The Recluse Heir by Monique Moreau

24

Tatum’s cryptic comment pricked up the hairs on the back of my neck. My brain was like a flood breaking through a dam. First, Cat’s betrayal. Now this. Whatever “this” was remained to be seen, but I already had an ugly premonition. It was about my father, so it couldn’t be good. The last secret surprise about him ended with a new pair of half siblings.

I burst out of my apartment like a madman, tore through the streets in my car, and double-parked in front of our family home in Queens. Taking the steps three at a time, I powered through the house, searching for my mother. I found her in the backyard, gardening.

One look at my face and Mama gently put down her watering can, eyes wide.

“What the fuck, Mama? Tatum said you’ve been holding out on me about a secret. What is it?”

Bursting into tears, she covered her face as she made her way to the nearest stone bench. Sitting down heavily, she patted the seat beside her.

“I always knew this day would come,” she confessed, pulling her hands away. “I thought I would be ready for it, but I’m not. I’ve been so scared, Luca. So scared for many years.”

I took the seat she offered and grabbed her hands.

“Whatever it is, just know that I love you no matter what. You will always be my mother,” I insisted. I meant it. I might not be a mama’s boy like Nicu, but Mama and I had a special bond. Unbreakable. She worshipped my father, but she loved me. It was one of the reasons I strove so hard to hide his abuse.

She pulled away from me, hurried into the house, and came back minutes later with a small photo in her hand. Returning to her seat, she placed it face down on the bench and took my hands again.

“It’s quite a story,” she started with a nervous chuckle. “You know of my sister, Clara, no?”

I frowned. “The one who died?”

“Yes, the one who died.” She gave me an odd look, picked up the photo, and handed it to me. “The one who had six children.”

I grabbed it and looked down briefly. Recognition jolted through me as I asked, “Six? I have five cousins on your side of the family.”

I had a sinking feeling in my stomach.

“Six,” she repeated firmly, squeezing my hands tighter. “She died giving birth to her last one. A beautiful son with blond hair and gray eyes, just like her. Your father and I had trouble conceiving. This was before we considered IVF, which is how we had the twins. The moment I saw you, I knew I was staring into the eyes of my son. You may have looked exactly like my beloved sister, but you were mine. All mine.”

Blond hair. Gray eyes.

My birth mother.

I’d never seen a photo of her dead sister. There weren’t any on the mantle of the fireplace in the living room, the bookshelves of the family room, or the myriad walls layered with framed photos scattered throughout the house. I had heard about the death of Mama’s sister, but not that she’d died giving birth to me. This new discovery sifted through my soul. It felt strange. More than that, I didn’t know how I felt about it.

“Why?” I whispered out.

“You uncle was overwhelmed and in deep mourning. Like I told you, your father and I had been trying to have another child without any success. I had gone to Romania to help my sister toward the end of her pregnancy. I was in the delivery room while your uncle stayed home to tend to the children. Later, she got an infection. As she fought for her life, I held you. I couldn’t seem to put you down, not even to place you in your crib in the hospital. When she didn’t make it, I spoke to your uncle and he agreed to my suggestion. I took you home, and I’ve never let you go since.”

“Do you not have any photos of her because you didn’t want to be reminded that I wasn’t yours?” I asked bitterly.

“You are mine,” she replied viciously. I was taken aback by her tone. Mama was normally soft-spoken. She had a spine of steel, but rarely showed it. Before my father’s death, she followed every one of his commands. Or so I thought. Clearly, in this matter, she’d unilaterally gotten her way because he would’ve never claimed another man’s child as his own. Whatever she did or did not know about the way he’d treated me, I never doubted that she loved me. It was written on her face, and I was humbled by it, by the fierceness of her love for me.

“I loved you from the moment I set eyes on you. Not only because you reminded me of my sister, but because we were meant for each other. Do you have any idea what it’s like to meet your destiny? Because that’s what it was like when I saw you. I was meant to be your mother. I hid her photos but only because I didn’t want to confuse you. I didn’t want anyone to question the unquestionable. People can be silly and…petty. You deserved better than that. It wasn’t for my benefit; you are undoubtedly mine. You simply came from the womb of my sister, a woman I loved and grieved deeply. It’s an honor to be your mother, Luca.”

“That’s why he treated me the way he did,” I stated. Those years I suffered, believing there was something wrong with me. He resented me because I wasn’t his. My father was a prideful man, and I assumed that he would’ve viewed his inability to have more children as a failure. As the Lupul, he wouldn’t be able to tolerate such blatant weakness, especially with respect to his manhood. I reminded him of this, time and time again.

Needing a confirmation, I asked, “Was he unable to have children?”

“Yes, that’s right. Alex was a one-off. Every other child, the twins, Sebastian and Emma from that other woman, came with IVF. Part of the reason he went with that hippie American was that he thought she was particularly fertile. In the end, she had to use artificial means. It was his greatest shame, which is why I forgave him his indiscretion,” she verified.

My head spun, almost like I was having an out-of-body experience. Everything had an eerily crisp clarity to it. The slight breeze that brushed against the hot skin of my cheeks. The spicy sweet perfume of the white jasmine blossoms along the fence near us. The hard roughness of the stone bench beneath my hands. My mother’s labored breaths beside me.

Did she know what he had done to me? How he had punished me because I wasn’t a product of his loins. Our society could be so narrow-minded. Defective loins for a Lupul was an intolerable flaw. Basically, any time he felt a prick of self-disgust, he took it out on me. It certainly put my childhood in perspective. It was the answer to a question that I had been subconsciously searching for my entire life. Why only me? Why not any of my brothers?

It was hard wrapping my head around the fact that the man I thought of as an uncle was my biological father. My cousins were my siblings and my siblings were really my cousins. No. That wasn’t right. I may have fought with Alex and Nicu relentlessly, but nothing could undo the bond we had.

A tumult of emotions tumbled through me, shame and anger and relief vying for dominance. I didn’t know if this new truth would change anything. I knew what it didn’t change. It didn’t change my past. It didn’t change what I felt for Alex and the twins. I already knew that it would change nothing for Alex. We’d survived attempts on our lives together. We’d hunted and killed together. For Nicu and Tasa, I didn’t think it would make a difference, either. Nor for the Lupu clan. I’d proven my loyalty and worth too many times to count.

Still…unease clawed at my throat. Cat had ripped my heart into shreds with her betrayal. Now, here was another lie. Both upended my life. Feeling dizzy, I brought a shaky hand to my forehead. My chest caved in like I’d been body dropped to the ground.

Tearing off my jacket, I yanked my tie off and unbuttoned my collar. I crushed the photo in my palm and said, “I have to go. I have to think, and I can’t do that here.”

Hands wringing together, she rose to her feet. Her worried eyes were glued to me.

“I know this is difficult for you, but please don’t do anything foolish,” she urged.

I kissed her cheek to ease her fears.

“I won’t, Mama, but I need space,” I reiterated and turned to go.

Discarding my jacket, tie, and phone on the ornate sofa of the living room, I stalked out the front door of my childhood home.

* * *

I walkedthe streets of Queens, heading north into Astoria. I roamed blindly for hours, long after the sun had set. I didn’t realize where I was until I found myself staring at the back fence of Cat’s home. I flattened myself against the brick wall of the house across the alleyway, hidden in the shadows of the balcony above me. Honestly, I didn’t know how I ended up here. It was the last place I would’ve consciously chosen, but Mama’s revelation had left me unhinged.

I could say that I didn’t know why I remained, spying on her house, except that I did. Anger gnawed at my heart, but also a yawning ache that I couldn’t shake off. As if attached to her by an invisible tether, our bond strengthened each moment I was rooted to the ground.

Under the balcony I stayed, watching as the lights went off one by one, except for the basement, where Nelu had his office.

Making my decision, I slipped away and retraced my steps to a drugstore I’d passed down the street. I bought petroleum jelly and a baseball cap to hide my face. Back at her house, I surveyed the area. Nelu had a few cameras installed around the periphery of his property. That’s it? The man probably thought no one would dare attack his home. I knew for a fact that every member of the family was handy with guns. Even Cat. If there were a breach, the intruder probably wouldn’t get very far before getting shot. One could only hope. It still left me uneasy about her safety.

Grabbing hold of a branch from a large chestnut tree, I jumped over the fence with little effort. Face hidden, I hugged the fence and cut between the trees of the narrow backyard. Advancing on the camera, I smeared jelly around the entire lens. Any image coming into their feed would be blurry. I took care of the other cameras before circling around until I was below her bedroom.

Gripping the rough stones protruding from the wall, I scaled the side of the townhouse and tried her window. Not only was it unlocked, but the thing was open. The fuck is she thinking… In fact, both windows were open to the balmy summer air, curtains fluttering from the breeze. Jesus. Did she have a death wish or something? Her parents were unbelievably irresponsible. Sheer luck and the fact that they had such a good girl were the only things that had saved her from some god-awful misfortune.

I stepped in through the window and remained still as I gauged whether she took notice of my presence. Turned away from the window, Cat’s sleeping form didn’t shift in the least. I took a look around.

Her room was…unexpected. I didn’t know how I thought an eighteen-year-old girl would decorate her room, but it wasn’t this. Among the heavy, dark wood furniture were bookshelves stuffed to the gills with books. There were books and discarded clothing covering almost every surface of her messy room.

I squinted at one of the posters on her wall, reading a quote by Susan Sontag in the dusky moonlight sifting through the window. Attention is vitality. It connects you with others. It makes you eager. Stay eager. Something about that tugged at my heart. There were two other posters, with quotes from Nietzsche and the feminist trailblazer, bell hooks. Sure, I knew she was taking a class on anthropology, but I wasn’t aware the extent to which my little fiancée was an academic.

Fierce pride seared in my heart. After perusing her eclectic collection of books, with topics ranging from Chicago Theory of Economics and philosophy to Anaïs Nin erotica, I snooped through her large ornate secretary desk. I figured it was only fair since she’d done the same to me. Two drawers were filled with journals. I pulled out the top one and flipped it open. Scrawling cursive covered the pages without break. From the ink smudges, it looked like she’d used a fountain pen.

I scanned over the last few pages and snapped it shut. Christ, she was ripping herself to shreds over what happened. Turned out Cristo’s life was on the line. I hadn’t been sure whether to believe her when she’d said that his life was at risk. People will say anything under duress. Okay, she was speaking the truth, but still, she should’ve come directly to me instead of sneaking behind my back. She didn’t think I’d help her brother, which wasn’t an unreasonable assumption. I would have, but I didn’t blame her for not trusting me with that. I wouldn’t have automatically trusted someone like me if a beloved sibling was on the line. Cat was different, but she didn’t know that. I closed my eyes, shaking my head. I was weakening.

A little keening sound came from the bed. My gaze shot over to her sleeping form. Her beautiful face, so young, was pinched in pain. I had the insane urge to caress her creased brow and scrunched nose until they smoothed back into peaceful slumber. Today’s events had triggered her nightmares, and that thought did not settle well with me.

My resolve was cracking, and I shored it up by telling myself that betrayal and lies dogged me everywhere I turned today. But in the overall scheme of things, there were greater betrayals than trying to find something in my office to save one’s only brother. In the end, it didn’t matter, because even if I could forgive her, I had to resist Alex’s demands. But was that a good enough reason? The idea of fighting Alex for the sake of fighting abruptly lost its appeal.

Suddenly exhausted, I dropped into the oversize velvet armchair across from her bed. Sinking into the cozy down-filled chair, I realized that it didn’t fit with the rest of the room. This must be where she spent most of her time, reading her precious books. I took off my baseball cap and placed it beside a half-empty glass of red wine and an open book lying face-down on a small round table. I peered at the title. Romance? I grinned as I read the back cover. My little academic was also a filthy little girl.

My eyes were drawn back to her. A pang of longing rippled through me.

Shaking it off, I tilted my head back and closed my eyes; my nostrils flared. I caught fainttraces of nectarines and peaches, with those beguiling accents of fresh, green notes. I glanced down at my lap. Fucking fantastic. I was hard knowing her sweet, pliant body was lying underneath a sheet a mere foot or two away from me.

Cat shifted in her sleep, turning onto her back. Her arm flung out. Her foot kicked out and drew the sheet covering her halfway down her torso. Ironically, she was wearing a virginal white nightie. Her high tits pushed up against the thin material, her nipples beaded tight. My mouth salivated as I imaged those ripe raspberry nipples between my lips. The light from the streetlamp outside her window cast a hallowed glow over her face. Her pursed lips popped open, and she let out a poignant moan of pain.

Her nightmare was here, present. It had barely started, and already I couldn’t stand it. Moving to her bed, I sat on the edge and bent over, murmuring in her ear, “Kitty, wake up.”

She moaned, turning toward me like a creature seeking comfort. I urged her to wake up. Beautiful, sweetness, and other endearments effortlessly fell from my lips. She needed comfort, and so did I. I shouldn’t have allowed this indulgence, but after my mother’s revelation, here I was.

Eventually, her long eyelashes fluttered open. Half asleep, she moved toward me, hand reaching out. Her fingers tangled with the hair on my nape, urging my head down. I let her drag me down until our lips touched. Her tongue ventured out and swiped once, twice. Her grip tightened, urging me on. Our mouths crashed into each other. Her peach fragrance wrapped around me like a cloud of everything that was good and clean in this world. A lie, I knew, but I didn’t care. Plunging deeper, I took her mouth harder.

She jerked. Tearing away from me, her breaths came out hard and fast. She rasped out, “W-what is— What are you doing here?”

Ah, now she was fully awake.