Reaper's Salvation (Road to Salvation A Last Rider's Trilogy 3)

Ginny moved around Allerton to get a better view of her mother as she sauntered into the room. Desmond’s comments had eased the tense atmosphere she had created, while at the same time allowing Ginny a breather to check the emotions of being so close to her mother once again. The two-fold instinct to grab her mother in a tight hug, while on the other hand keeping a wary distance in place.

“Yes. Basically, the question comes down to nature versus nurture.” Ginny surveyed her mother and the spectators, taking in the glittering dresses, jewelry, and snobby attitudes of the women, as well as the designer suits and arrogant stances of the men How was she supposed to respond? She remembered just the bits and pieces of the mother and father she’d known living in their little bungalow on Clindale. The woman standing in front of her sparked a spurt of fear inside her, yet Ginny couldn’t understand why. There was no hint of maternal emotion shining from Soleil, instead Ginny felt as if she was being examined like bug under a microscope. “My father told me early on I had been adopted. When I got in trouble, he would blame himself for not raising me right, while the times I did something especially well, he would say that trait must have come from my biological parents. My adoptive father had several children, and he homeschooled all of us. I have to admit, there were times I felt different from them, that I wasn’t as smart or … as special at doing things the way they could.

“There was this one day, I wasn’t able to do something that Leah, my sister, could do easily. I’ll never forget my dad’s response. He had all of us go outside to the yard to our garden, and he said, ‘You see that apple tree? When you pluck an apple, it will always be apple, no matter if you make a pie, candy, peel them, or let them rot. An apple will always be an apple.’ Then Freddy pointed to another tree and said, ‘You see that tree over yonder in that clay pot?’”

Ginny bit her lip, remembering him standing in that yard as if it were yesterday.

“‘That’s a Calamondin orange tree,’ he said. ‘You can use them to make jelly, candy, peel, or let them rot. An orange will always be an orange. I love them both, or I wouldn’t be putting my effort and care into growing them. Don’t matter that one’s harder to grow, gives as much fruit, or persnickety as heck, and some years, don’t give any fruit at all. The only difference between those trees to me is the apple tree is growing in soil, letting the roots spread out, while the orange tree is in a pot, keeping the roots nice and warm. Now, when we pluck those apples and oranges, are we going to be caring about those roots or are we just be going to be thanking God for blessing us with His harvest?’”

Ginny took in her mother’s appearance as she walked closer, from her perfectly styled hair, the pearl necklace she wore around her throat, her black cowl-neck satin slip-on dress, which was lovingly clinging to her body, to the high, black satin heels strapped on her feet; the look created a flawless impression of a woman who was as different as day and night from the mother she remembered. In that moment, Ginny felt a deep sense of loss, as if she just found out someone died, because nowhere within the woman staring at her was a mother excited to see the daughter she hadn’t laid eyes on in decades.

“Your adoptive father sounds like a remarkable man.” Desmond Beck broke the tension in the room after Ginny stopped speaking, and neither Soleil nor she made any further movement toward each other.

“He was.” Ginny tore herself out of her grief. She would mourn the loss of her mother when Gavin’s and her life didn’t depend on her playing a part.

“Hello, Soleil.”

“Evangeline.” Soleil probed her eyes, as if she was trying to determine if she recognized her own daughter.

Ginny intentionally pretended to misunderstand the calculating look, giving Soleil a compassionate one in return. “I apologize. It has to be hard for you to hear me talking about my family in Kentucky while you were mourning my loss all these years.”

“I lost two daughters the day your plane went down.”

“How did you lose Trudy?” Pretending confusion, she glanced toward where Agent Collins stood. “Treepoint is a small town. I would have heard if T.A. died.”

Furiously chewing what he was eating, it took a minute for Agent Collins to speak. “She hasn’t,” he confirmed.

“Trudy refused to come back to Clindale,” Soleil started slowly, as if it was painful for her to talk about. “The plane crash was too traumatic for her,” she explained.