if to prep herself for a difficult confession. “When Frank and I were having a hard time conceiving, she’d offered to be our surrogate. I…” she squeezes her eyes shut, and Brielle can feel the guilt she harbors. “I have no eggs, so we got a donor, and Samantha carried it all the way. Well, halfway through the pregnancy, she developed feelings for the baby. She couldn’t bear to let it go. I was still so hopped up on hormones from all the fertilization drugs that I broke down. She wired money directly into our accounts to compensate us for our losses, but we got into a huge fight and didn’t speak since.”
Brielle can feel every emotion Bea is struggling with, and she fights back the tears the trauma incites.
“After our adoption went through, I reached out to see how she was doing,” Bea continues, her voice shaky. “I’ve always felt horrible for how everything turned out. She was my best friend, and I still don’t know who was right in that situation, or if anyone was. All I knew was that there’s been this hole in my heart where her presence should be. That was her on the phone. We made amends, and turns out she and young Elizabeth are doing very well. Elizabeth is just entering middle school.”
Brielle can barely stand the pain she feels by osmosis for Bea. Unable to stop herself, and not wanting to, she throws her arms around Bea, wrapping her in a tight and comforting hug.
“I’m so sorry, I had no idea,” Brielle barely manages to say through the stricture in her throat.
Bea pats Brielle’s arm around her. “It’s okay. Really. If the situation had been reversed, I don’t think I could give up a child I carried either. Lord knows, I’ve tried to carry several.”
Brielle tightens her embrace.
After a very silent and bonding moment, Bea withdraws and looks Brielle in the eye. “What I want you to take away from this is, there’s no obstacle that true friendship can’t conquer. If you felt the same bond I did with Sam, and I sense you do, don’t give up. It’s never too late to fix things.”
Brielle swallows, having forgotten the pretense to this confession. Cassandra.
She shakes her head. “I actually tried today.” She raises sheepish eyes to Bea. “That’s why I was late. And she rejected me still.”
Bea nods and pulls Brielle into a motherly hug. “I know. It’s hard on both sides. Emotions are powerful things and warp our perception. But as long you hold strong to your truth, and she to hers, you’ll both figure it out eventually. Just don’t give up. You’re still young. You both have all the time in the world.”
Only we don’t. Chardis’s wormhole may swallow us whole and devour us completely.
Brielle pulls back and smiles. “Thanks. I’ll keep trying,” she says, even as she feels it won’t help. Not until Cassandra is willing to open her eyes and her heart.
Bea looks at the fish steaks that are ready to go into the oven. She wipes her eyes. “Okay, I’ll just pop these in the oven and we’ll be good to go.”
Before Brielle can say anything, her phone rings in her pocket. She pulls it out to see Tristan’s name flashing in bright lights. Her heart twitterpating at the sight, she immediately answers it.
“Hey?”
“Another emergency meeting. Can you make it?” Only it’s not Tristan’s voice, it’s Jareth’s. And it sounds urgent.
Brielle looks at Bea, who’s bending over the oven as she slides the pan of swordfish into its eager maw.
“Uh, I can try,” she says. “Can I just skype it?”
“No, you’ll want to be here for this,” Jareth says. Then he whispers, “Cassandra is coming.”
Like every siren in Brielle's head and physique is flashing a red alert, she automatically declares, “I’ll be right there.”
She hangs up and turns to Bea. “You know what we were just talking about?”
Bea turns to her, eyes filled with knowing. “Go,” she says.
“Thank you!” Brielle praises with the utmost gratitude for her parents’ unwavering faith, then rushes out the door.
This is her chance.
Cassandra is willing to listen!
16
Cassandra
When Jareth had said, “Please come by,” she hadn’t expected this.
The rundown apartment block—at least, Cassandra thinks that’s what it is—she walks up on is so far from a supernatural meeting place, it has her spine sizzling in suspicion. The entire block is absent of any movement, save from the crickets and bats that flicker in and out of sight under the orange street lamps. There