Nicole Young: Kill Me If You Can

“It’s really nice.” I wanted to get straight to the point and ask her to recite everything she knew about my mother. But the way she looked at me with that intent stare, seeming to check out every line on my face, made me nervous. It was better to keep the conversation impersonal until I knew what was running through her mind.

She set her tea on the table and leaned forward. “You’re probably wondering about me. Who I am, how we’re related, why I wanted to meet you.”

I grinned. “All of the above.”

“I’ll give you the short, sweet version.” She stared into the fire. “I got to know you and your mother quite well when you were young. You visited with me almost every weekend.” Her eyes met mine. “Perhaps as you spend more time on the peninsula, you’ll begin to remember.”

I concentrated on her features, hoping to stir some vague memories. Nothing rose to the surface. “Maybe.” I reached for the note that was still in my pocket and dropped it on the glass tabletop. “How did you know I’d be arriving in town?”

“Ethyl Merton kept me posted. She and I go way back. She said she’d promised not to tell anyone of your arrival, but she remembered how special you were to me and couldn’t resist passing on the good news. I hope you’re not angry with her.”

I considered whether or not to forgive Ethyl’s misconduct while Candice sipped her tea.

She looked over the edge of her cup. “I’m surprised you’d drive through a snowstorm to get here.”

I shrugged. “My grace period was up at the last house and I had nothing better to do, I guess.” Nothing better to do except meet Brad for lunch at Sam’s Coney and plan our downhill ski trip with the gang after church on Sunday. But why put off the inevitable? I simply said goodbye and meant it instead of dragging out some long, agonizing relationship that was doomed to failure before it even began.

“You do have Russo blood in you, I see. Anyone else would have waited until spring,” Candice said.

I’d decided that facing a blizzard was definitely less scary than looking Brad in the eye and telling him why I couldn’t hang around Rawlings anymore.

I waved a hand. “Oh, I’m not so brave, really.”

Her brow lifted. “I’m not talking bravery. I’m talking stupidity.”

My jaw dropped and my eyes fluttered. Had she just insulted my entire family?

“Don’t look so offended. The Russos are known for having their priorities out of kilter. I only hope you won’t make the same mistakes.”

Too late, I wanted to tell her. “Thanks for the warning,” I said.

Aunt Candice leaned back and crossed one tall leather boot over the other. “You’ve been away a long time, Tish. I can only assume you’re back because your grandparents kept you in the dark all these years.” She folded her hands in her lap. “Art and Eva did a commendable job snatching you away from the peninsula. I’m sure I’m not the only one astounded that you’ve returned. That’s why I had to see you before they got to you.”

“Before who got to me?”

Her eyes narrowed. “The Russos, of course.”

The clock on the mantel marked a new hour. Its musical chimes blared like gongs in the silence. I took a sip of tea. It had cooled to lukewarm. The bitter brew clung to my taste buds.

“Would you care for some honey?” Candice asked.

“Thank you.” I stirred some into my cup. I had a feeling I’d need more than a spoonful of the sweet stuff to make whatever Candice had to say palatable.

“How much did your grandmother tell you about the Russo family?” Candice asked.

She sat forward and sipped her tea, watching me over the rim.

“Nothing. I never even heard the name until this morning.”

“She probably thought she was protecting you. I’m sure she couldn’t have guessed you’d eventually move back to the area.”

“Protecting me from what?” Candice made it sound like my dad’s side of the family was out to get me.

She sighed and pursed her lips. “This may be a beautiful area, but every garden has its snakes. I can’t tell you what to do, Tish, I can only urge you not to get mixed up with the Russos. And believe me, as soon as they find out you’re back, they’ll try luring you into their viper’s nest. They’re not the only ones to watch out for, of course. They’re just the most obvious.”

I hadn’t come five hundred miles to stick my head in the sand. If finding out about my mother meant going nose to nose with the Russo clan, then so be it. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m not passing up the opportunity to get to know the family that was denied me all these years.”

Candice’s eyes flared. “Art and Eva Amble did what was necessary to ensure your survival. If Bernard Russo had known your whereabouts, your life would have been a few chapters short of what it is today.”

I shook my head in confusion. “What are you saying?”

“Just that I would hate to see history repeat itself. Your mother was a beautiful woman with a bright future until the Russos got a hold of her. Bernard virtually lured her to her death.”

“I don’t understand. Is he somehow responsible for my mother killing herself?”

“Is that what Eva told you—that it was suicide? Bernard couldn’t be more guilty of her death if he drove her car into the quarry himself.”

“What did he do that was so terrible? Why would she kill herself because of him?”

“You’ll have to trust me and keep your distance. You have a bright future, Tish. Don’t throw it away on people who aren’t worth the dirt they walk on.”

Candice’s intentions were probably kindhearted, but being told that half my genes were lower than dirt didn’t endear her to me. I set my teacup down with a clumsy clink. “Thank you for inviting me over today.” I stood. “I appreciate the advice. I really do. I just can’t promise I’ll follow it.”

Candice sucked in a deep breath. “Just be careful, Tish. That’s all I can say.”

She rose and brought my coat to me.

“Thanks for the tea.” I bundled up and stepped into the cold, sorry to leave the cozy haven for the harsh winter winds.

I drove home. The scenery blurred over with thoughts of feuding relatives and the image of my mom’s Ford merging with bedrock.

Afternoon was already fading to evening by the time I got back to the cabin. I trekked upstairs and flopped on my bed, breathing in the yummy baby-fresh scent that lingered on my pillowcase. Maybe tomorrow I’d give Ethyl Merton a call and find out who else she’d told of my arrival. Right after I found out their brand of fabric softener, I’d bawl them out for ripping up my mom’s picture and writing those three maddening words across the front.

Don’t ask why.

As if that were possible. Whoever had done the deed might as well have written, “Definitely ask why.”

I rested my eyes for a few minutes, then got back to work downstairs making the bathroom presentable. The fixtures were old, but functional. Nothing a little caulk and white paint couldn’t cure, at least temporarily.

Afterward, I washed up, then heated a mug of tomato soup in my travel-size microwave. I took the steaming brew into my drafty great room. I sat in the dark and looked through the tall windows at the stars. Tomorrow promised to be clear and bright. If the wind died down, I’d get out and exercise.

I sipped my soup. Brad had been the one to get me walking three times a week on top of daily stretching. By the time I left Rawlings, he and I had become a regular sight along a three-mile route.

My lip scrunched. Somehow, hitting the trail wouldn’t be the same without my walking buddy. But that was the choice I’d made, I reminded myself. And it was a good one. Because here I was, close to the people who had known my mother. I’d find out what I came to learn. Only then could I be in a relationship and be happy about it. I wouldn’t have to feel dumb when I said, “I don’t know,” to every question about my parentage. I frowned as I remembered Candice’s disparaging attitude toward my dad’s side of the family. Still, at least I’d have answers, even if I didn’t like them.