Escaping Fate (8 page)

What else could I do but accept her
offer? Pushing her away would only provoke more questions. “Yeah, I
guess they are a little confusing,” I said.

Nodding her head in agreement, my mom
pointed to the top of the page and began explaining. There was much
more information on one page than I had expected. My mom showed me
where to find the names of the parents of the family the worksheet
was about, then how to find the children’s names as well. There was
also detailed information about where and when each person was
born, married, died, and buried.

“Is there someone specific you were
trying to find?” my mom asked.

I turned my face to look out the
window, unable to trust my features not to betray my uneasiness.
“No, I was just curious,” I said. I felt bad lying to my mom, but
the truth would only make things worse. “Grandpa was telling me
stories about our family, about some of our ancestors in South
America. I was just curious to learn about some of the people he
mentioned.” I smiled hoping my explanation would hold
up.

Smiling even wider than before, my mom
put a hand on my shoulder. “You know, Grandpa was the one who
inspired me to start researching our family history too. When your
father and I were dating, Alden was always telling me stories about
one person or another. To be perfectly honest,” she said with a
smile, “I thought he was making most of it up, but as I got to know
more of the family I realized he was actually telling the truth.
Someday I hope to have the family history all the way back to the
time of the Aztecs.”

“Grandpa would love that,” I said. I
remembered how my grandpa had praised my mom’s work, but his
disappointment that she did not know any of the stories had come
with the praise. “Have you ever thought of writing down some of his
stories?”

“I have,” she admitted, “but I’m not
very talented when it comes to writing narratives. Maybe this is a
project you should consider taking on.” She patted my shoulder.
“How was his doctor’s appointment? Did he say anything about
it?”

“Just that his cholesterol is still too
high,” I said, thankful for the change in topics. “He said he was
fine, though.”

“He always says that,” my mom said. The
frown on her face said she did not appreciate his optimism. “He
really ought to take better care of himself. Maybe I’ll have your
father speak to him about it tonight.”

I shrugged and smiled. I doubted it
would do any good, but I didn’t want to see my grandpa leave me any
earlier than he had to.

“You should think about helping Grandpa
write his family’s stories down. He won’t always be around to tell
them,” she said.

“I’ll think about it, Mom. Thanks for
the help with the forms,” I said as she moved back toward the
living room, looking distracted.

“Sure, dear. I’ll be working on the
photo albums for a while.”

“Okay, Mom.”

My search drug on for the rest of the
afternoon, but the time was definitely not wasted. After a
considerable amount of time spent getting used to the way the full
page forms were organized, I started flipping through the pages
with ease. Finally, I came across an entry for Elizabeth Malo.
Victoria’s entry was many pages deeper into the binder. I happened
upon it just as my mom came back into the kitchen and asked me to
clean up for dinner. Quickly noting the death date I flipped the
notebook closed.

Elizabeth Malo was born in nineteen
hundred two and died in nineteen hundred eighteen. The picture I’d
found of Victoria had been dated 1845, but she was apparently only
twelve in that picture, and sadly died four years later. I wished I
could say I was surprised to discover that both girls died on their
sixteenth birthdays just like Katie and Maera. After my grandpa’s
startling reaction to the topic, I knew what I would find. Actually
finding the dates still sent fear crawling down my spine, though.
Even with only four links, I knew the chain would continue, even
past my mom’s records.

When my mom asked me to clear the
notebooks out of the room so the table could be set for dinner, I
truly felt like giving up. I did not want to find anything else. I
was so disheartened and worried that I honestly considered putting
everything I had learned back into their boxes and simply waiting,
waiting for whatever was going to find me. It was beyond simply
pretending I had never seen Katie’s picture. What I knew could not
be taken back any more. Did I really want to know what was going to
happen anyway? Could it in any way make it better, especially if I
could do nothing to escape my fate?

All through dinner I wrestled with
whether I would continue my search. Grandpa had given me the
choice. He promised to keep working whether I continued or not. And
to be honest, he really didn’t sound like he thought I could do
anything that would really matter. Would it make that much of a
difference?

My fear compelled me to give up, but
how could I know what was coming and simply sit and wait for death
to swallow me. If there was something hunting the women of my
family, then finding the reason, or the hunter, could stop
everything. I had no illusions of becoming some kind of Hollywood
heroine, saving the day in the nick of time, but perhaps I could
still do something. I refused to turn myself over to some unseen
power, walking meekly to my last breath.

I watched my mom clear the table and
prepare a plate for my dad as I tried to decide what to do. My dad
would not get home until after ten o’clock, but he never missed my
mom’s meals. My mom’s practiced movements unfortunately held no
divine inspiration for me. Dragging the books and pictures I had
been searching into my bedroom, I dropped it on my bed and knew
there really wasn’t any choice to make anyway. Finding the truth
was the only real way to go. Spreading everything I had acquired on
my bedspread, I surveyed the collage. What was going on? Determined
to find the answers, I settled onto the only bare spot on the
bed.

Chapter Ten

I was scouring more of the genealogy
records when the phone rang. My mom answered by the second ring and
I went back to my search, ignoring the one sided conversation. Or
at least trying too.

“Arra,” my mom called.

Annoyed at the interruption, I trudged
into the living room. “Yeah, Mom?”

“That was your dad on the phone. He
left his wallet here, and he won’t be home for a while yet. Would
you mind running to the hospital for me?”

The hospital was a more than a mile
from our house. With no metro trains, I did not want to walk the
entire way there and back. I was about to object, when my mother
held out the keys to her car.

“Really?” I asked doubtfully. I had
gotten my driver’s license before we left Manhattan, but my mom had
yet to actually let me put it to use. Her fear of letting a
teenager drive among other cars, was almost as great a having a gun
in the house.

“The traffic’s not so bad here. I’m
sure you’ll be fine, right?” my mom said, uncertainly. “Maybe you
can stop and get us some ice cream on your way back.”

From the way my mom was clutching the
keys in her nervous hands, I started to wonder whether my dad had
been behind the request from the beginning. He was trying just as
hard as my mom to get me to accept Grainer as my new home. What
neither of her parents realized was that living in Grainer was the
lowest thing on my list of worries right now.

“Well, get going. You’re father’s
hungry. He needs a snack at least.” My mom relinquished the keys
with a smile that was twitching at one corner. “Take this too,” she
said, tossing me her cellular phone. “Just in case.” She shrugged
nervously and waved me out the door.

Excited, I darted across the lawn to
the car. My mom’s car was a sensible Volvo S40. Known to be the
safest cars in production, my mom refused to drive anything but a
Volvo. I turned the ignition and grinned. Perhaps moving to Grainer
would provide a few perks I wouldn’t have gotten in the city after
all.

Enjoying the freedom the car provided,
I made my way through the practically empty streets to the
hospital. Given the fact that I could see the hospital from any
high point in town I made it to the main entrance fairly easily. I
pulled up to find my dad waiting for me in front of the big sliding
doors that had a sign above it that read “Emergency”. From the
peaceful atmosphere, I doubted an actual emergency happened here
very often.

My dad waved at me as he approached the
car. He seemed pleased that my mom had given in to his suggestion.
I jumped out and handed him his wallet. “Hey, sweetheart, thanks
for bringing me my wallet.”

“Yeah, no problem,” I said.

“How was the drive?” he asked, grinning
widely.

“It was fine, Dad. Thanks for that by
the way.” There was no point in denying it was his idea so he just
shrugged my thanks away. I wanted to spend a few more minutes with
him, but his dinner hour was quickly wasting away. After a quick
hug I started back to the car.

“Oh, hey, Dad, do you know where I can
get some ice cream around here?” I asked.

“There’s a place on Main Street. You
can’t miss it. It’s the only one in town,” he said, rolling his
eyes dramatically, mocking me and all my complaints I was sure. I
just laughed. He joined in and kissed the top of my head before
hurrying back inside.

Pulling back onto Main Street I quickly
found out why my dad had been so sure I would be able to find the
ice cream shop. The painted image of an ice cream cone towered a
good five feet higher than any of the other buildings on the strip.
After several attempts I managed to parallel park the Volvo smack
dab in front of the giant ice cream cone.

The ice cream parlor was exactly what I
had expected it to be, straight out of an episode of Leave it to
Beaver. I smiled to myself and approached the counter. All I could
see was a middle aged woman with her back to me. I wasn’t sure what
she was doing until I heard a screeching sound and saw her turn to
reveal a soft-serve ice cream machine. The woman behind the counter
was too busy man-handling the machine to notice me at
first.

“Excuse me?” I said.

“Oh. Sorry, I’ll be with you in a
moment,” she said with a strained smile.

I nodded, in no hurry to get back home.
Studying the menu, I wondered what my mom would like. Jingling
bells announced the arrival of another customer. I knew a total of
four people in this town, but I still wanted to see who it was. I
glanced back at the door. The dim evening light shadowed the three
young men pushing each other through the door. I grinned. Speaking
of people I knew…

“Tanner,” the woman behind the counter
said with relief, “thanks for coming down. I can’t get this dang
thing to spin right. Every time I take the blade out to wash it, I
can’t get it to go back in right. This machine drives me nuts.” She
looked thoroughly embarrassed discussing the malfunction in front
of a customer. “Sorry for the delay.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I replied.
“Hey, Tanner.”

“Hey, Arra. What are you up to?” he
asked as he climbed up the step ladder to see the inside of the ice
cream maker better.

“Arra,” the woman said, glancing at
Tanner. “Arrabella Malo, the new doctor’s daughter?”

“That would be me.”

“She prefers Arra, Mom, not Arrabella,”
Tanner said as he yanked on the blade.

“How nice to meet you, Arra,” she said
extending her hand. A quick smile flashed in Tanner’s direction.
“Tanner told me about meeting you yesterday. I was hoping I’d run
into you soon.”

Tanner sighed and rolled his eyes.
“Arra, this is my mom, Cheryl. Mom, this is Arra.” Metal grinding
against metal turned Cheryl’s attention back to the ice cream
machine.

“For goodness sake, Tanner, don’t break
the damn thing.”

“It’s fine, Mom.” Tanner turned the
machine on with a satisfied smile. Cheryl smirked at his success.
Stepping down from the ladder, Tanner turned his attention back to
me. “So, uh, you want some ice cream?”

“That was the plan,” I said. “Are you
going to get it for me?” I bit back a laugh as he made his way
behind the counter.

“What would you like?” Tanner asked.
The counters had obviously been built to match his mother’s shorter
height. Tanner looked a little out of place, having to bend
significantly to dig the ice cream out of the tubs.

“I’ll have a mocha cone,” Evan
interrupted.

Jackson glanced at Arra. He looked
partially apologetic for his friend’s rude behavior, but equally
hungry. I waved him on. “Cookies and cream for me,” Jackson
said.

Tanner hurriedly scooped out the ice
cream and handed them over the sneeze guard. “Now, beat it.” His
two friends laughed mockingly, but headed to a table by the window.
“Sorry,” he said.

“Don’t worry about it. What should I
get?”

“Um, what do you like?” he
asked.

“Well, I like chocolate, and my mom
likes anything with raspberries in it,” I said.

Without answering Tanner went to work.
He worked the scoop into an almost black tub labeled Brownie
Bonanza. The ice cream sat rather lopsided on the cone when he was
done with it. He pressed it down into the cone, trying to keep it
from falling off. “I was never very good at this,” Tanner
admitted.