Gaia's Secret (2 page)

Even thinking his name sent pains through my
stomach.

“There’s no need to be nervous.” Dad broke
the silence.

Startled, I jumped. “I’m not.”

Dad raised a brow. “Yes, you are. You’ve been
twirling that braid of yours since we left. You always play with
your hair when you’re nervous.”

Sure enough, I was clutching my braid like I
was afraid it would fly out the window. I promptly let it go and
dropped my hand in my lap.

He grinned. “You look beautiful. Thanks for
coming with me.”

“Wait, so I actually had a choice?”

His smile fell as he focused back on the
road. “Princess, we won’t be there long. Sonya wanted to see you,
and I couldn’t say no to her this time…especially since she’s been
more of a mother to you than I’ve been a father.” There was pain in
his eyes, a kind of silent regret. I’d never seen him like that
before.

“Dad, just because you’re gone a lot doesn’t
mean you’re not a good father. Besides.” I grinned, trying to nudge
the life back into him. “That’s how we get along so well—you’re
never home long enough to argue with.”

He smiled, but it failed to touch his
eyes.

Something was bothering him. I mean, Dad
could get into these withdrawn moods, but he’d been particularly
quiet lately. As I watched him, I realized his bronze hair was a
mess, and the skin around his pale eyes sagged with fatigue. I
hadn’t noticed it earlier, being so preoccupied with my own nerves.
Dad was never good at hiding things from me because his countenance
would give him away. Which was good, because if there was one thing
I hated, it was being lied to.

I grabbed my iPod out of the glovebox and
filled our silence with Coldplay. It was the only modern band Dad
and I could agree on, because their lyrics weren’t “inappropriate”
and their music didn’t “offend his ears.” He preferred
classical.

We rounded that last wooded bend, and there,
emerging between thick walls of giant pines, stood the Anderson
home.

It didn’t matter how many times I’d seen it.
Their gothic Victorian mansion still inspired awe: dark wood
paneling framed stonework equipped with gables, a stone turret, and
a roofline that matched the rim of the surrounding mountains. It
was the kind of home I’d read about in fairytales. Visiting it
always made me feel like I was part of one.

I didn’t know how the Andersons had such a
beautiful home, considering Cicero and my dad worked together. In
fact, I was pretty sure Dad was Cicero’s boss. Dad always said it
had to do with protecting investments, whatever that meant.

My dad pulled the car around, halting before
the broad stone steps that led to the rustic oak door. When I was
younger, I had dreamed of that door. It had represented complete
and utter happiness. Looking at it now, I suddenly couldn’t believe
I’d allowed Dad to bring me here.

With a deep breath, I climbed out of the car.
The air was crisp and the scents of earth and pine seeped into my
soul, bringing with them the string of memories I had tried so hard
to shred.

You can do this. You won’t be here long.
And it’s not like
he
is going to be here.

Our shoes crunched on their gravel driveway.
Part of me wanted to run back to the car, but I knew it was too
late. I’d already let him drag me this far. We stood before the
door and I stared at the gargoyle head holding an iron ring knocker
in its teeth. It hung lower than I remembered, but no matter where
I stood, those empty eyes followed me. I never did like those eyes.
Dad glanced at me before clasping the ring, letting it clank
against the wood.

Was I imagining it, or did he seem guilty
about something?

Just as he released the ring, the door swung
inward, replaced by a woman I knew well.

Sonya Anderson stood tall, her elegance
unmatched as always. Her lustrous dark hair was pulled back
loosely, dark eyes smiling as though seeing me made everything
right in her world. And before I could say a word, her slender arms
wrapped around me. It was an embrace only she could give—one that
seemed to hug you inside, too.

When she pulled away, her fingertips lingered
at my cheek. “My darling, I’ve missed you.” She searched my eyes.
“Thank you. For coming.”

Sonya was the kind of person who didn’t
really need to speak because her eyes communicated everything.
Right now they were overflowing with love. “Sure. Thanks for having
me.”

“You know you never need an invitation.” She
led us into the foyer, closing the door.

The familiar crimson rug was soft under my
shoes as my nose filled with the scents of spices and wood smoke.
An iron chandelier hung above, the rows filled with squat, ivory
candles that I had always tried to count. Alex had always shot
random numbers at me, to throw me off track. But when he was busy,
I’d counted them. There were exactly twenty-three.

Sonya appraised my disheveled dad with a
frown. “I figured as much.”

Dad grinned. “Nice to see you, too.”

Sonya had always worried about Dad’s health.
When you internalize everything, like my dad does, “everything”
turns your outward appearance into a haphazard mess.

“Well, it’s a good thing Daria knows how to
take care of herself,” Sonya sighed. “There are some clean towels
in the bathroom upstairs. Just in case.”

“Alaric!” It sounded like the entire house
had spoken.

Cicero’s tall, strong build appeared beside
his wife and he smacked my dad hard on the back. “You look
terrible. I mean, even for you.”

Dad chuckled. “Well, one of us needed brains,
so I sacrificed good looks. You’re welcome.”

Cicero shook his head. “I really only stepped
out to see little Daria.” His bright eyes found me, his grin
spreading. “Not so little anymore, are you?” He wrapped a thick arm
around my shoulders. “The world’s newest graduate! Good to see
you.”

I smiled. “You, too.” Cicero always had a way
of making one forget their worries. Probably because nothing ever
seemed to faze him. And that strength was contagious to everyone
around him, me included.

Cicero studied me a moment, then smirked at
my father. “She still doesn’t look a thing like you.”

Dad arched a brow. “You don’t think so?”

“Not in the slightest,” Cicero said. “She’d
never be that beautiful if she did.”

My dad shook his head, chuckling. He’d been
expecting something like that.

“Actually.” Cicero glanced at Sonya. “There
is something I need to discuss with Alaric before we all visit. Do
you mind?” He fastened his rich, brown eyes on me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw
Dad stiffen. That was strange. It wasn’t like them to be so
secretive. At least, not in front of me. “Oh no. That’s fine,” I
said.

Dad held Cicero’s gaze a moment before
shooting me a quick glance. “Be right back.” The men disappeared
down the hall.

When I looked back at Sonya I caught traces
of worry on her face. But the moment she noticed me watching her,
that worry quickly transformed into a smile.

“It has been so long.”

“Yeah, it’s been about three years, I
think.”

Who was I kidding? She knew exactly when I
stopped coming. And why.

“It has. You’ve turned into a beautiful young
woman, and I’ve missed all of it.”

The regret in her voice, the love in her
eyes—it was making me feel bad. Sonya hadn’t done anything wrong.
And besides, I could’ve used her advice. I’d always been able to
confide in her in ways that were impossible with Dad. She
understood emotions. “I’m sorry.” I sighed. “I’ve missed it here.
Missed you. But, you know, with Dad’s schedule it’s…hard to get
away.”

Those dark eyes saw and understood everything
I didn’t say. “Yes, I know.”

“Mrs. Anderson,” spoke a soft voice that
lifted my spirit.

Clara, their maid, appeared before us, just
as slight and as happy and gentle as I remembered. Her face
brightened at the sight of me. “If it isn’t Miss Daria.”

I beamed at her. It didn’t matter how old I
was, Clara always made me feel like a little kid again. She was the
kind of woman that would let you stay up way past your bedtime, and
then she’d slip candy under your bedroom door when you were
sleeping. I wasn’t sure if Sonya knew that, but I certainly never
tried to find out.

“Clara, what it is?” Sonya asked.

Clara shifted. “The gentlemen would like to
speak with you.”

Sonya held Clara’s gaze a moment, and then
turned to me. “I hate leaving you after finally getting you to
myself, but will you excuse me a moment?”

What was going on with everyone? “Sure.”

“I’ll be right back.” She patted my cheek and
disappeared down the hall. Clara lingered, her eyes bright and
twinkling as she stared at me. But instead of saying a word, her
expression turned distant and she left.

Now I was alone, feeling completely out of
place. It was hard enough just being here. Having everyone leave me
to myself made it impossible to stay distracted.

I wandered into the sitting room, where a
blazing fire burned in the fireplace. An ivory chaise lounge sat
next to it, accented by a mahogany side table standing on flared
legs. And there it was, sitting on top of the table. That glass
bowl. It was half filled with water, and floating right on top was
a beautiful vivid orange flower. It always reminded me of a flame—a
flame that even water couldn’t extinguish. Sonya always had a fresh
one in the bowl, but I had never been able to figure out where they
came from.

I stared through the window at the yard
beyond. Alex and I had lived in that yard. It had been the home of
wrestling matches, stick fights, and snow forts. And of sprawling
out on the grass in exhaustion, gazing at the clouds, dreaming of
our futures.

A future he had and I didn’t.

My heart sank. I couldn’t stop the unwanted
memories that replayed in my mind.

A transparent shape floated above the yard.
It took me a second to realize that it was a reflection in the
glass. There was something behind me. Someone. I turned my head
toward its source and my breath caught in my chest. It was
Alex.

A
lex stood in the
entryway, much taller than I remembered. His fitted, dark jeans
revealed a lean, muscular build and the sleeves of his white
button-up shirt were rolled to his elbows, exposing strong
forearms. Not the scrawny boy I’d known all my life. He wore his
hair longer, too. Dark strands now framed his face, sharpening the
angles, and the green in his eyes was much greener. And more
penetrating.

Three years had turned him into a man. I
should’ve expected it, but all I could do was stare while the walls
started closing in around me.

His face was unreadable and, even though his
sharp gaze never left mine, I felt like he was taking in all of me.
Observing me from top to bottom, and it made me even more
uncomfortable than I already was.

“Daria.” He spoke my name softly, lingering
on each syllable.

I was so shocked by the depth and richness in
this new man-voice that I couldn’t speak. My words were trapped
somewhere between surprise and indignation.

He took a step forward. “
You
at a loss
for words? This is unusual.”

I suddenly realized I’d been ogling at him.
Heat flooded my face as I forced myself to speak. “Maybe I’ve
changed.”

A knowing grin twitched at his lips as he
raised a dark brow.

Really, Daria? You prepared to rip him to
shreds if you ever saw him again and the first thing you say is
“maybe I’ve changed’? You haven’t even left Fresno!

He continued studying me, like he was waiting
for me to say something—anything. And the longer we stood with a
thick wall of silence between us, the more awkward I felt. It
didn’t help that I was having trouble breathing, and my hand was
aching from clenching the arm of the sofa. I had to get out of
there. That instant.

“Good.” Sonya beamed at the pair of us. “You
found each other.”

My dad and Cicero were right on her heels. I
caught my dad’s gaze, and then he seemed a little too interested in
finding a seat for himself. I should’ve known better. He knew all
along Alex would be here, and he continued to avoid my murderous
stare as he fidgeted with the buttons on his shirt.

Clara entered with a tray of tiramisu and I
couldn’t have been happier for the distraction. She passed around
plates filled with layers of cream, chocolates, and cookies that
were compressed into a strong tower, topped with raspberries and
mint leaves. It was too beautiful to eat. Almost.

Just as I lifted my spoon to carve into my
tiramisu, Sonya spoke.

“What are you going to do with yourself
now?”

At first I didn’t realize she was addressing
me, but when no one else answered, I glanced up. Everyone was
looking at me.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

Sonya smiled. “Now that you are all done with
your studies. I hear you just took your graduation examination a
few weeks ago.”

Dad’s face flushed as he watched me. He was
probably worried about my answer, and with Alex—the successful,
impressive world traveler—I was worried about my answer, too.
Worried about revealing how uneventful my life had been, and about
how much I hadn’t changed.

“I’m not sure. I really like History.
Medieval European History. I’m hoping Dad will let me start at a
junior college in the fall, and then I’d like to study abroad.”

Sonya’s smile fell. Cicero and Alex stared at
me with blank expressions, and the red in my dad’s face started
spreading down his neck. What was wrong with my college plans? They
weren’t any different than Alex’s, so why was everyone acting like
I’d just confessed to a murder?