glanced between the two of them. “I was teased all my life for being adopted.”
“Would it have made things better if I’d told you that you were?” my mother asked. “You didn’t feel as though you belonged already.”
“Because I didn’t.”
“You did,” she insisted. “You do. You’re my child. My firstborn. I waited years for you.”
Had my mother kept the truth from me because she couldn’t accept it herself? Had she replaced that dead child in her heart and mind with me and in so doing made what had happened fade away?
“I’m not her,” I said softly. “You buried her in the woods.”
“I know who you are. Just because I didn’t give birth to you myself doesn’t make you any less mine. Once I had you, I was…” She made a motion with her hands, looking for a word to describe that feeling. “Whole. Healed. You used to pat my stomach and call for a brother or sister. Every pregnancy after you came to live with us went to term. It was a miracle.”
Or magic.
What could I say? Maybe I had healed her.
“You still should have told me.”
“Why?” My father spread his big, hard hands wide. “Someone tossed you away to die in the forest.”
“That makes it all right to lie, commit fraud, and kidnap a child?” Owen asked.
“I told you he shouldn’t hear this,” my father said.
“Owen won’t tell anyone.” I squeezed his hand. “Right?”
“Don’t you want to know who your real parents are?”
I already did, but I wasn’t going to share.
“That’s a problem for another day. I’m a little preoccupied with figuring out who tried to kill me.”
“Shouldn’t the police be doing that?” my mother asked.
“How is it that your twin sister shows up in town the same day someone tries to kill you?” my dad asked.
“It wasn’t her.”
“You’re sure?”
“Raye is the same height and weight as me. Whoever put the pillow over my face was a lot bigger.”
Mistress June size.
“Still wouldn’t trust her. Just because she’s your blood doesn’t make her blood.”
That might sound like gibberish, but I knew what he meant. There was a bond in a family that went beyond DNA. I’d shared everything with the Carstairs, and I loved them. But, oddly, or maybe not now that I knew the truth, I’d never felt related to them. Yet the instant I’d seen Raye Larsen, I’d known we shared more than the same nose and mouth. We shared parents and a past.
“I have to go.”
“Don’t,” my mother said. “Not yet. Please.”
“Mom, I have to think.”
Her eyes filled. “You called me ‘Mom.’”
“You are my mom. Nothing will change that. But I have to go back to town.”
“With him?” My dad’s gaze was on Owen.
“He brought me,” I pointed out. “I don’t have much choice.”
“You do, Becca. You always had a choice.”
I was starting to think I’d never really had much choice at all. I’d been born a witch. Just because I hadn’t known it hadn’t made the magic go away.
My parents claiming me as theirs hadn’t changed who I was. My name might be Carstairs on paper, and in my heart because of my love for them, but deep down, where blood boiled and the soul lived, I was a Taggart.
In the same way, Owen’s leaving hadn’t changed a thing. I still loved him. Always had, always would. Couldn’t stop. There was such a thing as destiny, and I had found mine. Or maybe it had found me.
“I’ll call you.”
The tears in my mother’s eyes spilled over. I felt awful. I didn’t want to hurt her. There were far greater crimes than love. But right now, I had to go.
Outside, Owen whistled and Reggie came running. I opened the car door; he jumped in. It wasn’t until I followed that I saw a tuft of fur hanging out the side of his mouth.
“He’s got something,” I said as Owen slid behind the wheel.
Before I could open the door and bail, Owen ordered, “Aus.”
Reggie opened his mouth. I let out a tiny squeak as what I really hoped was not a rodent fell into my lap. It had been thoroughly drooled upon and would have resembled a drowned rat if it hadn’t been calico.
“Kitten,” I said.
Mine.
I glanced at Reggie. He didn’t seem the type to have a pet or a pal.
“Did he hurt it?”
I picked her up. “Not a mark on her except for the drool. He was carrying her very gently, almost as if