“No, driving while under the influence.”
“What happened to the sisters?”
“According to Cynthia, they went into the foster care system and” —Madeline smiled— “it worked for them. They ended up with great foster parents. Their mother had told them not to tell anyone, so they didn’t. At first, they kept expecting it to happen because they thought it was normal, but it never did. And with time, Cynthia said, she’d buried it. Even when with her sister, they never mentioned it, and any memories went away.”
Placing the dough back in the bowl, I set it on the counter and covered it with a towel. “So what brought it back?” I looked up. “Sex?”
Madeline shook her head. “No. She had the memories so repressed that it didn’t affect her sex life. It happened when she found out she was pregnant with a girl. She started having nightmares and then flashbacks, but she didn’t know what was happening. It was after her daughter was born that more details came back to her. She called her sister. Her sister flat-out denied it ever happened.”
“And what helped her?”
“Thank goodness, she found the institute. She knew something wasn’t right, and she worried about her daughter. Her doctor recommended counseling. Her counselor listened and sent her to the institute.” Madeline forced a smile. “The Araneae we know here is carefree and fun. In reality, she’s really quite the businesswoman.”
“She was before she met Sparrow...with Sinful Threads.”
Madeline nodded. “I never thought she learned that from him.”
I chuckled. “I would imagine his tutoring has been more personal.”
“Or” —Madeline tilted her head with a grin— “maybe she tutored him?”
The banter brought a welcome lightness to our conversation, reminding me of the camaraderie we all shared, one that came over time and with familiarity and even through times of darkness.
After all, how would the sun break free each morning if it hadn’t been reined in the night before? To continue the metaphor: When all was said and done, the love we all shared made me believe that light would eventually win. Dawn would shine from beneath the horizon and cover our world in golden rays of sunlight if we waited long enough.
“Anyway,” Madeline continued, “Araneae understands delegation. She also has a well-defined mission statement focused on helping anyone and everyone she can reach. With that drive, she’s created an amazing center.” Madeline shrugged. “I suppose being filthy rich didn’t hurt.”
No one in the tower was financially strapped, but it was true that Araneae came into a large sum of money that she never expected, nor had Sparrow.
“What about Cynthia’s sister?” I asked as I washed the dough from my hands.
Madeline shook her head. “She won’t speak to her sister, swears she’s lying.”
“Then how do you know she isn’t? Maybe what she thinks happened and are memories are really bits and pieces of stories or movies that she’s seen and she mixed up.”
“Or she is telling the truth.”
“You think she is, don’t you?”
Madeline nodded. “I think that more people are affected in some way by the depravity in this world than any of us want to admit. I’ve seen Cynthia with her daughter. I’ve seen her with her wife. Cynthia has come to terms with what happened, understanding that she was not responsible. If you asked Laurel, she’d talk about the maturity of brains.”
“Of course she would.”
“Children can’t be held responsible for the choices of others. I know Ruby thinks she’s grown up, but she’s still a teenager. Cynthia was younger than that. Not only wasn’t she old enough to consent, she didn’t understand what she was even doing.”
“That makes sense,” I said.
“She didn’t ask for that to happen to her, and she was not in a position to defend herself, but today, after facing her demons, she can defend and protect her daughter.”
“You’re saying if I met Cynthia or others from the institute at a dinner party or a picnic, I would never know they’d been victims?”
“We don’t wear neon signs. I think for me, once I came to terms with the memories of what had been done and what I’d done to survive, I had to also accept that the responsibility for what happened to me isn’t mine to bear. I am no longer a victim, but there’s no shame in admitting that I was. That admission gives me the courage and strength to vow to never let that happen again.”
“And Araneae’s center is helping others too.”
“It is. She has the funds, the will, and the passion, and she’s taken all of that to get the right people.” Madeline walked closer. “Now, let’s work on the fillings.”
I reached for her hand. “Thank you.”
Her sparkling green eyes met mine. “Like Ruby said, if the dam breaks and you remember anything, swim like hell and reach for a life raft. Reid, Laurel, me, or once we’re out of here, consider the institute.”
“I know I wasn’t raped.”
“It’s still okay to reach out.” She squeezed my hand. “I’ve been thinking about it. I can’t imagine how I would have handled it if they’d taken me, not after what I’ve been through.”
Tears came to my eyes. “I’m so sorry that happened to you.”
“I know without a doubt, being here with Patrick, Ruby, and soon” —she grinned— “this little one, here is where I belong. I may have walked through the fires of hell to get here, but if that’s what it took, I’d do it again. You know what they say—it’s darkest before the dawn. We can’t give up.”
“Hey, what are you—”
We both turned as Araneae entered the kitchen, her eyes open wide. She was all dressed for business from the waist up—hair, makeup, blouse, and jewelry. Comically, it didn’t match her soft maternity leggings and sock-covered feet. I supposed it was a perk of working remotely. She could stay comfortable while appearing put together for virtual calls.
With her mouth agape, she came closer. “Fuck, Lorna, what did you do?”
I looked at Madeline, smiled, and turned back to Araneae. “I guess you mean my hair.”
“I heard Aunt Araneae say—” Ruby said, entering from the same archway Araneae had come through. She stilled at the threshold to the kitchen. “Shit. Lorna.”
“Ruby Cynthia,” Madeline scolded.
Before I could explain again why I was now a brunette with a shoulder-length bob, my phone buzzed. Pulling it from the back pocket of my jeans, I said, “I hope that’s Reid.”
The screen read Mason.
A bit disappointed, I swiped the screen.
“PLEASE COME TO YOUR APARTMENT.”
I looked up at three sets of eyes.
“Is everything okay?” Madeline asked. “I haven’t heard from Patrick either.”
Araneae shrugged. “I haven’t heard from Sterling, but that’s not unusual.”
“It’s Mason. I hope everything is all right,” I said. “Madeline, can you do the fillings by yourself? He wants me downstairs.”