"Alison, what am I going to do? What am I going to do?" Livvie sobbed,
wrapping her arms tightly around her ribcage, not bothering to swipe at the
fresh tears coursing down her cheeks, the rivulets making delicate lines in
her makeup.
"We'll think of something, Livvie, I promise," Alison said absently as she embraced her friend. All the while, Raven sat on the couch, feeling frightened and guilty. I could be stopping this freak right now, and Livvie and Jack and Eli could be together right this second, and here I sit. Why me?!
"Actually," Alison continued, shifting her gaze to her daughter, "Raven and I were just talking about that." Livvie lifted her head for a moment. "What?" "Well, we've figured out a way to stop Caleb," Alison said slowly. She felt awful doing this to her daughter, but she could really help right now, and even though it was risky, Alison felt deep down that it would be okay.
"What? How? Lucy's too old now, and Rafe is gone! Who else is there?" Livvie said quietly. "Me," Raven said, standing up. "I'm a slayer. But I don't think I can do this!" Livvie's eyes pleaded with Raven long before she spoke. "No, Raven - you are the only one who can do this! Please, please help me. If you don't stop Caleb, nothing will...and I'll never see my husband or my son again!"
Raven looked down at the floor, knowing what she had to do, and also knowing she'd never felt such massive self-doubt in all her life.
*
"I'll do it," Frank said boldly. Christina wondered if perhaps he were just trying to impress her. In either case, her stomach lurched nervously when she heard the bells tolling inside. Moments later, a kind looking older woman appeared in the doorway. Her countenance shifted from careless to shocked when she saw the three of them standing there. Her hand went to her cheek, and she uttered a low oh my. "Mrs. Devlin?" Frank began. This intrigued Christina. Why would he call her Mrs. Devlin? He must not have known her very well.
"Uh, do you remember us?" Chris offered when the woman didn't respond. The woman closed her eyes and shook her head briskly. "Yes, certainly. I mean, I recognize you, Chris, and Frank, but I can't seem to place this young lady, " she said, first smiling, and then pursing her lips, confused. "Mrs. Devlin, this is Christina, mine and Julie's daughter. You met her when she was just a baby," Frank said gently.
Mrs. Devlin's hand returned to her face and she repeated the words oh my. Tears appeared in the corners of her eyes as she reached out and stroked Christina's face. Christina smiled timidly. The woman shook her head again, and smiled, seeming to have collected herself. "Well, please, won't you come in?" she asked, showing them through the door into an expansive living room.
"You'll have to excuse me about before, " she said, "It was quite a shock to see you after so long. Speaking of which, what brings you here?" She asked the last question cautiously. Frank and Chris looked at one another nervously, twiddling their thumbs. They seemed speechless, so Christina figured she'd help them out.
"They brought me to find out about my mother. My real mother," she said brightly. She quickly slid a glance at Chris and Frank, hoping she'd done the right thing. Then she stole a small look at Mrs. Devlin, her real grandmother. Her expression hadn't changed much, but Frank and Chris looked a bit panicked.
"Um, for a school assignment, for school." Chris said hurriedly. Frank elbowed him. "In July?" Mrs. Devlin asked, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah," Christina said, playing along, "you know, some schools give summer assignments?" "Oh," Mrs. Devlin said casually, "I didn't realize they did that. What a bore, huh, darling?" Christina smiled and nodded politely, heaving an exaggerated sigh. She wondered if she'd inherited her acting skills from Julie.
Mrs. Devlin's smile faded slowly, and she cleared her throat. "So, what did you need to know about Julie? I can tell you just about anything. That is, what Christopher and Frank can't tell you."
"Actually," Chris interrupted, "she'd like to see Julie's grave. It's a memoir, her assignment, and we think that would help her out a lot, to see where Julie is buried and all." Suddenly, Mrs. Devlin got a strange look on her face, as she slowly shook her head. "That's not possible. I'm sorry." Her voice was monotone, with a hint of panic.
"What do you mean? Why not?" Chris blurted. Mrs. Devlin stood. "I think you should go now," she said firmly as she started towards the door. Christina looked at Chris and Frank, and mouthed what now? Frank stood up and walked over to Mrs. Devlin. "Mrs. Devlin, I apologize. On behalf of the three of us. It was completely insensitive for us to come here and make such a request. Please forgive us," he said smoothly. Mrs. Devlin's hard expression softened a tiny bit, but she remained at the door.
"I still want you to leave. Now, please. Christina, any time you want to find out about your mother's life, please feel free to call again. Good afternoon." Mrs. Devlin stood at the door, holding it open, waiting.
"Again, I'm sorry. We'll leave at once, " Frank said. "But before we go, could I please use your restroom?" Mrs. Devlin contemplated Frank's request, and reluctantly replied. "Very well. It's up the stair to the right. As for you," she said, indicating Chris and Christina, "you may wait in your car. Good day." Chris looked suspiciously at Frank, but surrendered and led Christina to the car.
"Come on, there's got to be something," Frank said to himself as he rooted around Mrs. Devlin's bedroom, hoping to find some clue of Julie's existence. He worked quietly, diligently, rifling through drawers and closets, but coming up with nothing. Until he noticed an envelope on the nightstand next to the door. He silently tiptoed to it, checking the doorway. There was a piece of paper lying on top of the envelope. Frank noticed with disappointment that it was nothing more than a phone bill.
Wait a minute. Frank scanned the bill, and noticed that there were a number of calls to Aurora. One every other night, to be exact. At the same time. As if Mrs. Devlin were keeping in touch with someone. Frank knew it was a long shot, but about the only shot they had as of now. He strolled into the bathroom, flushed the toilet, and came downstairs, where Mrs. Devlin had set to making herself some coffee.
"Thank you very much, Mrs. Devlin, " Frank called over his shoulder as he returned to the car. He slid into the passenger seat. "So where do we go from here?" Chris asked. Frank held up the phone bill between two fingers. "Aurora."
*
While Frank was playing sleuth tracking down his old flame, his current wife was at home with her own teenage sleuth, who had just uncovered her biggest secret.
"Sascha...." Karen stammered, unsure of how to proceed. She should've known that this day would come. How could she have been so dense as to think that it wouldn't? "Is this what it looks like, Mom?" Sascha said, her tone shifting from irritated to serious. Karen felt tears stinging in her eyes, but she wasn't sure why. What if this ruined Sascha and Frank's relationship? Oh, gosh, Frank! What was Frank going to do when he found out?
"Sweetie, let's sit down," Karen said when she could finally remove her sandpaper tongue from the roof of her mouth. Sascha obliged, and as they sank onto the sofa, Karen took the photos. The memories came flooding back, and she almost smiled, in spite of herself. "Just tell me the truth, Mom, okay? Please," Sascha pleaded. Karen nodded, and tucked a tress behind one ear.
"You're right. You're old enough to know now." Sascha felt her heart leap. She thought that she'd gotten over the initial shock and had prepared herself for the truth, but now that it was so close to being real, she wasn't sure.
"So....so then Ricky is my....is..." she stammered awkwardly. "Your father," Karen said, then quickly continued, "but only biological. Dad is your father in everyway that counts, and you know that Sascha," Karen ran her hands through her hair. She felt a migraine coming on.
"I can't believe this." Karen felt her blood pressure rising as annoyance worked it's way into her dappled expression. "My God, Sascha! Why did you even turn over this leaf?! Couldn't you have just left things as they were?" Sascha flew off the couch. ""Excuse me, Mother, but don't you think that I deserve to know who my own father is!?" she exclaimed.
Karen massaged her throbbing temple, and nodded apologetically. "So what? Were you just never going to tell me? Keep this stuff stashed away in your closet until the day that you died so that I'd have to deal with it on my own?"
"No, sweetie, I...I don't know. I don't know what I was going to do. I knew I'd have to tell you sometime, but our family was just so happy......" Karen's voice grew teary. "Just tell me everything," Sascha eased, touching her mother's arm. Karen began to cry. Sascha sighed, half sorry and half angry. If she was going to get some real answers, she knew just where to find them. She stood up, and whisked her jacket off it's hook.
"Where are you going?" Karen blubbered. Sascha paused in the doorway and straightened her jacket. "To talk to my father."
"We'll think of something, Livvie, I promise," Alison said absently as she embraced her friend. All the while, Raven sat on the couch, feeling frightened and guilty. I could be stopping this freak right now, and Livvie and Jack and Eli could be together right this second, and here I sit. Why me?!
"Actually," Alison continued, shifting her gaze to her daughter, "Raven and I were just talking about that." Livvie lifted her head for a moment. "What?" "Well, we've figured out a way to stop Caleb," Alison said slowly. She felt awful doing this to her daughter, but she could really help right now, and even though it was risky, Alison felt deep down that it would be okay.
"What? How? Lucy's too old now, and Rafe is gone! Who else is there?" Livvie said quietly. "Me," Raven said, standing up. "I'm a slayer. But I don't think I can do this!" Livvie's eyes pleaded with Raven long before she spoke. "No, Raven - you are the only one who can do this! Please, please help me. If you don't stop Caleb, nothing will...and I'll never see my husband or my son again!"
Raven looked down at the floor, knowing what she had to do, and also knowing she'd never felt such massive self-doubt in all her life.
*
"I'll do it," Frank said boldly. Christina wondered if perhaps he were just trying to impress her. In either case, her stomach lurched nervously when she heard the bells tolling inside. Moments later, a kind looking older woman appeared in the doorway. Her countenance shifted from careless to shocked when she saw the three of them standing there. Her hand went to her cheek, and she uttered a low oh my. "Mrs. Devlin?" Frank began. This intrigued Christina. Why would he call her Mrs. Devlin? He must not have known her very well.
"Uh, do you remember us?" Chris offered when the woman didn't respond. The woman closed her eyes and shook her head briskly. "Yes, certainly. I mean, I recognize you, Chris, and Frank, but I can't seem to place this young lady, " she said, first smiling, and then pursing her lips, confused. "Mrs. Devlin, this is Christina, mine and Julie's daughter. You met her when she was just a baby," Frank said gently.
Mrs. Devlin's hand returned to her face and she repeated the words oh my. Tears appeared in the corners of her eyes as she reached out and stroked Christina's face. Christina smiled timidly. The woman shook her head again, and smiled, seeming to have collected herself. "Well, please, won't you come in?" she asked, showing them through the door into an expansive living room.
"You'll have to excuse me about before, " she said, "It was quite a shock to see you after so long. Speaking of which, what brings you here?" She asked the last question cautiously. Frank and Chris looked at one another nervously, twiddling their thumbs. They seemed speechless, so Christina figured she'd help them out.
"They brought me to find out about my mother. My real mother," she said brightly. She quickly slid a glance at Chris and Frank, hoping she'd done the right thing. Then she stole a small look at Mrs. Devlin, her real grandmother. Her expression hadn't changed much, but Frank and Chris looked a bit panicked.
"Um, for a school assignment, for school." Chris said hurriedly. Frank elbowed him. "In July?" Mrs. Devlin asked, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah," Christina said, playing along, "you know, some schools give summer assignments?" "Oh," Mrs. Devlin said casually, "I didn't realize they did that. What a bore, huh, darling?" Christina smiled and nodded politely, heaving an exaggerated sigh. She wondered if she'd inherited her acting skills from Julie.
Mrs. Devlin's smile faded slowly, and she cleared her throat. "So, what did you need to know about Julie? I can tell you just about anything. That is, what Christopher and Frank can't tell you."
"Actually," Chris interrupted, "she'd like to see Julie's grave. It's a memoir, her assignment, and we think that would help her out a lot, to see where Julie is buried and all." Suddenly, Mrs. Devlin got a strange look on her face, as she slowly shook her head. "That's not possible. I'm sorry." Her voice was monotone, with a hint of panic.
"What do you mean? Why not?" Chris blurted. Mrs. Devlin stood. "I think you should go now," she said firmly as she started towards the door. Christina looked at Chris and Frank, and mouthed what now? Frank stood up and walked over to Mrs. Devlin. "Mrs. Devlin, I apologize. On behalf of the three of us. It was completely insensitive for us to come here and make such a request. Please forgive us," he said smoothly. Mrs. Devlin's hard expression softened a tiny bit, but she remained at the door.
"I still want you to leave. Now, please. Christina, any time you want to find out about your mother's life, please feel free to call again. Good afternoon." Mrs. Devlin stood at the door, holding it open, waiting.
"Again, I'm sorry. We'll leave at once, " Frank said. "But before we go, could I please use your restroom?" Mrs. Devlin contemplated Frank's request, and reluctantly replied. "Very well. It's up the stair to the right. As for you," she said, indicating Chris and Christina, "you may wait in your car. Good day." Chris looked suspiciously at Frank, but surrendered and led Christina to the car.
"Come on, there's got to be something," Frank said to himself as he rooted around Mrs. Devlin's bedroom, hoping to find some clue of Julie's existence. He worked quietly, diligently, rifling through drawers and closets, but coming up with nothing. Until he noticed an envelope on the nightstand next to the door. He silently tiptoed to it, checking the doorway. There was a piece of paper lying on top of the envelope. Frank noticed with disappointment that it was nothing more than a phone bill.
Wait a minute. Frank scanned the bill, and noticed that there were a number of calls to Aurora. One every other night, to be exact. At the same time. As if Mrs. Devlin were keeping in touch with someone. Frank knew it was a long shot, but about the only shot they had as of now. He strolled into the bathroom, flushed the toilet, and came downstairs, where Mrs. Devlin had set to making herself some coffee.
"Thank you very much, Mrs. Devlin, " Frank called over his shoulder as he returned to the car. He slid into the passenger seat. "So where do we go from here?" Chris asked. Frank held up the phone bill between two fingers. "Aurora."
*
While Frank was playing sleuth tracking down his old flame, his current wife was at home with her own teenage sleuth, who had just uncovered her biggest secret.
"Sascha...." Karen stammered, unsure of how to proceed. She should've known that this day would come. How could she have been so dense as to think that it wouldn't? "Is this what it looks like, Mom?" Sascha said, her tone shifting from irritated to serious. Karen felt tears stinging in her eyes, but she wasn't sure why. What if this ruined Sascha and Frank's relationship? Oh, gosh, Frank! What was Frank going to do when he found out?
"Sweetie, let's sit down," Karen said when she could finally remove her sandpaper tongue from the roof of her mouth. Sascha obliged, and as they sank onto the sofa, Karen took the photos. The memories came flooding back, and she almost smiled, in spite of herself. "Just tell me the truth, Mom, okay? Please," Sascha pleaded. Karen nodded, and tucked a tress behind one ear.
"You're right. You're old enough to know now." Sascha felt her heart leap. She thought that she'd gotten over the initial shock and had prepared herself for the truth, but now that it was so close to being real, she wasn't sure.
"So....so then Ricky is my....is..." she stammered awkwardly. "Your father," Karen said, then quickly continued, "but only biological. Dad is your father in everyway that counts, and you know that Sascha," Karen ran her hands through her hair. She felt a migraine coming on.
"I can't believe this." Karen felt her blood pressure rising as annoyance worked it's way into her dappled expression. "My God, Sascha! Why did you even turn over this leaf?! Couldn't you have just left things as they were?" Sascha flew off the couch. ""Excuse me, Mother, but don't you think that I deserve to know who my own father is!?" she exclaimed.
Karen massaged her throbbing temple, and nodded apologetically. "So what? Were you just never going to tell me? Keep this stuff stashed away in your closet until the day that you died so that I'd have to deal with it on my own?"
"No, sweetie, I...I don't know. I don't know what I was going to do. I knew I'd have to tell you sometime, but our family was just so happy......" Karen's voice grew teary. "Just tell me everything," Sascha eased, touching her mother's arm. Karen began to cry. Sascha sighed, half sorry and half angry. If she was going to get some real answers, she knew just where to find them. She stood up, and whisked her jacket off it's hook.
"Where are you going?" Karen blubbered. Sascha paused in the doorway and straightened her jacket. "To talk to my father."