Chapter 69

“Vicky gave me up?”Kayla repeated. The meaning of Elsie’s words just out of her reach. “What are you talking about?”

Elsie’s wide eyes shot to Jillian, whose pained expression made something crack deep inside Kayla’s chest.

Her captor’s momentary shock dissipated. Elsie shrugged, though the action held no arrogance, no triumph. “Seems I set your little secret free, Jill.”

“Secret? What secret?” Her psychotic aunt’s meaning finally penetrated her confusion, but she couldn’t bring herself to believe that her entire life had been a lie. A lie told to her by two of the most important people in her life. “Mama?”

Jillian lifted her tear-drenched gaze to Kayla’s. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

A lump the size of a beach ball lodged in Kayla’s throat. It took her several attempts to work around it, to get the words out. “Vicky’s my mom?”

“Biological, yes.”

“Why?”

Why didn’t she want me? Why didn’t you tell me? Why? Why? Why?

“It’s complicated.”

“Actually, it’s pretty straightforward,” Elsie countered. “Vic found out she was pregnant right after she’d decided to run for county commissioner.” She looked at Jillian as if to hand her the it’s-your-story baton, but the distraught woman could only stare at Kayla, as if she were afraid her daughter would disappear forever.

Exasperated, Elsie continued, “Jill talked Vic into letting her adopt you rather than . . .”

“Abort me?” Kayla finished, when the other woman’s bravado wavered.

Another lift of the shoulder. “Vic wanted a career. Jill wanted you.”

Kayla looked to Jillian for confirmation.

“I loved you from the moment I heard your tiny, galloping heartbeat on the ultrasound.”

The muscles in Kayla’s throat constricted to the point of pain.

“Even though Vic chose her career over motherhood,” Elsie smirked, “she couldn’t quite let you go.”

There had always been something special about her and Vicky’s relationship. She’d mistakenly thought it was the godmother connection.

Did Vicky ever regret her decision? Or had she been content to be in Kayla’s life as a beloved auntie?

Kayla dropped her head into her hands. The events of the past week whipped through her head like scattershot. It was all too much.

A warm, trembling hand settled between her shoulders. Rather than provide comfort, Jillian’s touch seared her flesh, burned her nerve endings, incinerated every happy family memory from birth to truth.

“Victoria and I talked about telling you,” Jillian said, rubbing a circle on her back like she used to when Kayla was younger. “Planned to do it very soon.”

Heat poured into her temples, pounding at the thin barrier for release. “Why now?”

Jillian’s hand stilled.

“Why after thirty-five years of deception would you decide to tell me?”

Silence met her query, and Jillian slowly removed her hand.

Kayla erupted from the sofa, putting more distance between them. “Tell me, Mama!”

The guard’s casual stance stiffened, but he didn’t force her back down.

Like a lioness sensing wounded prey, Elsie turned bright eyes on the quiet woman beside her. “What have you been keeping from me, dear friend?”

Jillian ignored her. Lifted tear-soaked eyes to Kayla. “I have stage four colon cancer.”

Stage four.

To her shame, Kayla realized that she didn’t know much about colon cancer. But she knew stage four was bad. Really bad. Terminal bad.

“Mama, no.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

The tired eyes, the weight loss, the lack of appetite. Why hadn’t she added it all up before now? The clues were there, and she’d dismissed them. Blamed them on fatigue and stress. If she’d been paying better attention, maybe they could have caught the cancer before it metastasized to other parts of her mother’s body.

Kayla sat next to her mother, held her hands. “I’m the one who should apologize. I assumed your heavy schedule was the cause of your exhaustion and changes in physical appearance.”

“I fed your assumptions. It’s not your fault.”

“Why?”

“I needed to get second and third opinions, needed to speak with your father. Needed to wrap my own head around the illness so I could be strong when the time came to prepare everyone around me.”

Tears ran freely down Kayla’s cheeks as she dropped to her knees and folded her arms around Jillian. She buried her face in her mother’s hair, inhaled her familiar shampoo-y scent. “All you need to focus on is your health.”

Elsie took the moment to poke and stab. “How relieved you must be, Jill, for this opportunity.” She gestured to the tainted wine. “This act of kindness.”

“Kindness,” Kayla sputtered.

“Months of pain and suffering reduced to minutes, seconds, even.”

When her mother said nothing, Kayla eased away and looked into her red-rimmed eyes. Eyes of acceptance.

“No, Mama. No, no, no. You will not give up. I won’t let you.”

“I won’t be the only one suffering through months of treatments that will only forestall the inevitable. You, Gordon, Harper—you will all feel the pain right along with me.”

“A small, very small price to pay to have more time with you.”

“Even if the time is spent in hospitals and treatment centers?” Jillian shook her head. “I don’t want that for you. For us.”

“Mama—”

“Take heart, Kayla,” Elsie said, impatient. “You enjoyed two moms for the first third of your life. Many don’t even get one.”

The tension in Kayla’s head ratcheted until she was certain her eyes would explode. She transferred her full attention to the monstrous stranger. “Until you killed Vicky.”

“Technically, Sybil ordered the hit on Victoria?—”

Kayla launched herself at Elsie. “You killed her! You killed my godmother. Your friend!”

She slammed the heel of her hand into the woman’s forehead. “How does that feel? Hurt? It’s nothing compared to being shot in the head.”

She hit her again. And again.

Marco grabbed both of Kayla’s upper arms and flung her to the side. She flew across the room and crashed into a four-foot-tall pedestal holding a large potted aloe.

The spiny plant teetered, and Kayla attempted to roll away. But the hard landing had stolen her breath, and all her energy was consumed with jumpstarting her breathing again.

When the plant lost its battle with gravity, she braced herself for impact, already anticipating the excruciating crunch as her ribs gave way to the heavy ceramic planter.

A flash of red silk and dark hair rushed forward.

Jillian dove for the container, shoving it in an attempt to change its trajectory. But she miscalculated the speed of the falling planter—and the location of Kayla’s left foot. Those two elements combined sent Jillian plowing headfirst into the unforgiving ceramic.

Kayla heard a dull thunk seconds before Jillian crashed to the ground. One of her mother’s knees jabbed into her stomach, sucking what little air she’d scrounged up right out of her lungs.

Jillian’s eyelids fluttered once, twice, before unconsciousness claimed her.

The planter missed Kayla and crashed against the hardwood floor. The perlite infused potting soil spewed out of the container and the succulent’s dense, aloe-filled leaves sagged to one side.

Kayla drew in a pocket of air. “Mama!” She brushed a lock of long hair from her mother’s face and held the backs of her fingers beneath her nose, while she watched for the slow rise of her chest.

When she felt and saw both, the elbow holding her up gave way and she slumped to the floor.

“Well,” Elsie drawled from the sofa, “I guess there’s no need to ply her with wine now.”