Page 30

Lily

I reach over to pull the seat belt across Theodore, the giant teddy bear. The soft click of it locking in place is the only sound in the quiet car. I giggle when I think about last night when Luka handed me the snuggly beast.

“Are you going to name it?” he asked.

“Name it? You think I should?”

“Didn’t you name all your stuffed animals as a kid?”

I had to really think about it. “I remember naming my dolls, but I don’t think I named any stuffed animals.”

“Well, this should be your first. What’s it going to be?”

I thought for a moment. “Hmmm. What about Theodore?”

“Theodore? Who said it was a dude bear?” he asked, perplexed.

I looked at the oversized brown bear and shrugged. “Looks like a he to me.”

He scoffed. “It could totally be a girl bear. I don’t know how I feel about sharing you with Theodore.”

“Theo for short,” I added, purposely ignoring his last comment just to be annoying.

He glared playfully at me for a few moments, and then he seemed to ponder my suggestion for a moment before answering. “Theo? Really?”

I nodded excitedly. “Yes! Doesn’t he look like a Theo? I can get him a little bowtie and everything!”

He laughed. “Okay, maybe it’s not so bad. Theodore with a bowtie. I can dig it.”

I grabbed the bear and pulled him in tight for a hug, making sure to catch Luka’s gaze. “Thank you for my Theodore. I love him.”

He smiled and pulled us both to his side. “I don’t know how I feel about my girlfriend saying she loves another guy.”

My stomach fluttered, and my heart raced. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”

He leaned down and gave me the sweetest kiss imaginable before pulling back. “Good, because I don’t like sharing.”

We toted Theodore all around the fair. We placed him between us on the carousel, and Luka threw him on his shoulders for the rest of the time because he was surprisingly heavy.

I may have swooned all night long watching him get on ride after ride with that behemoth of a stuffed animal to appease me. I think it was the best night of my life. I know it was the best date of my life.

I’m still smiling as I crank the car, turn the radio on full blast, and back out of my grandmother’s gravel driveway. I look up in time to see her give a big wave goodbye from the steps. I blow her a kiss, and my heart tightens at needing to leave her already. Unfortunately, my mother hasn’t forgotten I agreed to have dinner with them tonight, and there’s no way she’ll let me out of it.

Grandma May declined to go with me. “Your mother would have a conniption if I showed up at her house unannounced,” she’d said.

“It’s Dad’s house, too, you know. He’d never be upset that you came for a visit.”

A small, sad smile had graced her lips. “You know that’s not how it works. Now, go on, or you’ll be late. Tell your father hello for me.”

I’d raised one eyebrow because I knew she intentionally left out my mother, and I didn’t blame her one bit. In fact, I found it rather amusing. “I’ll make sure to tell Mom to eat dirt on your behalf.”

Her head flung back as a throaty hoarse laugh came out. “Oh, I’d love to be a fly on the wall when you tell her that.”

I’d laughed along with her. “Her head might pop off right there on the marble floors in the foyer. ”

Grandma snickered, then gestured me out of the house. “Go, go, now. Make sure you call me when you get there so I know you made it safe. I love you, Lily.”

She’d reached for me quickly, grabbing hold of both my upper arms to halt my progress to leave the house. “If anyone in this family can figure out how to break the omen, it’s you, sweetheart. Have faith in yourself and never lose hope.”

I’d teared up at the sincerity in her tone and the severity of her gaze. It was all too heavy, too suffocating. I’d just come home from the best night of my life, and the reminder that my days were numbered was like being slapped in the face by reality.

I had too much to live for.

Too much I haven’t experienced and so much more I wanted to see, feel, taste…

And I wanted to do it all with Luka Russo.

“There you are, darling!” My mother, Gwendolyn, pulls me into an embrace that could barely pass as a hug. It was basically a swift pat on the back with two air kisses.

I awkwardly turn my head from cheek to cheek because I never know how to respond when she greets me like this. It’s all so weird. What happened to an old-fashioned hug?

I prefer the warmth of a reconnecting hug. The person wraps both arms around you and pulls you in tight. It’s comforting, and the smell of their perfume or cologne makes core memories, tying those people to you forever in those moments.

Luka gives the best hugs. I internally sigh because I already miss him, and it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours yet. I promised to call him on my way back to school after dinner with my parents, and I’m counting down the minutes until I’m in the car.

“Hi, mom. ”

“There’s our girl!” my father, Henry, exclaims from across the foyer.

When I hear his voice, a genuine smile appears. I may have my issues with my mother, but I really missed my father. I’m angry that they kept such a huge and life-altering secret from me. It doesn’t surprise me that my mother did, but it both surprised and hurt me that my father did.

I’m not naive enough to think I’ll actually get answers from my mother. I’d trusted my father back then when I shouldn’t have. Maybe enough time has passed that I can now.

I let him wrap me up in the hug I wished I had received from my mother. He pulls me against his chest. When my ear rests against his chest, I can smell his unique cologne and hear the strong beat of his heart. I sag, partially in defeat and even a bit of relief because the weight of the past few weeks, and especially this weekend, hits me square in the chest.

I hold onto him longer than what my mother deems acceptable, judging by the impatient toe-tapping on the marble floor. The sound reverberates around the room, but he never loosens his grip. He kisses me on top of my head and squeezes me tighter.

“That’s quite the welcome, Henry. Let the poor girl go. You’re probably smothering her.” Her tone is full of snark.

Before pulling away, he whispers, “I’ve missed you, sweet girl.” Then, loud enough for my mother to hear, he says, “How have you been, Lily?”

I close my eyes at the contrast between his whispered tone and the almost tortured, robot-like tone he used when asking how I’ve been.

I swallow hard to clear the emotion building in my throat. I try to remember moments from my childhood when my father and mother were together. I only have a few. They became masters of avoidance, finding any reason they could to avoid being in the same room as each other.

My father has always been warm and affectionate to me. He always scooped me up into big hugs when he came home from work. When we played hide and seek together, he would always say, “I’ve been looking all over the place for my sweet Lily, and I finally found her!” every time he found me .

He would tickle my belly until I laughed, and in turn, his jovial laughter would join mine. Though, now that I think about it, we never played when my mother was home. He always made sure she was out running errands or out to lunch with her girlfriends. He always said, “Mommy doesn’t like all the noise we make when we play. If we play when she’s gone, we don’t upset her.”

One day, we were playing tag outside, and she came home early. I was too little to understand the sudden shift in my father’s behavior, but now I know better. The creases around his mouth from laughing with me transformed into a frown. His body went from relaxed to stiff so quickly that you could blink and miss the change.

I guess I always sensed the change—I just never consciously acknowledged it.

“I’m fine, Daddy. How have the two of you been?” I ask politely.

My mother gestures to my father and me to follow her into the formal dining room, where dinner is already plated. “We’ve been just fine, dear, but you would know that if you called more often.”

Her jab does nothing more than aggravate me. It’s all about control, and she can’t stand that I don’t bend to her every whim since I left for college.

Leaving was the single best thing that I ever did for myself. I not only gained my independence, becoming free from her stifling parenting style, but I also gained clarity.

My father takes his seat at the head of the table, even though everyone in this room knows he isn’t actually the head of anything. However, appearances are everything. My mother sits to his left, and I’m seated directly to his right.

Mom is wearing a form-fitting black dress that hits right at her knees. It has a square-cut neckline, and she’s wearing the diamond necklace Dad gave her two Christmases ago. It’s over the top for a dinner with just the three of us, but this is my mother’s normal dress attire. My dad is dressed more casually, but he’s still in a button-down collared shirt with black dress pants.

I wore one of my nicer dress shirts and blue jeans just to spite her. Even though I brought dress pants to wear, I decided last minute on the wardrobe change. I know she hates that I’m in jeans, but I couldn’t resist the small dig at her insistence that we always dress our best .

I’m surprised the friends she mentioned inviting when we talked aren’t here. I wonder if that has something to do with me mentioning Luka by accident or if I’m reading too much into it.

Either way I’m relieved it’s just the three of us.

“How’s school going, darling?” Mom asks.

“Fine.”

“Just fine?” she probes.

“Yeah, fine . My classes are going well. I’m on track to finish all my pre-med classes this semester so I can apply for early admission to medical school.”

“We’re so proud of you, sweetie. You really worked hard, and I know you’ll be a wonderful doctor,” Dad beams.

I blush a little at his compliment because it means so much coming from him. He knows how tough the classes are. He knows how much dedication it takes to achieve this goal, which the two of us share. “Thanks, Dad.”

Mom clears her throat. “I trust that you aren’t letting yourself be distracted by this little tutoring hobby you’re doing for one of the hockey players?”

My dad’s eyes sharpen at the question, just like my mother wanted. She wants to plant the seed that I’m not as dedicated as I portray.

“He isn’t a distraction. I’ve been helping him in my free time.”

My dad scoffs. “What free time? You don’t have time to waste if you plan to graduate early and with honors.”

I’m offended he thinks I’d let anything get in the way of my goals and aspirations, especially a guy. Even if said guy gave me the best kiss and orgasm of my life.

“Luka isn’t getting in the way of that. I’m still very much on track to achieve those things, Dad.”

“Why are you even tutoring to begin with?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“I’m doing my best friend a favor. My tutee is her brother.”

Mom is surprisingly quiet, but that probably means she’s calculating her next move.

Dad continues to voice his concerns. “I really think you need to just focus on your studies. Your friend and her brother will understand that you don’t have time. ”

“I think it’s good for her to have something outside of her studies, Henry. The girl hasn’t had a true college experience the entire time. Let her live a little before medical school,” my mother says in a supporting tone.

To say I’m shocked would be an understatement.

My father’s mouth bobs open and closed for a second before speaking. “That may be true, but Lily doesn’t like all the things a typical college student likes. She isn’t that kind of girl.”

“Well, maybe she should be. If not now, when? This is her best chance at finding a husband, Henry,”

Annnd there it is . I knew she wasn’t just defending me because I’m her daughter. No, she wants to make sure I catch a man before it’s too late and I’m too old and fat to land one.

“Husband? What are you going on about, Gwen? She doesn’t need a husband when she’s going to be a doctor.”

“That’s my point exactly! Once she starts medical school and her residency, she won’t have time to date and put herself out there. She needs to do it now while she still can. Don’t you want grandchildren, Henry?”

I snort. Oh, she’s going for the jugular, but I still don’t mention that I do, in fact, have a boyfriend.

“You don’t have to worry about grandchildren any time soon, if ever. I don’t have a desire to have children. At least, not right now.”

“I know you have a good head on your shoulders. Just keep that focus, yeah?”

“Of course, Daddy.”

Mom huffs, knowing that my father and I are both done with the whole boyfriend, husband, and children debacle. Luka may be my boyfriend, but that doesn’t mean I’ll let that get in my way of achieving my dreams and figuring out how to stop the omen.

“How’s Grandma May?” Dad asks to change the subject.

Mother loudly clanks her fork on her dinner plate. My eyes quickly dart over to her before returning to my father.

“She’s good. She told me an interesting story, actually. Well, maybe story isn’t the right word to use since it’s a factual part of our family history and not a fairy tale.” I watch his face closely for any reaction, and out of the corner of my eye, I see my mother’s posture stiffen.

There is a small bob in his throat, but otherwise, he doesn’t react. “Hmmm.”

“Oh, there’s no telling what that crazy old bat told you!” Mom’s disdain for my grandmother bleeds through her every word.

“Old, maybe. Crazy, I think not. I had started to wonder if I was the crazy one, but now I know better.”

I have to work to keep my anger in check. I smooth out my facial features, painting an indifferent look on my face. I know my mother hates Grandma May, but hearing her call her crazy really gets under my skin.

My father’s face pales, and he sets his fork down on the plate, leaving the uneaten lettuce dangling from it. “What’s this about?” he asks.

I move the lettuce around on my plate, no longer in the mood to eat and needing the task to steady my shaky hands. “Have you ever heard the name Emily Jane Abbott?” I don’t pause long enough to hear their answer because it doesn’t really matter anyway. “Born June 28, 1804.”

“What in the world are you going on about?” Mom interrupts, but I ignore her and keep going.

“Date of death, December 12, 1890. Eighty-six years old. What makes her interesting is she had prophetic dreams about her death that some would call omens .”

“Lily,” Mother warns, but I continue.

“She’d had dreams about her death since she was five.” I keep my voice steady and never break eye contact with my father.

I can see my story rattles him, but nothing will stop me from confronting the two of them. There isn’t a thing they can say to make up for keeping this from me. I just want to understand why they did.

“This dream continued all the way through her childhood and into her early twenties. Each time, it became more and more vivid until one day, the entirety of her reoccurring dream death played out like a movie as she slept. She even described being able to smell the smoke from the fire that was supposed to claim her life. “

He gulps. His eyes are wide, and his skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Maybe I should feel bad for doing this to them—him in particular. However, when I think back to the many, many times they made me feel like something was wrong with me because of how insistent I was that my dreams were real, I lose any compassion I may have held for them.

“Ask me what happened next,” I command.

“Lily Grace McKenna, this is an unacceptable dinner conversation. I forbid you from continuing with this nonsense.” Mother theatrically throws her napkin down beside her plate.

I snort and tilt my head to the side, looking directly at her while speaking to my father. “Did you know that a Mute Swan is considered to be one of the most beautiful waterfowls? So much so that famous plays and fairy tales have celebrated the bird’s regalness and elegance?”

“What in the world are you going on about? We’re talking about birds now?” Mother sputters.

It’s kind of fun to see her off-kilter with the change of subject, but what she doesn’t realize is that I’m comparing her to a Mute Swan. She is always put together on the surface, not a hair out of place, and her demeanor is always calm and patient.

My father and I know that’s just a facade she shows everyone. Under the surface, she’s anything but those things. She’s cruel, aggressive, manipulative, and deceitful. I refuse to accept that my father is the same as her.

I don’t answer her. Instead, I turn my gaze to my father. His eyes are still wide, and his attention is solely focused on me.

“They’re also one of the most aggressive waterfowls. Most times, they injure, kill, or displace any other waterfowl or native bird that it deems to be a threat to its environment or food source.”

He closes his eyes momentarily.

My mother huffs from across the table, her frustration with me clearly building. “Stop this nonsense—”

“That’s enough, Gwendolyn!” my father snarls, it’s the first time he has spoken since I started the story .

My mother is stunned to silence because my father has never raised his voice to her.

His face is red from anger, and that once thin sheen of sweat has turned into more of a downpour. He uses his napkin to dab his upper lip and forehead, and when he looks at me, all I see is sadness and regret.

My heart races as I reach over to take his closed fist which is on top of the table. He immediately opens it and tightly takes mine in his.

“Tell me what happened to Emily,” he demands softly, his voice anguished.

Mom watches the exchange between us, and much to my surprise, she doesn’t try to stop me from finishing.

“Emily went on to die from a heart attack and old age. Not from a fire like her dreams insisted she would.”

My father pulls in a sharp, stunned breath, gripping my hand even tighter. “ No. ”

“ Yes ,” I whisper, tears gathering in my eyes.

Finding out what happened to Emily is my only hope of breaking my own omen and setting myself free from this curse that has plagued my family for centuries. It seems my father understands exactly what Emily’s story means.

It means there’s hope.

“Henry! Don’t you understand what this means? That ridiculous story your mother always droned on about isn’t even true! She died a completely different way,” my mother exclaims giddily.

A small glimmer of understanding clicks into place for me. She never believed the omen was real . To her, Grandma May was just lying or crazy.

Dad is already shaking his head. “No, Gwen, that isn’t what it means. The Abbott Omen is as real as you and me sitting here at this dining room table. What it means is that someone in the family figured out how to break the curse.” There is an air of excitement and hope radiating from his being.

“ Exactly, and I plan to be the next,” I say. Now that there is a glimmer of hope, I won’t give up until I figure out a way to stop the dream from happening in the first place.

Trust your heart, Lily. It holds the key .

I close my eyes as soon as the voice appears, and Luka’s gray eyes instantly find me. An incredible sense of relief and hope suddenly fills my chest, and I gasp as my eyes fly open, startled. That feeling isn’t new, but the fact that it came when I wasn’t asleep—in the throes of my dream—is.

“What is it?” My father leans forward anxiously, his grip on my hand becoming even tighter, almost vicelike with his worry.

“I don’t know what it means yet, but I think he is the key.” I swallow hard. I don’t want to tell Mom about him, but this isn’t about the hotshot hockey player. This is about the Omen. “ My boyfriend. Luka Russo.”

I watch my mother’s eyes light up in satisfaction and my father’s drop in disappointment and defeat.

I didn’t mean to say that last part out loud, but there’s no taking it back. I find I don’t want to.

It feels so good to say it out loud, finally.