Chapter 42

Elena

I had not seen or spoken to Alice in weeks. Since coming back to life, I had no interest in continuing to make an effort for a woman who would harass and abuse me whenever she could.

My intentions had been to never see her again, something I thought she would enjoy. But now here she was, reaching out to me.

“What could she possibly want from me?” I found myself saying, hearing the exasperation in my voice.

“Are you going to answer it?”

I looked up at Killian, and at first all I could see was his lips. He still had one hand on my thigh.

I blushed as I took in the rest of the earnest look on his face. I was reminded that he had his own relationship with Alice, and it was so different from mine. Did he know how awful she was to me when I was young? Did he just look the other way, like so many others?

The phone suddenly stopped ringing, making the choice for me. I exhaled, as if in the time she was calling she could see someone.

A ping, and the screen lit up again. A voicemail.

“Elena?” Killian didn’t understand, he never could. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that my former evil step-mother is calling,” I said matter-of-factly, “and I am choosing not to answer it.”

“Evil? Come on, Elena, enough with that trope,” Killian said, condescending. “It must be so hard for her with Natalie gone, to watch you live the life she should’ve had.”

My eyeballs almost bulged out of my head and I pulled away from him.

“I am living my own life!” I knew that wasn’t the whole truth. “I cannot live Natalie’s life before that was hers and this is mine, and we all need to remind ourselves of that.”

I stood from the couch, smoothing my clothing and realigning myself. Killian would always find a way to make me feel guilty about Natalie’s disappearance, no matter what changed in this timeline.

His hand caught mine in the air before I could pull away.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, “I didn’t mean it that way. Only trying to explain that her bitterness comes from grief, not malice.”

“I don’t know,” I said with a smirk, “Alice, malice— it seems a no-brainer.”

“Just hear what she has to say,” he said, giving my hand a little shake. I pulled it away and took a step away, angling to face him. “You can always just say no.”

Alone in my bedroom, I listened to her voicemail. Then I listened to it again.

Alice wasn’t calling because she wanted something from me. She was calling to let me know that she was sick with pancreatic cancer.

My heart betrayed my head as it sank in my chest when I heard those words. Damn empathy.

I sat still for a while, thinking about what I knew about this disease and what she must be going through. I thought about when she only let me rice and beans for two weeks because she said times were hard and I didn’t deserve any meat.

A phantom pang of stomach pain stabbed and doubled me over. I laughed out loud at the cruel trick of the universe, the psychosomatic reactions to past trauma and shame.

I called her back.

She sounded like a different person, suddenly humbled in the face of her own mortality. She invited me over the next afternoon, said she wanted to give me something, and I reluctantly said yes.

I baked scones in the morning, remembering that the only time I could get a nice word out of Alice was if I fed her. I practiced my culinary skills for that reason, and found they came in handy when married to a hungry Alpha.

Now it calmed me and centered me as well as being a nice treat for others.

But when I stood on Alice’s doorstep, at the house where I had spent so many years of my life, I was a ball of nerves. What if it was some sort of trap? Maybe she wasn’t sick at all, but had a hired assistant waiting to do her dirty work. Maybe she also thought that Natalie wasn’t dead, and wanted my help.

I almost turned to retrace my steps when the door opened.

She looked smaller, but her face had been the same since she adopted me. It was the first time I thought that she probably had work done to stay that way.

“Elena! Come in,” she said, throwing her arms out in a plea for a hug. I held the scones in front of my body to avoid it. “You didn’t need to bring anything, but oh they smell delicious.”

Her expression looked strange to me, then I realized she was smiling. It was never something I had seen her direct at me and it was a bit jarring. I allowed her to put her hand on my shoulder as she guided me into the living room like I was a first-time visitor.

“I’ll just get some napkins of these scones,” she said walking towards the kitchen. “Do you want tea? Water?”

“Tea would be nice, thank you,” I didn’t recognize whatever polite voice I was adopting, but it sounded convincing. I kept myself on alert, but managed the exterior to stay cool.

As we settled into cups and saucers— china pieces I’d never been allowed to use before— she looked at me with affection. I mused that perhaps she was already heavily medicated and this was drug-induced euphoria. We made the smallest of small talk before we fell into silence.

“I’m so sorry, about your…” I panicked.

“Oh, yes,” she said lightly, her eyelids fluttering slightly, “it’s quite a nuisance. But life is short, and we never know what the goddess has in store for us. I only hope to have lived a good life with the one I was given. Even if it was full of tragedy.”

I sighed. She was still such a complex woman, so in touch with the world and yes oblivious to her faults. I was amazed she was saying all this to me, of all people.

“But perhaps I am being punished,” she continued, interrupting my mental rant against her. “Elena, I know I wasn’t always the best guardian to you.”

You could say that again.

“Natalie was my joy, my whole world, especially after her father died,” Alice said, her eyes moist. “And at first I thought a second daughter would be a good thing for us, but I was wrong. And I hated myself for making that mistake, and taking out that shame on you. You and Natalie became rivals instead of friends, and I encouraged it instead of stopping it. You were a child, and I was meant to protect you and raise you. And I failed.”

My own eyes were irritated as she spoke, and I tried not to blink so I wouldn't lose the battle and shed tears in front of her.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Alice said, “and I only wish it didn’t take cancer to make me see the error of my past.”

I found it hard to speak yet, so I nodded in acceptance.

“You don’t have to forgive me, of course,” she said to my silence. “Maybe I’m being selfish now, making amends to cleanse my soul in case this all goes down hill.”

Speaking of her condition weakened her, and she shifted her weight carefully in her chair.

“I’m sure you’re going to be fine,” I said, not sure at all. “And, if there is anything I can do, as Luna, to help you, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

I didn’t know where this altruism was coming from, but it didn’t feel terrible.

“You are so kind,” Alice said, smiling, “and to think you turned out this way in spite of all that vitriol I threw at you.”

Her word choice felt like a barb, and my face flinched. She saw it.

“But really,” I tried to save it, “I can get you referrals for treatments, therapy options— we have the resources and they should be used.”

“Thank you, Luna,” she said. It was the first time in three years that she had called me that.

Before I left, she retrieved a small box from a closet and brought it to me at the door.

“I should have given you this a long time ago,” Alice said. “My ego was always in the way, but at least I can see you open it with my own eyes.”

“What is it?”

She nodded, and I opened the top hatch of the box. Inside was a necklace, a woven chain of mixed metals that seemed to move when it caught the light. It was mystical and stunning.

I looked up at Alice, whose eyes were lit up.

“It belonged to your birthmother.”