Gifted Connections 4

I laughed. “Well, bud, I think we may have to start all over. Baking is like an art. If you don’t follow the recipes to a T, you may have a yucky cake. You don’t want a yucky cake do you?”

He frowned. “No, but I really wanted to eat it soon.”

I refrained from laughing once more. “If you do it right the first time, then you can eat it even faster. Want me to help you this time?” I asked gently.

“Yes please,” he said in a defeated tone.

“Ours is going to be the best,” I whispered conspiratorially to him.

He gave me a broad smile showing me his two missing teeth up front; it was endearing.

Chapter 2

The girls and I were just heading out when I heard my name being called.

“Blake!” I turned and nearly groaned when I saw Miranda, my biological mother, heading my way.

It still felt surreal, her being here

. After eighteen years, thirteen of it believing she was dead, she now stood in front of me.

“You don’t have to speak to her,” Jemmy said with a snort as she grabbed my arm.

In truth, I had been avoiding her like the plague. I wasn’t emotionally ready to talk to her or even allow her to affect me more than she already had. I sighed deeply to myself. Maybe I wasn't fair to the kids. She seemed to have turned a new leaf. Thanks to her connection, Greg. I grudgingly respected him the more I got to know him.

Greg was Will’s—aka Pops—former best friend and business partner. We recently found out Greg had faked his own death to get away from Horatio. If Pops was willing to forgive and even try to start a new relationship with his former friend maybe I could declare a truce. I didn’t have to respect the woman or like her, but perhaps the kids needed to see that people deserved second chances even if I wasn’t willing to give her one yet.

“It’s okay,” I murmured. I didn’t fail to notice how my girls took a step behind me as if they were silently backing me up.

I had seen Miranda trying to gain my attention during lunch, but I had ignored her.

“What’s up?” I asked her as she neared.

It was still unnerving to see how much we looked alike. Miranda had Bridgette when she was sixteen, and less than a year later she had me. Bridgett, my evil harpy sister, now thankfully resided in a top-secret compound and jail of sorts for the gifted. Even though our mother had been on drugs for most of her life, life had still been kind to her. She could easily pass off being another older sister rather than my mother.

We were both around the same height and had the same unruly, dark curls, round face, and the same nose. Our differences were slight; I had green eyes, not hazel, and I was slightly more blessed in the breast and rear department.

Right now she seemed terribly nervous. “I was wondering if I could finally see the boys and Ella, Andy’s little girl? Christmas is four days away, and we got them gifts. I would like to give them in person. If I could.”

“Ella doesn’t know that we don’t share the same father,” I said coolly. “I would appreciate if you don’t bring it up to her yet.”

She nodded in understanding.

I wanted to tell her to buzz off. She didn’t need to be in their lives after abandoning them, but my heart told me that was selfish, that the children should have the opportunity to see her if they wanted to. Instead I nodded. “We are baking cookies on Christmas Eve and watching movies if you would like to come over, but if they don’t want to interact with you, I’m not forcing them.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. “Really? Thank you, we’ll see you then.” She went to turn away but turned back around, uncertain once more. “Can we bring Harry? I mean, he is—” she began, but I held up my hands stopping her.

“He can come too,” I stated before turning and walking away from her.

Harry was yet another sibling of mine. He was three years old, and after being in his presence for less than thirty minutes, I knew he was different. Pops told us that the doctors had diagnosed him with severe autism, but Greg, Hazel, and Will believed he was gifted. They thought that he already was showing signs of being gifted and was trapped by it. A year ago, he had begun to speak and was completely healthy. Then a few months after he turned three, he became nonverbal, wouldn’t make eye contact with anyone, and randomly had ear-piercing meltdowns.

I resented my biological mother, I even despised her, but I felt bad for my youngest sibling by blood. Even though I barely knew him, I honestly believed it was his gift that plagued him, too. If I could use my abilities, I’d like to see if I could ‘reach’ him somehow, someway.

“Thanks, Blake,” she called tearfully to my retreating back.

“I can’t believe you’re allowing her to see them on Christmas Eve,” Jemmy said sourly as I buckled up. “She abandoned them. She abandoned you.”

I sighed, not in the mood for this discussion; I was struggling with it enough. “Miranda, unfortunately, is their mother. We are in a controlled environment. She’s been clean for four years now. Plus, it’s not like she can sneak off and get some drugs now. The kids need to reach their own conclusions about her without my feelings interfering with it. She’s here. She’s not leaving anytime soon, and I can’t continually keep them away from her…even if I think it’s best for them.”