L.L. Foster - The Kindred

Gaby looked just like her mother.

Unable to contain himself, Fabian put his hands over his mouth and squealed like a schoolboy. It was too perfect, too delicious for words.

Putting his head back, he hugged himself to contain his mirth.

The only true nemesis he’d ever encountered, the only person who even came close to matching his intelligence, cunning, and courage, was an exact replica of the whore he’d used and left twenty some years ago. The timing coincided with Gaby’s age.

And given those eyes of hers, light blue and piercing, well, it was plain to him.

He was her father.

It made sense. Gaby was like him in so many ways; among inferior society, they had preeminent significance. They each stood out, in every way.

There would be some conflicts. Two great minds were bound to clash on occasion. But he could work that out with her. He was Gaby’s senior near about thirty years. He had more experience.

She was wise enough to bow to him, to heed his excellence.

Fabian couldn’t wait to tell her. Thinking of that auspicious moment, he laughed again, and even he knew it sounded maniacal.

And why not? He’d just found a way to outdo his own wicked taboo of eating a child: he would share the meal with his daughter.

And if Gaby proved squeamish, if she disappointed him by being too weak, too narrow-minded to join him, well then, he would do what was necessary.

He would shatter every social doctrine of morality—by dining on his own flesh and blood.

Bliss finished mashing potatoes just as Gaby got to the top of the steps. So industrious in preparing her meal, she hadn’t yet heard them. She wore an apron over her jeans and had tied up her brown hair.

Pork chops sizzled on the stove, and green beans boiled in a pot. Warm steam and the aroma of food filled the kitchen. Gaby sniffed the air, and heard Dacia’s stomach rumble.

No reason to keep the girls waiting. They had to be hungry. And tired. And still very unnerved by the changes about to take place.

After Gaby dropped their paltry belongings in the foyer of the apartment building, Mali hung back. All timid and uncertain, she stayed behind Gaby’s legs. At times Gaby felt the little girl’s head on her butt. No matter how she tried to move, Malinal managed to stay tucked back behind her.

Dacia, on the other hand, came to stand at her side, proud but defensive. She awaited rejection, Gaby knew, and the young girl’s stoicism shredded her heart.

Putting an arm around Dacia and letting Mali nestle in as much as she wanted, Gaby announced them by saying, “Hey, Martha Stewart. Something sure smells good.”

Bliss whirled around with a wide smile, saw the two girls, and went blank-faced. But not for long.

Bliss was no dummy. Whatever misuse had plagued her at home, she kept it to herself and didn’t let it taint her open, giving nature.

Until meeting Gaby, Bliss had long lived on the streets, and because of that, she had innate recognition of one of her own. Add to that her intuitive nature, and she was the perfect person to relate to the girls.

God knew that regardless of Bliss’s past—or maybe because of it—she far exceeded Gaby in mothering qualifications.

Drying her hands on the apron, Bliss came forward with a slight smile. “Good grief, Gaby. When you said three, I thought you meant three big eaters, not small fries.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Gaby told her. “I don’t think these two have had a real meal for a while. They might take even our share.”

Both girls stood there frozen in place. Gaby couldn’t even detect their breathing. But then, Bliss did look something of an angel, with her soft, golden aura floating around her.

Bliss reached out a hand to Dacia. “Hi. I’m Bliss. And you are?”

“Dacia.” She took her hand and quickly released it. “My sister, Malinal, is hiding behind Gaby.”

“Am not,” Malinal said, and stuck her head out just long enough to get a gander of Bliss. She tucked away again.

Bliss grinned in very real delight. “I’m a new cook, so I hope I didn’t muck up anything. Grab a seat and I’ll pour us all some milk. We can get acquainted over the meal.”

“I’m keeping them,” Gaby said.

“Well, of course you are,” Bliss replied, as if it was expected. “You couldn’t do anything else.”

Gaby blinked at her, then scowled. She was not a predictable person. Even Ann had said so.

And she didn’t drag in strays. Except for Bliss, but that was different. Bliss was mostly grown and mostly able to care for herself.

Kids . . . well, kids would need a lot of care. As Bliss said, she couldn’t leave them behind, but it stymied her, trying to think of all that would have to be done on a day-to-day basis.

And Luther . . . What would he say? Would he—

“I’ll help however I can.” Bliss set the food on the table. “And I know Mort will, too. We’ll have to figure out legal stuff. I mean, I know I had to dodge social workers to keep from getting sent back home.”

“Or stuck in foster care.” Gaby nearly shuddered. She looked at Dacia and felt Mali squeezing in behind her, and she knew she wouldn’t let that happen. Good foster homes existed, she was sure of that, but she wouldn’t take the chance. The little girls deserved more.

They deserved . . . love.

Fuck. What did she know about love?

Dacia looked from Bliss to Gaby. “We have no family searching for us. And I will not be separated from Malinal.”

“No, you won’t,” Gaby assured her. “Come on, let’s grab a seat.”

It was difficult for her to walk with Mali on her butt, but she managed to pry the little girl off and into a chair. Dacia scooted her chair closer to her sister’s. Beneath the table, they held hands.

A lump of emotion, big as a melon, lodged in Gaby’s throat.

She sought words to put them at ease. “So, ladies, Bliss is a good friend and a really terrific human being. And best of all, she’s been where you’re at, so she gets it, you know?”

Bliss nodded while loading up the plates. “I really do.”

Dacia frowned. “Gets . . . what?”‘

Bliss answered. “What it’s like to wonder where you’ll sleep that night, if you’ll be safe from the drug dealers and the gangs and anyone else who preys on others. I know what it’s like to share my bedding with the rats and fleas and other creepy-crawlies. I’ve stolen food, and when I got lucky, clothes, too.” She finally took her own seat. “I wasn’t as young as you, but I’ve been where you’re at. I know how it is.”

The girls sat there, only half listening as they eyed the feast before them.

Gaby rolled her eyes. “Dig in already.” But it wasn’t until she and Bliss started to eat that the girls followed suit.

Amazed, Gaby watched their food disappear and accepted that they were bottomless pits. Feeding those two would be no small endeavor. She looked at Bliss, and saw that her friend was also amazed. She smiled as she refilled the plates.

Might as well get it all out in the open, Gaby thought. “I want them to sleep here, with you, for a little while. That’s not a problem, is it?”

With a mouthful, Bliss shook her head. After she swallowed, she said, “I’ll take the couch and they can have my room, that way they can sleep together in the bed.”

Slowly, Dacia set aside her fork. For a long time she just stared at her plate. Finally, her big dark eyes came up to meet Bliss’s. “We do not want to take your bed.”

Bliss shrugged a rounded shoulder. “I don’t mind. You wouldn’t both fit on the couch.”

Dacia’s breathing deepened—and Gaby understood her fear. “Dacia, listen to me. You said you trusted me, right?”