Lisa Jackson - Born To Die

“Why would I do that?”

“To be friendly,” Maribelle said, lifting her shoulders innocently. “It’s the holidays.”

“We’re divorced, Mom. Have been for three years.”

“Oh, darling, don’t you think I know that, but… sometimes a couple can get past whatever it was that kept them apart.” Maribelle’s smile disappeared slowly, and she set her fork on her plate. “I always liked him, you know.”

Oh, yeah. She knew. “It didn’t work out.”

“You didn’t give it enough time. Three years? My God, that’s barely a sneeze in life. I was married to your father for over thirty-five years! And trust me, not all of those times were rosy.”

Kacey did believe her.

“You should just contact him.”

“Not gonna happen, Mom,” Kacey said and pushed her plate aside.

Her mother let out a long-suffering sigh as the waitress came with offers of dessert and coffee.

“I’ll try the pumpkin cheesecake with the caramel sauce and decaf, Loni,” Maribelle said familiarly.

Kacey said, “Just regular coffee with cream.”

“You have to try some dessert. It comes with the meal, no extra expense, and it’s. . out. Of. This. World!” her mother insisted, then turned to the waitress again. “By any chance did Mitch make crème brûlée today?”

“Espresso-flavored,” the waitress said with a knowing smile.

Maribelle’s eyes brightened. “My favorite, but I think I really should sample his cheesecake.” To Kacey she added, “Order the brûlée and we’ll swap bites. I’m not kidding you when I say it’s scrumptious. If I weren’t so stuck on tradition with the pumpkin, I’d order it myself.”

“I don’t think—”

“Oh, come on, Acacia! It’s Thanksgiving, for God’s sake!” To Loni, she said, “Please bring us a bit of each. It’s a holiday, and we’re not together that often.” She placed a thin, cool hand over Kacey’s, as if sharing dessert would actually be a bonding experience.

“Okay,” Kacey said, surrending.

“You won’t be disappointed.” Her mother actually patted her hand. What was this? Maribelle wasn’t known for any public displays of affection.

The waitress disappeared through double doors leading to the kitchen.

“I wish you’d give Jeffrey another chance.” Maribelle was nothing if not single-minded.

“I’m not interested, and I think he’s engaged.”

“Seriously?” Maribelle’s dark eyebrows shot skyward.

“I don’t know it for certain, and really, I don’t care, but one of my friends in Seattle, Joanna. . You met her, I think, once or twice. Anyway, she called the other day and mentioned that Jeffrey was going to get married next year sometime.”

“Well. .” She played with the napkin in her lap, and the shadows from the candle on the table played against her face, aging her a bit. “It’s just that I. . I would so love a grandchild.”

“Really?” Kacey was surprised. She had been an only child and had been told often enough that she hadn’t been planned. Though she was certain her mother loved her, Maribelle had never been one to fawn over children or even show an interest in becoming a grandmother. Until today.

“Are you seeing anyone?” her mother asked hopefully.

Kacey’s wayward mind flitted to Trace O’Halleran before she brought herself back to reality. “No.”

“No one at the hospital? Another doctor?”

“I said—”

“What about online dating? I see all sorts of sites advertised on the television, and Judy Keller’s daughter found the love of her life on some Christian matchmaking Web site. I’m sure there’s one for professionals. In fact, I checked.”

“I really don’t have time.”

“Of course you do. It’s a matter of priorities, that’s all! And if I were you, I wouldn’t give up on Jeffrey so soon. He’s a well-respected surgeon, and he’s even written a book and has speaking engagements all over the country.”

“And you know this… how?” Kacey asked.

Maribelle didn’t bat an eye. “I have the Internet, darling. It’s a wonderful tool. And nowhere on Jeffrey’s Web site did he mention a fiancée.”

The desserts and coffee appeared at that second, but Kacey caught the look of disappointment in her mother’s eyes. Maribelle had loved Jeffrey Lambert from the second she’d met him. “A heart surgeon,” she’d whispered to her daughter, her eyes alight. “And handsome, too.”

Never mind that Kacey herself would soon be a doctor in her own right. Or that Jeffrey had an ego that would rival Napoleon’s.

The bottom line with her mother was Jeffrey Lambert, MD, was one helluva catch and her daughter had let him slip away. Now, as she bit into the crème brûlée, Kacey wondered what her mother would think if she admitted that the man she found most interesting these days was a hardscrabble rancher with a seven-year-old son.

Finally, as her mother was in her own private heaven, sampling her cheesecake and moaning softly in ecstasy, Kacey brought up the subject that had been weighing on her mind. “So, Mom, did Aunt Helen have any kids?”

“Of course not.” Maribelle glanced up quickly. “She and Bill couldn’t. You know that.”

“What about on Dad’s side?”

“No. Neither of his brothers married. Again, you already know this.”

“Maybe not married… but had some kids they didn’t talk about? Or maybe know about?”

Her mother was shaking her head as if the idea were impossible. “As far as I recall, they never dated much.”

“So, you’re saying I don’t have any… cousins that I was never told about? Since you and Helen have been estranged, I thought—”

“What? That I lied? Why would I do that?” Her mother looked perturbed again and straightened her napkin. “I’m telling you, no cousins. You know that. I don’t understand why you’re asking now.”

“Okay, okay. I know it sounds a little crazy, but remember that patient I was telling you about, the one who fell while jogging and ended up in the ER?”

“Yes. At Boxer Bluff.” So Maribelle had been listening.

“Unfortunately, she didn’t make it. Her name was Jocelyn Wallis, and she was a schoolteacher, who, as it turns out, was born around here. And she looked a lot like me. Enough to freak out some of the nurses I work with.”

Her mother grew deathly quiet for the first time since they’d sat down as Kacey explained the details. She refolded the napkin twice before Kacey launched into her resemblance to Shelly Bonaventure, another woman who looked like her and was born in the area.

“I saw that she’d died. Not much of an actress, if you ask me,” Maribelle said. “And I suppose she might look a little like you, but so what?” She was shaking her head. “What are you suggesting? That those women were fathered by your uncles?” She rolled her eyes. “And then what? Adopted to other families and we never heard about it?”

“Or maybe Dad, before he met you. .”

“Oh, Acacia, stop it! Right now! If Stanley had any other children, don’t you think I’d know about it?” she demanded.

“Maybe he didn’t know.”

“We’re talking about your father! Remember him?” She shot her daughter a withering glance. “He would be mortified if he were here, Acacia! As it is, he’s probably rolling over in his damned grave!” She shuddered theatrically. “Your friends have overactive imaginations, or some need to put some drama into their lives.” Leaning back in her chair, she glared at Kacey and shook her head. “Come on, Acacia! How many long-lost cousins do you think the family’s hidden from you?”

“Maybe none. I don’t know. I’m just saying it’s strange.”

“So many things in life are ‘strange’ or ‘odd’ or ‘coincidence. ’ ” After making air quotes, she waved her hand as if to dismiss the entire topic, as if it were inconsequential claptrap. But her cavalier attitude didn’t quite match the sliver of concern that Kacey noticed in her mother’s eyes as she added, “You know, people see resemblances with each other all the time. People make entire careers out of being celebrity lookalikes. Now, that’s the end of this inane conversation!” She turned her attention back to her pumpkin cheesecake. “Mitch really outdid himself with this. Try a little, and don’t forget to get a bit of the whipped cream.”