Brutal Discoveries (12 page)

“Mmm, god these are good,” I groaned to myself through a mouthful of the delicious cookie I had just pulled from the oven.  It was a new recipe I had found, and I was in love.  Chocolate cookie  dough with crushed hazelnuts and a drop of gooey caramel in the center. 

“Morning, Scar,” Sammi greeted with a smile as she walked into the kitchen.  I had texted the three girls last night and asked if they could all come into work ten minutes early so I could talk with them about something. 

“Good morning.  How are you?” I asked, setting the cookies aside to cool.

We chatted casually until Ella and Macy both walked in together.

“Is everything okay?” Ella asked instantly.

“Of course.  It’s nothing bad,” I placated her. 

“Then what is it?”

I rolled my eyes.  Gee, she was an impatient little thing.

“Aden’s asked me to go with him to Chicago for Thanksgiving,” I started.

“Oh, my god, that’s awesome!” Ella cheered.

“Great news,” Macy said, a huge grin on her pretty face.

“It’s getting serious,” Sammi sung.

“Don’t get too excited.  It means I’ll be away from Wednesday until Sunday, which is why I asked for this meeting.  Are you all able to manage without me here?”

“We can handle it,” the girls assured me.

“Okay,” I breathed in relief.  “I’ll work out a roster and get everything sorted.”

“I need coffee.  Anyone else?” Macy asked.

We all nodded our heads and she made her way to the machine while Sammi and Ella started getting the front ready for service.  I tidied up the kitchen and stacked the dishwasher before logging on to my computer and checking emails.  I had a few from applicants and enquiries for the position I had advertised in the newspaper.  I didn’t have time to go through them now, but I made a mental note to read through them tonight.  With fifteen minutes until opening, I decided to call my mom and tell her about my plans for Thanksgiving.

Generally, I spent the day with my parents and a group of their friends who had no family close by, or in some cases, no family left.  Every year my parents host it at their home and put on a spread that could feed a small army.  Knowing that they wouldn’t be spending the day alone, I still felt hesitant, considering I had never missed being home for the holiday.

“Hi, love.  How are you?  You must have read my mind.  I was going to call you tonight,” Mom said the minute the call connected.

“Hi, Mom, I’m good.  How are you?  How’s Dad?  He doing okay?”

“Yes, yes, of course.  We’re both well.  I have something important to talk to you about.  Well, actually, your father and I both do.  We don’t want to do it over the phone, though,” she stated.  Her voice took on a tone I hadn’t heard from her before and I couldn’t place it.  It was anxious and… scared?

“Mom, what’s going on?”  I felt the tiny hairs on my neck stand on end.

“Please don’t worry, honey.  Just… we need to tell you… we need to explain something, and… well, sooner rather than later,” she managed to say.

“Okay, well, let me see if I can get there later today.  Will that work for you guys?”

“Yes, that will be fine.  Perhaps you should bring Aden, too,” she added, almost implored.  “You two are still together?”

“Yes, Mom,” I answered through a wry grin.

“Good.  Okay, now what did you want to talk about?”

I had almost forgotten what I had called for.  All I could think about was what my parents needed to tell me that was so important they requested Aden be there.  God, I hoped one of them wasn’t sick.

“Scarlett, are you still there?” she prompted when I remained silent.

“Oh, sorry, Mom.  I’m still here, just lost in my thoughts.  Are you and Dad both okay?  You’re not sick or anything?” I worried.

“I promise it’s nothing health-related,” she swore.  “Please, don’t worry, honey.”

“Okay,” I breathed in relief.  “Aden’s asked me to spend Thanksgiving with his family in Chicago,” I told her, going on to explain about the trip.  Of course, she assured me she and Dad would be fine without me, and said it was a wonderful invitation that I shouldn’t decline. 

After I ended the call to my mother, I called Aden.  He wasn’t working, so he was free to accompany me to dinner at my parents’ house.  With that all taken care of, I left my office and began serving customers.  Thankfully, we were busier than ever, so I had not a free moment to spend thinking of what it could be that my mom and dad wanted to speak to me about. 

***

I left work at three and walked home to find Aden on my front step drinking a can of Coke and reading a newspaper.

“Hey,” he said when he glanced up in surprise at my approach.

“Hey.”  I walked right up to him and threw myself into his lap.  He tossed the paper aside just before I collided with his body and then he wrapped me in his muscular arms.

“My sweetheart got something on her mind?” he asked gently, placing a kiss on my hair.

“I’m just worried about my parents.”  I burrowed my face into his chest, inhaling his soothing, now-familiar scent that had magical powers by way of being able to calm me.

“Come on then.  Let’s get on the road.”

***

An hour later we pulled into my parents’ drive.  Aden drove us in his Camaro, while I sat in the passenger seat trying not to conjure up an assortment of awful scenarios.  In the end, he clamped his hand down on mine, brought it to his lips, kissed my knuckles softly, and told me to relax.

With Aden still holding my hand, we walked up the path and inside.

“Mom?” I called.

“Kitchen,” she replied.

“Hey, Smelly,” I said, bending down to stroke the cat who was twisting himself around my legs.  He purred in response and then I straightened and led Aden into the kitchen.  Mom was wiping her hands on a dishtowel and she immediately tossed it and opened her arms.  I let go of Aden’s hand to hug her tightly.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Darling,” she sighed as she placed a kiss on my cheek.

“Mom, this is Aden.  Aden, my mom, Eliza.”

“Nice to meet you, Eliza,” Aden said, outstretching his hand.

“Call me Liz… or Mom,” she replied, ignoring his hand and wrapping her arms right around his middle.  Aden didn’t miss a beat.  He hugged her right back while tossing me a wink and a smirk.

Just then, my dad walked in and I turned to greet him with a hug and a kiss. 

“Dad, meet Aden.  Aden, my dad, Anthony,” I announced.

“Tony,” Dad corrected, extending his hand to Aden.  He took it and they shook firmly.  After the introductions were done, I got everyone a drink and helped mom dish up the food while Dad and Aden talked sports and watched the football.  We ate while making small talk, mainly Mom asking Aden all about his family and his work, and everything else she could think of.  When everyone had finished eating, I cleared the dishes and then we moved into the family room. 

They were both seated across from Aden and I, her hands clamped tightly in her lap, Dad looking at me with a pensive, hesitant look on his face.

“Just say it,” I demanded.  I needed them both to just say whatever it is they wanted to say so I could stop wondering what on earth it was.

“This is harder than I imagined,” Mom whispered on a heavy exhale. 

“We hoped this would never come up,” Dad said, his voice shakier than I had ever heard it. 

“What’s going on, guys?” I asked, my own voice taking on a fearful lilt. 

They shared a look and then turned their eyes back to me.  Aden reached over and took my hand, squeezing gently, letting me know he was there for me.

“When I was young, maybe nineteen or twenty, a doctor told me the chances of me being able to conceive a child naturally would be slim.  I had severe endometriosis and an unreliable cycle. We tried for a baby for five years, I had some surgery, hoping it would help, I took pills, went on diets, cut out dairy, meat, carbs… I tried everything.  Nothing worked,” Mom explained.

“We both wanted a family, but the emotional strain and the constant disappointment every month was devastating.  In the end, we gave up trying,” Dad said.

“We had given up hope of having children, and then we met a couple named Judith and Barry at a party one day.  We started chatting and they told us their children were adopted.  I asked them some questions and that night when we got home, your father and I decided to look further into it.  I spent weeks at the library, researching laws and regulations, the adoption process… everything I could find.  We spoke to our doctor and a therapist, and then we decided to go ahead and begin the process.”

My heart started jumping erratically in my chest.  Beads of sweat began forming on my forehead.

“It was about three months after we got approved, that we were contacted by our adoption advocate, Gail.  She said she had a child for us.  A little girl, only three years old.  We didn’t even have to talk about it, we didn’t have to see her.  We knew she was ours,” Dad said, his voice gruff with emotion.

“I… I’m…
adopted
?”  The notion was so foreign to me, so unbelievable, I had trouble actually speaking the words. 

Mom’s eyes started to glisten with unshed tears.  “You settled in immediately, and never once asked about your birth parents.  We made the decision not to bring them up unless you did.  In a way, I guess we were scared if we spoke about them, you would become upset because you’d miss them.  Looking back, I guess part of it was just us being selfish, just wanting to pretend you’d always been ours,” Mom admitted tearfully. 

I felt like my brain had turned to mush.  My mind was all foggy.  Was this all a joke?  Was I dreaming?  I was so confused.  Blindsided. 

“Why now?” I croaked.  “I’m twenty-nine years old, so why are you telling me now?”  My mouth was dry.  My head felt light.  Aden squeezed my hand again, letting me know he was there for me.  I wanted to latch onto the invisible support he was cloaking me in, but I couldn’t get my mind to function properly.  I was just so damn perplexed.  My brain seemed to be a mess of jumbled and twisted thoughts that were interwoven with tangled and scrambled feelings.  I couldn’t begin to make sense of any of it. 

“At first we didn’t think anything of it,” Dad stated bizarrely.  I gave him a quizzical look.

“The prison program.  Lifelong Friends, isn’t it?” Mom interjected.

“Friends For Lifers,” I murmured.

“Right, yes.  Friends For Lifers.  We didn’t think anything of it, it was just a volunteer program, you were excited about it.”

“It’s been a long time since we thought about your birth parents.  Over twenty-five years,” dad interjected.

“When I mentioned your volunteering to your father, he suddenly recalled the circumstances surrounding your adoption, and we did some searching on the internet.”

“What circumstances?”  It was getting hot in there.  I started fanning my face with a magazine.

“Your… this is difficult for us, Scarlett,” Mom wept.  “You have to understand that no matter what, your father and I will
always
be your parents.  We’ve loved you from the minute we first met you and that love has never diminished.”

“Never,” my father agreed vehemently.

“I might not have birthed you, but I believe you were put on this earth to become our daughter,” Mom said through a sniffle.

“I’m having trouble understanding,” I muttered.  “I…” I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts.  “So, I’m adopted?”  The idea was completely asinine.  Absolutely ridiculous.  I felt like they were telling me the sky was green and the grass was blue.  Preposterous.  “What does that have to do with my volunteering?  Am I not supposed to volunteer because I’m adopted?”  I was usually pretty quick on the mark, but that time, I felt like I couldn’t comprehend something as simple as the time of day.

“No, um, that’s not what…” Mom was stammering, emotional, and drying her wet eyes with a Kleenex.

“Your birth father murdered your birth mother.  He was convicted of that crime and a string of other murders.  He’s serving a life sentence at South Glenn,” Dad blurted.

“Oh, my god,” I gasped, my breath seizing in my lungs.  “Oh, my god.”  I turned to Aden.  “Do you know him?  Oh, my god”

Aden’s palm gently rubbed my back as he whispered, “Calm down, baby.  Take a deep breath.  I had no idea about this, but there’s every chance I would know him, since I work there.  It’s okay, big deep breath.  Good girl.”

“What’s his name?” I asked my parents.  “What’s his name!?”  I felt Aden’s thumb sweep across my cheek, and it wasn’t until then that I realized I was crying.  I took the tissue Dad offered and blotted my cheeks dry.

“His name –,” Mom paused to clear her croaky throat.  “Damon Salt,” she whispered.

Holy fuck.
“Holy fuck!” I shouted.  “Fuck!” I whispered. 

“Christ!” I heard Aden growl beside me.

“He’s… he’s the guy I visit twice a month.”  I was going to puke.  I stood and ran into the bathroom and collapsed by the toilet as I lost the contents of my stomach in the bowl.  I was crying heavily, sobbing as I came to the realization that my father was a
serial killer
.  A
rapist. 
Oh, god, he had told me about his crimes in excruciating detail. 
Holy shit
, I was
his
daughter.  The kid he talked about when he was reading to me.  I was her.  Sandy… the love of his life, the only person to make him smile… she was my mother.  He killed her.  I heaved again.  Why didn’t he kill me, too?  Did the police catch him before he had the chance to watch me die while imagining his parents’ faces like he enjoyed doing?  I vomited again and again until I felt Aden’s fingers sweeping my hair from my face.  With his free hand, he gave me a washcloth.

“Dry your face, sweetheart,” he murmured.  “Stand up and come here.”  He pulled me into his arms and held me until my tears subsided.  I felt like I had been hit by a train. My entire body ached profusely.  I was an emotional wreck.

“Come on back out, baby,” Aden whispered.

Like a fragile child, he ushered me back out to the family room, where my parents were.  Mom was crying softly on the couch.  Dad was pacing franticly.  They both looked to me when I came into the room.

“Oh, darling, we’re so very sorry,” Mom sobbed.

“If we never had to tell you, we wouldn’t have,” Dad admitted.  “We never wanted to hurt you.  Seeing you like this, it’s the last thing we wanted.”

“He’s told me…” I trailed off on a hiccup.  “Everything.  He told me
everything
about the crimes he committed.  The theft, the rapes, the murders!” I cried. 

“Oh, no,” Mom gasped horrified.

“Goddammit!” my father bellowed. 

“We didn’t know,” Mom beseeched.  “We had no idea.”  She put her head in her hands and cried harder.  I walked straight to her and bent down to wrap my arms around her.

“Don’t cry, Mom,” I pleaded through my own tears.

“I’m so sorry.  I’m so sorry, darling.”  We stayed like that, clutching each other, crying together, until our tears began to subside and all that was left was body-wracking shudders.

***

It was almost midnight by the time Aden and I left my childhood home.  After Mom and I had stopped crying, we sat down and talked it out until I began to slowly comprehend the fact that not only was I adopted, my birth father was a serial criminal, and my birth mother was dead from his hands.  I wasn’t sure how to even begin to process my feelings on all that new information, but I knew one thing for sure – Eliza and Anthony Everett were my
parents.
I knew they loved me and I loved them, more than anything.  It didn’t matter that I didn’t have their blood running through my veins.  What I did have, was their upbringing, their love, their morals, their acceptance, and their support. 

“How you doin’, baby?” Aden asked as he opened the door and let us inside my townhouse.

“I feel shell-shocked,” I admitted quietly.

He didn’t offer me any words, he didn’t tell me how I should be feeling, or how he would feel if it happened to him, he didn’t say he knew how I felt.  He didn’t
say
anything.  What he did do, was lead me into the bathroom and turn the faucets on to fill the tub.  Then he undressed me, quickly but gently.  He poured some lavender oil in the water and helped me in.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he said.

“Are you getting in, too?”

He shook his head.  “Be back,” he murmured before disappearing through the door.  I was a little disappointed he wasn’t joining me, but I sunk down in the hot water and let it soothe me.  A few minutes later, Aden returned, and I opened my eyes to see him moving in behind me, a plastic jug held in his hands.

“Sit up a little, darlin’.”

When I sat forward, Aden dipped the jug into the water and then poured it onto my hair.  He was washing my hair.  I think the last time someone washed my hair, besides a hairdresser, was my mom when I was nine and got chewing gum tangled in it.  It felt nice.  It felt… loving.  The way his strong fingers gently worked through every inch of my head from my scalp to the very ends of my hair with tender precision, was absolute heaven.  I closed my eyes and relaxed deeper into his touch as he shampooed and conditioned my locks. 

When the water started to lose its heat, I climbed out and into the towel Aden held open for me.  He wrapped it tight around me and then handed me another for my hair.  I caught his eyes when I said thank you, and I noticed they looked different to any other time I had seen them.  I’d seen them molten, soft, hard, melty, smiling, angry…  Right then, he was looking at me, and his indigo eyes were shining bright with unbridled love.  He wasn’t saying the words, but his actions spoke loud enough for him.  I knew then, that Aden loved me.  I too, had fallen for him in a way I never wanted to stop falling.  I loved Aden West.  I loved him.  I didn’t say the words, but I hoped he saw it in my eyes as I went up on my toes and touched my lips to his.

***

I had tried to sleep, and failed miserably.  I lay in my bed, with Aden’s arm loosely slung over my waist, his soft snores filling my ears.  A quick glance at the clock beside my head told me we had been in bed for two hours, and in just under thirty minutes, my alarm would sound.  With a defeated, tired sigh, I slid out of bed and decided to get dressed and make myself a pot of coffee.  Thirty minutes later, I was dressed and ready for the day, so I decided to go into work early.  At least I could rely on work to keep my mind off the noxious thoughts that kept squeezing my bruised heart. 

Honey, Gone to Sweet Treats. 

Come down when you wake up and I’ll fix you a coffee. Xox

I set the pen down beside the pad of paper and picked up my travel mug of java.  Then I was out the door, my feet pounding the pavement in a quick staccato as I made my way into work. 

***

It wasn’t much of an effort to immerse myself in my baking.  I had soft music playing in the background and I was lost in mountains upon mountains of the delicious, thick, creamy lemon frosting I was swirling onto fluffy blueberry cupcakes.  Once they were all frosted, I expertly placed two plump, juicy blueberries and a tiny lemon peel curl on top of each one before adding them to the display case with the rest of the day’s treats. 

Macy was first to arrive and I saw her eyes widen when she took in the baking I had managed to get done. Jumbo snickerdoodle cookies were the day’s special, and every case was full of delicious food.  I had turned the coffee machine on, the register was ready, and the tables were set. 

“You’ve been busy,” she quipped as she stashed her bag.

“Sure have.  Coffee?” I asked, as I started pouring myself a cup. 

“Please,” she replied with a nod.  We moved into the same effortless routine as always, both knowing what needed to be done for the morning.  Since I had done almost everything, Macy decided to clean the front windows and I got to work in my office going through the interview applications.  I heard Ella and Sammi when they arrived a short time later, and knowing they had the front covered for service, I continued on making call backs for the interview process.  In total, there were over fifty applicants but so far, I had four who I was excited about meeting.  A lot of them weren’t available for full time work, or could only work afternoon or morning shifts.  I needed someone all day, at least five and a half days a week. 

When I came across an applicant named Sandra, I immediately thought of the situation I was vehemently trying
not
to think of.  I remembered asking Damon if he had any other visitors besides me, and he had said no.  Now I know that was because he had
killed
his wife.  The knowledge made me feel sick to my stomach.  Before, I had been able to push his confessions from my mind by telling myself he was simply reading me extracts from a fiction novel, but now… now, it was all too real.  Close to home in the closest way possible.  Did he know who I was?  Surely not.  I wasn’t a three-year-old girl anymore.  I tried to remember if he had told me his daughter’s name, but I couldn’t recall.  Did my parents name me Scarlett when they adopted me, or was the name given to me by Damon and Sandy?  I had so many unanswered questions and the more I thought about it, the more questions I accumulated. 

“Knock, knock,” Ella said, as she tapped on my door, effectively pulling me from the thoughts I was trying, and failing, to avoid.

“Come in.”

“Hey, we’re pretty swamped out there,” she said.

“Okay, I’m coming now.”  I left my office and went out to find the bakery full of customers.  Plastering a smile on my face, I greeted my customers with the service they deserved and expected, and that I prided myself on giving.