Page 5 of Stolen Fate

“Yeah.”

Emilia walked to the fridge then, searching for her protein fix. Like Mom, Emilia followed a very strict diet—one she never strayed from. I admired her discipline the most. Sometimes it was like seeing Mom all over again, from some of the little things she did, down to the food she ate.

I supposed that was why Dad adored her so much.

It wasn’t until she was out of earshot that Dad spoke. “What’s wrong, Evelyn?”

“What? What makes you think something is wrong?”

He walked over to me, his cane clicking on the hardwood floor with each step he took. He moved his pointer finger gently between my eyebrows, down to the tip of my nose. “You always get a little indent here when you’re worried. Just like your mother.”

“Huh?” I didn’t know that.

He shot me a whimsical smile. “Tell me, my treasure, what’s gotten you so worried? And is there anything I can do to help?”

Without thinking, I wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my face into his chest. “Oh, Daddy. Nothing’s worrying me. I promise. I don’t want you to give this anymore thought. I am as happy as I can be.”

He swiped his thumb under my cheek. “Then what’s this? Why are you crying?”

I quickly wiped away the tears. Dammit. And here I thought I hid my feelings well.

“I just miss Mom, you know?” And that was true. It was another reason I couldn’t understand why Emilia was trying so hard to set Dad up on dates. If I hadn’t gotten over her death by now, how could we expect Dad to be?

Dad’s eyes turned sad, and I looked away. I didn’t mean to make him upset. “I know, sweetheart. I do, too. Why, just this morning I called out her name, expecting her to pop her head out of the bathroom like she had always done. And then I remembered, and it felt like her death all over again.” He shook his head, smiling through the tears.

I bit my bottom lip to keep from crying. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up and get you all sad again.”

He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. “I think it’s important that we talk about it. Your mom wouldn’t want us to forget about her.”

“No, she wouldn’t.” I grabbed the keys from the side table by the door. “Hey, I think I’m going to take a walk. Do you mind?”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

It sounded tempting. Dad spent so much of his free time with Emilia, I rarely ever got him all to myself. I shook my head, knowing my sister would insist on coming along, never wanting to be left out of anything. And I couldn’t look at Emilia right now. I didn’t know how to tell her that her dream—Mom’s dream—might not come true after all.

“I’m good. I just need a few moments to myself. I’ll be back before dinner.”

“Alright.”

I left the house without another word.

Mom and Dad bought this house, their first house, thirty years ago—long before I was even born. The plan had been to fill the place with at least four children. Mom came from a big family, and she always wanted one of her own, and Dad was willing to do whatever it took to make her happy.

But Mom had a hard time getting pregnant. Between my older brother Ethan’s birth, mine, and Emilia’s, she had three miscarriages. They decided to stop trying after Emilia because Mom didn’t think she could go through another loss again.

The big house we lived in had six bedrooms, two of which remained empty, a finished basement that had long ago been transformed into a small dance studio for Mom and Emilia to practice in, a living room too big for our small family, and acres of grass that surrounded the house. It was a nice place, and it was worth much more than what Mom and Dad had paid for it. It was certainly too big for four people, and our nearest neighbor was a half a mile away.

Even still, I knew Dad still saw her here sometimes.

I knew he would never move.

And I didn’t blame him. I had a hard time moving out of the house myself. Even after I graduated from college last year, I came back home.

We all lived at home: Ethan, Emilia, Dad, and I.

Ethan was only two years older than me. He seemed to have a lot going on in his life, but didn’t seem to have any grand aspirations. He was a lot like me in that regard, but that was where the similarities ended because Ethan was a troublemaker, and he was away from home more than he was in, out drinking with the same people he had hung out with since high school.

If I thought I was lost, then Ethan was adrift. And I didn’t want to have to deal with that, not when I had so much going on already.

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