Daughter of Light (Kindred 2)

I took a deep breath and looked away. I was actually forcing back real tears by now. Ava would have been proud of me if she were sitting there, I thought, but I was thankful she was not and hoped she never would be again.

“My mother died a few months ago,” I said without looking at them first. Then I turned slowly, dramatically. “Later, I discovered that my father had already been seeing this woman while my mother was dying in the hospital. It was like having death stab me in the heart a second time.”

Mrs. Winston pressed her lips together and shook her head.

“Mother of God,” Mrs. McGruder said, and she looked up as if she could see an angel hovering on the ceiling.

“I knew it, but I said nothing to him—or to my mother, of course. Two weeks after my mother’s passing, my father brought his new girlfriend home. We hadn’t even put up the tombstone yet.”

“Oh, the hardness cementing the hearts of self-centered men,” Mrs. Winston said.

“They didn’t marry. They had the decency to wait some time before they were going to do that, but she behaved as though they were married. It wasn’t long before she was telling me what to do, and he was siding with her all the time. Finally, he gave me an ultimatum. Accept Veronica as my surrogate mother until they were married—that’s her name; he calls her Ronnie for short—or leave.”

“Your father said that? He gave his own flesh and blood such an ultimatum?” Mrs. McGruder asked.

Mrs. Winston grunted. “I don’t know why that would surprise you, Mrs. McGruder. You and I have lived long enough to see it all.”

“But not to abide it.”

I nodded. “He gave me that ultimatum, so one night, I packed only enough to get away quickly. I had a little of my own money, and I thought I would get new things as I went along. As you can imagine, it was important to travel lightly and get as far away as I could as fast as I could. I don’t intend ever to go back there except to visit my mother’s grave from time to time. I know he won’t.”

“You poor child. Don’t you have any relatives you could have gone to?” Mrs. McGruder asked.

“Both of my parents were only children, and both sets of grandparents are gone,” I said. “I guess you can see how important my mother was to me and I to her. As I said, we were more like sisters.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Winston said. The two women were both silent a moment, and then Mrs. Winston looked up at me again. “What brought you to Quincy?”

Time to mix in some truth, I thought. It’s the recipe that always works.

“To be honest, I read about it on the flight from California to Boston and decided it was a good place to get a new start. I’ve always loved being close to the ocean, but even more, I love being close to history.”

“No question about it. You’ll be close to that here,” Mrs. McGruder said.

“Why didn’t you go to college?” Mrs. Winston asked, still holding on to some of her skepticism and suspicions. It was too much a part of her nature to let them go easily.

“I fully intended to do so, but my father told me we didn’t have the funds and I should first get a job and make some money. We had the funds. I knew it, but what could I do? He made promises that I knew he would never keep. He said he would match anything I made, but once his Ronnie came to live with us, I saw the writing on the wall. There would be little or no money put away for me, no matter what I did. She was always asking him for expensive things.

“But I haven’t given up on going to college someday,” I said quickly.

“Did you inquire about any job prospects here?” Mrs. McGruder asked.

“Not yet, but I’m good on a computer, and I have very good organizational skills. No matter what, I want very much to try to live here for a while,” I said. “This looks like just the sort of place that’s the opposite of where I was in California. I have the feeling that people are real here. I’m the sort who likes to make new friends. My mother was like that, too. She taught me that if you are honest and sincere with people, they will be the same with you. My father taught me the opposite,” I added, grimacing, “but I’ve tossed those lessons overboard.”

Now they looked as if they were the ones holding back tears.

“We have room for only six guests,” Mrs. Winston said after a deep sigh. “Currently, we have three. You’ll be our fourth. There are strict rules,” she added with a tone of admonition.

“I’m not afraid of rules,” I said.

“We’ll see. We’ll show you your room. You’ll be sharing a bathroom with Mrs. Addison. She was recently divorced, and she is waiting for her new house to be renovated.”

“And for her divorce settlement, which could go on for quite a while. The courts here are like the courts in a Dickens novel,” Mrs. McGruder added. “Have you had any lunch?”

“Lunch?” I smiled.

“What’s so funny?” Mrs. Winston asked.

“I w