Most Precious Blood (12 page)

“Hey, look,” Kit said. “You want to play ‘I suffer more than you do,' I'm ready.”

“No,” Val said, although it was a temptation. “I'm glad you're happy. I really am. How about a very soft yellow?”

“I like the sound of it,” Kit said. “But what about the woodwork? And what color should my new bedspread be, and the curtains?”

The doorbell rang before Val could come up with an answer. “You expecting someone?” she asked.

Kit shook her head. “Want to come with me?”

“Okay,” Val said. The two girls went downstairs, and Kit opened the door. When the doorbell rang at Val's house, Bruno or Connie always answered. Now that Val thought about it, she wasn't allowed to open the door by herself.

It was Malcolm. “Do you mind a surprise visitor?” he asked. “I thought since we didn't have that long to visit on Tuesday, I'd come on over today.”

“I'm glad you did,” Kit said. “Come on in. Val's here.”

“I see,” Malcolm said. “Hi, Val. How're things?”

“They're the same,” Val said.

“Going with the status quo then,” Malcolm said. “I don't blame you. Have you heard anything about your mother, Kit?”

“Pop talked to her doctors yesterday,” Kit replied. “They say she's a very sick woman.” She smiled, but the joy was gone. “This is not a major revelation.”

“Maybe this clinic is the answer,” Malcolm said.

“Oh, Malcolm,” Kit said. “It's the fifth rehab center in three years.”

Val had a strong and unpleasant feeling of being excluded. It wasn't right. She'd known Amanda a lot longer than Malcolm had, even if they were related. And before Malcolm came, she and Kit were managing just fine, actually having a good time. Kit must know it was a fool's paradise, but that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy it while it lasted.

“How about something to drink?” Kit asked. “This time I have ginger ale and everything.”

“Sounds good,” Malcolm said.

“I don't think so,” Val said. “I should probably be going home now.”

“So soon?” Kit asked.

Val nodded. “I have a lot of homework to do,” she said. “And a French test tomorrow. I'll call Bruno and ask him to pick me up.”

“All right,” Kit said.

Val walked over to the telephone and dialed her home number. She got a busy signal. “Busy,” she told them. “I don't feel like waiting. I'll just walk home.”

“You know you can't do that,” Kit said.

“Why not?” Malcolm asked. “Is it too far?”

“She isn't allowed,” Kit replied. “And if she does, then Rick'll get mad at me for not making her wait.”

“Do you think something bad'll happen?” Val asked. “Do you think Jamey'll suddenly be transferred to Detroit?”

“All I think is you should wait a few minutes, and try calling again,” Kit said.

“No,” Val said. “I want to go home now.”

“I'll drive you,” Malcolm said.

“Malcolm,” Kit said. “You don't have to do that.”

“No, it's all right,” he said. “I'll come back here, once I see Val's safely home.”

Kit was silent for a moment. “All right,” she said. “But don't take too long, okay?”

It angered Val that Kit was so eager to have Malcolm to herself. She obviously wanted him around because he was a relative, he was blood. In years past, that wouldn't have bothered her nearly so much. She could always go to Michelle, or some other Castaladi. But now she had no one, and Kit didn't even seem to care.

She barely said goodbye to Kit, and didn't open her mouth again until Malcolm had begun driving away. She wouldn't have spoken then, if he hadn't asked her a question.

“You and Kit have a fight?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “I just think she could be a little more sensitive to my needs.”

“Kit has a lot on her mind right now,” Malcolm said.

“I know that,” Val said. “She reminds me all the time. But I'm the one who just found out she was adopted. You'd think that would count for something.”

“Kit's worried about you,” Malcolm said. “I called her yesterday to see how things were going, and she told me what was happening with you. But right now, she's trying to get her own life in order.”

“She's trying to pretend her mother's dead,” Val said. “She and Jamey are acting like Amanda doesn't exist anymore. It makes me sick. My mother is dead, well I thought she was my mother, and I miss her all the time.” She fell silent for a moment, as she realized that was true. She thought she'd stopped missing her mother long ago, but ever since she'd opened her mother's secret shoe-box, she'd found herself longing for her mother's touch, the sound of her voice, the way she knew how to comfort when it seemed that nothing could lessen the pain.

But Malcolm didn't know Val well enough to understand her silence. “I know you're going through a very rough time,” he said. “But Kit seems sure things are going to work out for you. And she needs this time away from Amanda. The second time I was over there for dinner, Amanda got stinking drunk, and it was terrifying. I've seen people drunk before, but never like that.”

“Kit's used to it,” Val said.

Malcolm shook his head. “You don't ever get used to that kind of anger,” he said. “Even Jamey was scared.”

I'm scared too, Val thought, but she didn't say it. “My house is the next block down,” she said instead. “The one in the middle with the fence.”

“I see it,” Malcolm said. He drove in front of it and parked.

“Thank you,” Val said. “Goodbye.”

“I'll come in with you,” Malcolm said.

“You don't have to,” Val said.

“I think I'd better,” Malcolm replied. “In case Kit asks.” He got out of the car and watched as Val unlatched the gate.

“Connie'll probably ask you to stay,” Val said. “But I know you want to get back to Kit.”

“That's all right,” Malcolm said. “I'm just making sure you get home safely.”

Val unlocked the front door. But before she had the chance to open it completely, her father did it for her.

“Valentina,” he said. “How did you get home?”

“I got a ride,” Val said. Did he have to call her that stupid name? And in front of Malcolm, who had probably thought she was named Valerie or something else equally as sensible.

“From who?” Rick asked.

“From me,” Malcolm said. “I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Malcolm Scott.”

“Malcolm Scott,” Rick said. “What kind of a name is that?”

“Make a wild guess,” Malcolm said. “Well, Val, I've left you safely in the arms of your bodyguard. I might as well get going.”

“Bodyguard!” Rick said. “I'm no bodyguard. I'm her father.”

“Whoops,” Malcolm said. “Sorry. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Castaladi, but I really have to go now.”

“Wait one second, young man,” Rick said.

“Daddy,” Val said.

Rick ignored her. “How do you know my daughter?” he asked. “Do you go to Sacred Heart?”

“I'm not even Catholic,” Malcolm said.

“You're not?” Rick said. “Val, go to your room at once.”

“Daddy, stop it,” Val said. “Malcolm's Kit's cousin. That's all.”

“Her cousin?” Rick asked.

Malcolm nodded. “My mother and Amanda are sisters,” he said. “I was over at Kit's, and Val wanted to go home, and she called here and got a busy signal, so I offered to drive her. I didn't realize I had to be a Catholic to give a girl a lift.”

“I don't care for funny business,” Rick said. “Not if my daughter's involved.”

“I understand, and I don't blame you,” Malcolm said. “And I truly am sorry about that bodyguard crack. It's just where I come from, Indiana, sixteen-year-old girls walk home by themselves all the time. I guess customs are different here.”

“I'm sorry too,” Rick said, and he no longer looked like he wanted to take a swing at Malcolm. “It was very nice of you to give my daughter a lift. But I'm sure you understand my concern when I see her coming home with a strange boy.”

“Not really,” Malcolm said. “That's another thing sixteen-year-old girls do in Indiana.”

Rick smiled. “I think we've established that we're not in Indiana,” he declared. “Now I'm sure you want to get back to Kit.”

“Very much so,” Malcolm said. “Goodbye, Val. I think I understand now.”

“Goodbye, Malcolm,” Val said, not sure whether she wanted to laugh or cry. Malcolm didn't wait to see what she would do, and her father slammed the door the minute Malcolm began walking away.

“Valentina Castaladi, I think we have some talking to do,” her father said.

“Don't call me that,” Val said. She hung her jacket up in the hall closet, then flung her schoolbooks down.

“And don't use that tone of voice with me,” Rick said. “Do you care to tell me what's going on?”

“Nothing's going on,” Val said. “Everything's just fine.”

“I've never laid a hand on you,” Rick said. “But you're not too old for me to start.”

“Sure,” Val said. “That's your answer for everything, isn't it, Daddy. When you don't know how else to handle something, there's always brute force.”

“Is it your hormones?” Rick asked. “Your mother sometimes got like this, angry and raw, at her time of month.”

“Leave my mother out of it!” Val cried. “And this has nothing to do with my hormones. I don't even have my period. I lied to you about that.”

“You lied?” Rick said. “Since when have I ever been so cruel to you, you had to lie?”

“There are lots of different ways of being cruel,” Val declared. “You'd be surprised how many of them you know.” She turned her back to her father, and began walking up the stairs.

“Stop, right now!” Rick shouted, and Val was too scared not to. “You come back here and tell me what's going on. Something's been wrong since Monday, and I demand an explanation.”

Val laughed. “You want an explanation?” she said. “Not half as much as I do, Daddy.” The word sounded poisonous to her.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” Rick said. “I don't owe you any explanations.”

“Is that what you told Mama?” Val asked. “When you did whatever you felt like doing.”

“Your mother never asked me for explanations,” Rick said. “She knew I told her only what she needed to know. The rest she was just as happy not to hear. That's how it is with husbands and wives. You'll learn that soon enough.”

“You're crazy,” Val said. “I'm never going to be like Mama. And I'm certainly never going to marry a man like you.”

“Don't make me hit you,” Rick said.

“I don't care if you do,” Val replied. “You can do whatever you want to me, and it won't matter.”

“Go to your room,” Rick said. “I'm calling the doctor. I think you must be very sick.”

“There's nothing wrong with me, Daddy,” Val said. “I'm not Mama. There's nothing eating away at me, except disgust for you.”

“You heard me,” Rick said. “Go to your room.”

Val shook her head. “I don't care what you say to me. I don't care what you do. You can throw me out of this house, and that's fine with me. You don't count any more, Daddy. You stopped counting the moment I found out the truth.”

“What truth?” Rick asked. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know what truth I mean,” Val said. “The truth you've been keeping from me for sixteen years now.” She stared at the face of the man she'd always thought of as her father, and no longer saw anger there, but pain and confusion and hopeless love. “Oh, Daddy!” she cried. “If I'm not a Castaladi, then who am I?”

Chapter 9

“What?”

Val grabbed onto the bannister. “I know I'm adopted,” she said. “I found out, Daddy.”

Rick stood absolutely still, then slowly nodded.

“I have to learn what happened,” Val said. “It's tearing me up, not knowing.”

“We need to talk,” her father said. “Not here, not with you on the staircase. Let's go into the den.”

Val followed him into the den. Of all the dark rooms in the house, it was the darkest, with evergreens blocking all the sun from the windows. Rick automatically turned the overhead light on and, almost as automatically, closed the door. He sat down on the sofa and beckoned Val to join him, but she chose a chair instead.

“I don't know how to handle this,” Rick said. “I honestly thought this would never happen.”

“I have so many questions,” Val said. “Am I your daughter?”

Rick sighed. “Of course you are,” he replied. “I love you, I take care of you, I'm proud of you. But I'm not your father in the way you mean.”

“So I'm not a Castaladi,” Val said. She felt some sense of relief that she wasn't the product of an adulterous affair or even of a surrogate arrangement. “All these years, you've been lying to me.”

“There are a lot of ways we can handle this,” Rick said. “You can ask questions, or I can simply tell you the story, or you can fling accusations at me. You get to pick, but choose wisely. I may never be this open again.”

“I'm angry,” Val said.

Rick laughed. “That's obvious,” he replied. “Tell me, how did you find out?”

“I was looking through Mama's things while you were gone,” Val said. “And I found a letter she wrote me when she was dying. She wrote all about how she couldn't have a baby, and how you brought her one as a gift.”

“Neither one of us wanted you to know,” Rick said. “I guess being sick for so long, knowing she was going to die, it did things to her mind. I wish she'd talked to me about it. I would have told her not to write that letter.”