Page 15 of Forget Me Not
Hal threw his head back, laughing. Shaking his head, he turned and walked down the hall toward his office.
“Always with the motor!”
An hour and a half on the road between Timberfall and Bozeman meant Bastien had ninety minutes of Taylor Swift and his sister’s off-key singing to survive before they’d arrive.
Timberfall was not a microscopic town. The number of tourists who passed through while visiting Yellowstone and the surrounding parks made sure of that, but it was not a grand metropolis either. Aside from a few, very specific boutiques and second-hand shops, there was nowhere Delanira could go to purchase two fancy, evening gowns.
So, Bozeman it was.
The Jeep slowed to a stop as they pulled into a line of cars at the one toll booth unfortunately placed in their path. While Bas refused to touch any of the money Dez left behind, he couldn’t bear to see the borderline obnoxiously large—and definitely obnoxiously lime green—vehicle sitting unused in the driveway. The only thing Desiderio loved more than his family was his damned Jeep, and it showed in every accessory and modification he’d added to it. So, Bas fully relinquished his Durango to Soriah and started driving ‘Fiona’ full-time.
Silence filled the cab when Del reached out one of her perfectly manicured fingers and turned off the radio. Bas choked on a groan, trying to ignore the burning sensationundoubtedly caused by his sister’s unwavering stare boring into the side of his head.
“I overheard you talking to Mom,” she stated, “about Hal’s.”
Bas continued to ignore her. He knew she was going to bring upsomethinghe did not want to talk about.
The line moved and he crept the Jeep forward.
“I agree with her, for what it’s worth,” Del murmured, a hint of sadness in her voice. Though still a child, she had already seen so much loss.
“Delanira,” he warned, the word carrying more weight beneath the surface.
Bas cut her a quick glance as he eased the car up the last few feet to the teller window. Montana was one of very few states left that still employed people to operate their tolls opposed to the computer operated booths further east. Del huffed, crossed her arms and turned toward her window. The accompanying eye roll was so excessive it could be felt from the driver’s seat without ever needing to be seen. Bas paid the attendant, collected his receipt and urged the vehicle back onto the road, merging into the traffic with practiced ease. Del continued to stare out the window even after her brother turned the radio back on, ‘Red’playing just shy of too-loud from the speakers.
Six hours, four stores, and two food breaks later, Del had two new dresses hanging in the back, accompanied by two new pairs of shoes and a small bag of jewelry from a shop inthe mall. Bas had proved to be even less helpful than Soriah would have been. Every dress the teen had tried on had been too short or too revealing, and Bas had not been afraid to voice his opinion. The odds of Del ever asking either of her family members to go shopping with her ever again were very slim.
That night, Bastien sat in the mausoleum long enough to start and finish an entire book. After every chapter, he stood to check for his doe.
For the first time, she never appeared.
Syve
Dearest Syve,
Happy New Year, my love! You tried so hard to stay awake, but here we are—11:45 and you’re asleep in my lap.
Maybe next year you’ll make it.
Gods help me, I can’t believe you’re already 10 years old! It sure doesn’t feel like an entire decade has gone by…
I suppose I only have a few more years left until I know for sure if my little fawn is more Balko or Dorran.
That’s vague.
Let me see if I can clarify a little better…It’s probably time I do that anyway.
There’s a gene, we’ll say, that hasbeen passed down in our family for a very long time. I have it, your Nan has it, your Granddad had it too.
Your Dad doesn’t have this gene, and as far as I know, he is the first person to marry into the Dorran family without it. Remember those friends I told you about? The ones who also shared this secret? Well, their family has a similar gene, and they also haven’t heard of someone marrying another person without it.
That’s to say, it’s been passed down for generations without anyone ever knowing if it’s a dominant or recessive gene.
Long story short—you, my love, are special—the first born 50/50.
Puberty usually triggers the gene and it…shows up. I have no way of knowing if you have the gene at all, or if it will even manifest—and it’s in our best interest not to get doctors involved.
I clearly didn’t think about any of this when I met your father, but honestly? I don’t know that it would have changed anything. I hope one day you get the chance to see what I mean—to meet someone whose heart beats in time with yours…
