Chapter 2
I don't remember her at all, besides the few memories Dad was able to plant into my head. There were no pictures of her around our house, because he said all I needed to do was put in brown contacts and look in the mirror. There is only one picture he ever gave me, of the three of us, and I have it with me always. Even with her head bent and features darkened, she still looks like the woman in front of me.
Kate’s expression was one shock and amazement, which she shook off with a small shake of her head. Mom’s dead, Kate. She died a long time ago. She looked up into the concerned eyes of the woman who resembled her mother. “Yes. I’m Kate Craig.”
The woman smiled gently and offered her hand. “I don’t know how much they told you, but I’m Cindy Cross.” She motioned to the man and child beside her as Kate took her hand and stood up. “This is my husband John and our son, Wesley.”
Kate smiled at them as Cindy put her arm around Kate’s shoulder. “Welcome to Wisconsin.” She guided Kate to the baggage claim with John and Wesley trailing behind. As much as she tried to ignore it, there was a familiar ness to Cindy’s features and voice. You’re just looking for her. Cindy isn’t like Mom at all.
There was an awkward silence as they waited for her luggage to come down the carousel, but no questions seemed appropriate. Have you always been Cindy Cross? Were you ever Sydney Craig? Finally Wesley walked closer to Kate and looked at her curiously. She turned her attention to him and smiled thinly, hoping he wouldn’t just stare.
He obviously took that as an invitation to talk. “How old are you?” he asked shyly, unsure if she would answer him.
Kate’s smile became genuine; she always loved little kids, and estimated Wesley to be nine or ten. “I’m fifteen. What about you?”
Shyness stripped away, a set of dimples appeared with his smile. “I’m nine, and I’ll be ten on February 24th. When’s your birthday?” As he spoke he moved closer and Kate could see he inherited his mother’s eyes.
Thinking back to her birthday over two months ago, she was reminded of a happier time. It caused her eyes to shine as she replied, “October 1st.” She pulled the necklace out from underneath her shirt. “I got this from my friend.” Wesley took a step closer to examine the charm. A light shone in his eyes.
“You play hockey?”
She could perceive the longing in his voice and answered quietly, “No, I ice-skate. Do you play?”
Looking down at his hands and sighing, he spoke sadly, “No, Dad won’t let me because he thinks it’s too dangerous.”
The carousel started moving then, causing both Wesley and Kate to jump. Cindy and John had been listening with hopeful thoughts, happy that Kate was perceptive to Wesley’s adorable charm.
John found a break in the crowd where he and Kate could stand to find her two large overstuffed suitcases. All of her belongings were crammed in there. Not all. Not Dad’s skates, not his hockey stick, not his favorite tree. Not our grandfather clock that we took pride in. It’s all gone now.
As John strained to carry both, Wesley took her slender hand and navigated her through Milwaukee International. He’s been here a lot. Cindy pulled up the rear, and took one of the suitcases when John stumbled for the third time.
Avoiding the blowing snow and weaving through parking structures, she was pulled to an old gray Astrovan in which Wesley climbed into and buckled himself. Kate followed reluctantly when Cindy told her not to worry about the suitcases. As they thumped into the back, Kate went into a sort of trance. Wesley’s questions had distracted her for a few moments, but now she was back to comparing Cindy to her mother. Her faint memories that she wasn’t even sure were real and the picture in which her mother’s face was slightly obscured was not enough to convince Kate, but enough to create a spark of suspicion.
The suspicions were circling around in her mind for nearly an hour, until Cindy jolted her back to reality. “That school right there is the school you’ll be attending. Home of the Mighty Goslings.” Cindy chuckled as she thought of the mascot. “Never thought ducklings could be mighty, but there you go.” Her lips curled up as images of ducklings in armor stampeded across her mind. I’m going to be a duckling. Chris will get a kick out of that. Cindy pointed at a small building to the side of the road. “That’s Mullins, the best ice cream stand in Wisconsin. We go there at least once a week. They’re famous for their peppermint ice cream.” A dead looking street came into view. Shops lined the sidewalks, but there were no shoppers milling about. “That’s Main Street. You can tell how many people live here just by looking down that street.” Even with stretching her neck, she could only count five or so people. This place has fifteen people. I’m going to die from isolation.
John took up the tour guide as well, pointing to an old restaurant that badly needed a paint job. “That’s the Ponderosa. We don’t go there often, but Wesley likes it, so we go sometimes.” Cindy stuck out her tongue as a way of rating it. “Cindy doesn’t like it.”
A wider smile replaced the thin one on her face. “I guess not.” Craning her neck to see farther along the street, she could see a Shop-Ko and a Walgreens. Finally, something familiar. The rest of the town seemed small and quaint in the softly falling snow. Snow was a rarity in San Antonio; there was usually ice and sleet, and then floods, but not much snow. Flooding at least three times a year.
Pressing her hand against the frigid window, Kate marveled in the flurry of white. Snow fascinated her, although she preferred to be inside while it fell. Being an ice skater she was used to the cold, but still liked the feel of a cozy fire and a warm quilt.
The house they stopped at was large and pretty and painted white by the snow, but Kate couldn’t help comparing it to her beautiful home in Texas. She and Michael had worked hard to keep it in good condition, and it hurt leaving it behind. Once inside the garage, Kate unbuckled herself slowly, dreading the moment she would be inside her new room. It had been surreal up until then, but seeing a room committed to her would cement her into this messed up world without parents.
Wesley couldn’t sense her reluctance, and he had taken to her immensely, so he nearly pushed her out of the van and grabbed her hand excitedly. She was led through a large kitchen, up stairs, and into her room. Not mine. John and Cindy followed with her bags, and they set them by the door slowly. Surveying the room with an open mind, Kate liked what she saw. The walls were painted a light green with white trim around the door and windows. It was spacious, with enough room for a queen size bed and dresser complete with mirror.
John shooed Wesley out by saying, “Let’s let Kate get settled.” Turning, he added, “Call us if you need anything.” All three left her alone, and she turned to the two over large suitcases. Clothes were easy, but she was dreading the personal things that would make her cry. Unfortunately, she’d packed the fragile items between clothing so they wouldn’t break, so as she placed her jeans in a drawer, she saw the antique picture frame holding a picture of her and her father at a figure skating competition, her holding the gold medal and him beaming down at her. No more skating for me, Dad. There isn’t a skating rink in Watertown, Wisconsin.
Placing the frame on the dresser, she ran her finger over the glass delicately. The frame had been her mother’s, a Christmas gift from her father, and he had presented it to her two Christmases ago. She cherished it, polishing the silver frequently and lovingly. Once she finished one of the suitcases, she let it fall to the floor with a loud thunk, causing Wesley to come and investigate.
“Need any help?” He watched as she struggled to get the other bag onto the bed, and pushed it from underneath. Smiling as she unlocked it, she nodded to the bed for him to sit.
“I don’t need help, but I could use someone to talk to.” The lock tossed aside, she unzipped the hanging bag and proceeded to remove clothing and place it in the closet. Wesley took things out, carefully avoiding the area that contained her more unmentionable items, and placed them neatly on the bed. Curiosity sparked, he held up a man’s battered watch and asked, “Kate, why do you have a watch that doesn’t work?”
She moved to the bed and took the watch between her palms. It was another one of those items that would spark the tears, but she felt the desire to tell the story to someone who didn’t know her family. “My grandfather died when my dad was a little boy, but before he did, he gave him this watch. It was his, but he wanted my dad to have it. He told my dad that he could set his heart by this watch. It stopped on the day my dad met my mom, which is also my birthday. Dad wore it every day. I guess it was a way he could keep Mom and Grandpa close to him.” Kate rubbed it gently and closed her eyes. “I made sure I kept it, because now I can keep them with me too.”
Wesley’s eyes had become large as she told the story, and now touched Kate’s arm softly. “Do you miss them a lot?”
Nodding her head sadly, she held back the tears. “Although I don’t remember her, I still get these moments when I think she’s watching me.” She remembered the moment of shock at the airport. “Sometimes the feeling is so strong I expect to turn around and see her.” Cindy’s face flashed across her mind, and Kate did everything she could to deny her instinct.
Listening behind the half open door, Cindy felt the faint traces of a memory. In her mind she scrambled towards it, but the more she tried the farther it went. It broke her heart, hearing Kate’s sad tale, but it also sparked something inside her. It was gone in an instant, and she knew it was nothing. John came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. She leaned into his embrace and he whispered softly, “Are you alright? Kate’s been through a lot, but some of the kids we’ve had have been through worse.”
Cindy nodded silently, and continued listening to Kate unpacking. They had moved on from the watch story and now Wesley was asking about her ice-skating. They backed away and went downstairs to cook dinner.
***
Dinner was a little awkward, but Wesley chatted up Kate, telling her all about the baseball team he was going to be on during the spring and what position he played. Cindy viewed the scene with amusement, because her son was usually shy around a new foster kid. Kate however, was drinking in every second because she had always wanted a little sibling. Wesley fascinated her, and with every question she asked he liked her more. Usually the kids that lived with them were sullen and moody, not talkative like Kate.
The only one not completely enjoying the meal was John. He had been the one that convinced Cindy to become foster parents, being a foster child himself. Wesley was a little over two when they made the decision, so he had grown up with different brothers and sisters. He had learned quickly not to become too attached because they always left, and John was concerned to see that his son was falling in love with Kate Craig.
Since she was shooed off when she attempted to clean up, Kate retired to bed when Wesley did, which was right after dinner. The school said she didn’t have to start school until the second semester started, which was after winter break, so she had a few weeks before facing her peers. Being the avid reader that she was, Kate fully intended to find a library and check half the place out. With her limited packing space, she had only been able to squeeze her favorites in, so she wanted to find that comfort zone with the ones she’d had to abandon. At least I got To Kill A Mockingbird. I would die without Scout, Jem, and Atticus.
Sneaking the cell phone out of her backpack, she called Chris, needing to hear a familiar voice. She held her breath as the phone rang three times, and sighed in relief when he finally picked up.
“Hello?”
“Chris? It’s Kate.”
“Hey Kate. Keeping that open mind we talked about?” he asked seriously. She had to smile.
“Yea, it’s not so bad. There’s a little boy here that’s really cute. I feel really welcome, but I’m incredibly homesick. It was hard unpacking my life here, but I did it without crying.”
She heard him sigh. “You don’t have to be so strong.”
“I know, but I was able to do it. This is going to sound really strange, but I need you to hear me out, ok?” He gave his consent and she continued. “When I first saw my foster mom, I could have sworn she was my mom. They look exactly alike Chris, it scares me. I thought it was just my overactive imagination, but I looked again before I went to bed and the resemblance still stunned me.”
“Kate, this is going to sound incredibly mean, but your mom is dead. You need to stop comparing them, because I know you’ll end up saying something to her, and then she’ll think you’re insane and send you to someone else. And from what I’ve heard, the place can’t be half bad.”
The tears she held back since that afternoon came sliding down, and she sniffed with a sad smile. “You’re right, as always. Hey, I’ve got to go, but I’ll call you tomorrow, ok? Say hi to all my friends, please?” I hope I find friends here.
Hearing him smile through the phone, he said goodbye. “Miss you.”
“Miss you too,” she whispered as she pressed the end button. She could hear Cindy and John coming up the stairs, and for some reason didn’t want them to know she needed to hear Chris’s voice.
Her pajamas were in the bottom drawer, and she bent down to get her comfort jammies, flannel pants and a hockey t-shirt of her dad’s. Once she changed and climbed into the large bed, I had a twin at home, she pulled at the covers restlessly. The hours passed slowly, and sleep was nowhere near her. Where the hell is that sandman? Finally she was able to drift into a light doze, and woke up screaming.
Mom, shot down by a sniper. Dad, poisoned by arsenic. Grandpa, stabbed by a phantom. Blood, everywhere…oh god. Is that my blood? “Emily!” they scream. “Emily, run! Save yourself!” they plead with me. My feet are frozen, because I am not Emily. I am Kate, but they don’t know that.
Cindy and John heard her desperate screaming, and ran into her room. Kate was sitting up; breathing hard and tears were streaming down her face. Cindy wrapped her arms around her shaking body and held her close, murmuring soft whispers. Kate quieted, still crying and holding on to Cindy for dear life. She began to sing a soft lullaby, and Kate was soothed back into sleep, still in Cindy’s arms.
Slumber my darling, thy mother is near
Guarding thy dreams from all terror and fear.
Sunlight has past and the twilight has gone,
Slumber my darling, the night's coming on.
Wesley ran into Kate’s room, his sleep disrupted by her cries. He saw John standing back, watching Cindy sing softly to Kate. “Dad? Is Kate ok?”
John turned to look at him with sad eyes and responded, “No, she’s not Wes. But she will be, we’ll make her ok. Now go back to bed.” He guided his son out of the room and tucked him back into bed.
I walk into a room and I see my mother, rocking a baby to sleep. She sings a song and I am instantly comforted, even though it is not me she is rocking. “Emily,” she coos and then sings, “Slumber my darling, the birds are at rest, Wandering dews by the flowers are caressed, Slumber my darling, I'll wrap thee up warm, And pray that the angels shield thee from harm.” The baby is sleeping, warm and safe, and I find myself drowsy. I lean over my mother, and she looks at me with wide eyes. “Emily?” No, I shake my head. I am Kate. She caresses my cheek and whispers, “My darling.”