know it is all about him.”
“He better enjoy it because I believe things will change.”
The only baby experience I had was with Missy and being only a year older, it wasn’t that I was experienced. I also didn’t know any of the newfangled swings or bassinets or remember any of that from my childhood.
Thinking of Missy took my thoughts back to my dream from almost a week ago. It made no sense that my thoughts would go that way, but they did.
I hadn’t been raped. Was it too much to ask for a little bit of hope that my sister was alive?
One night after dinner in the penthouse, nearly two weeks after I was found, there was a knock on our apartment door. With Reid on 2, I answered it to find my brother.
“Is everything all right?”
“Yeah,” he said, his lips thinning as he tilted his head. “Can I come in?”
As sure as Madeline had said a while ago at breakfast, those were Mason’s tells. While I let him in, I was pretty sure this visit wasn’t to borrow sugar. “Sure.” I opened the door wider and stepped back. “Can I get you anything?”
He shook his head. “Is Reid here yet?”
“No, he’s downstairs, I figured you would be too.”
“I was. I told him I’d come up here. He should be here soon,” Mason said as he walked around our living room. His green gaze went to a piece of artwork Reid had bought me early in our marriage. It was an artist whose work had been one of our first-ever conversations. Nevertheless, my brother was doing a terrible job of acting casual. If anything, he was doing a good job of acting nervous.
“Mace, you’re freaking me out. What’s going on?”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“Okay, we can rule out life or death,” I said in a wasted attempt at humor.
When he turned my way, I realized my sarcasm had landed like a lead balloon.
I walked to the sofa and sat. “Okay, spill.”
“Lorna, I should have told you this earlier. I meant to, but there are other things happening. And I kept telling Reid it was you who wasn’t ready. He said you were. I think it was me. But, fuck, we need to come clean.”
My mind scrambled as there was another knock at our door. My gaze went to the door and back to Mason. “Reid wouldn’t knock.”
“It’s probably Laurel.” He tilted his head the direction of the door. “Do you mind?”
“Since I seem to be the only one left out in the cold, help yourself.”
Mason went to the door and greeted his wife with a kiss before she entered and assessed the room. “Waiting on Reid?” she asked.
“You are really making me uncomfortable.” As I spoke, the door opened again and Reid stepped inside. His handsome face showed the same unspoken stress I was feeling.
“It’s about time,” Mason said.
“I didn’t know you meant now.”
“I said now.”
Reid came to my side and sat. “I wanted to tell you this before. At first, I agreed to wait because I wasn’t sure, but you’re doing so well, and then because you were doing well, I was unsure if this would set you back.” He barely took a breath through the entire long sentence.
“Lorna,” Mason began, “it’s not Reid’s fault. It’s mine. I take full blame, and if I were honest right now with everyone in this room, I could sleep soundly for the rest of my life not telling you what I’m about to say. Sometimes, omission is a gift.”