You were his mission. Sophia and Thomas didn’t seem put out or disappointed in spending the past hundred years guarding a frozen body. It had been important to them. Now I just had to try to not screw it up.
Finishing my meal I pushed my chair from the table and stood up, brushing off a few crumbs from my jeans.
Sophia stood as well, “I’ll see you soon,” she said, before sweeping out of the room, leaving her plate for the staff to clean up.
Thomas crumpled his napkin and placed it on the plate in front of him before lifting his and his mother’s plate and following Sophia from the room. “Good luck,” he called, his voice floating across the room as he disappeared behind the door.
I blew out a breath, “Do you think anyone would notice if I ran away?”
Cooper smiled. “Maybe he can help with your memories?”
Always the optimist.
“Let’s go then,” I said and pushed away from the table.
***
My father’s study was on the opposite wing from where I’d been acclimating to my body. I bet Father had something to do with the separation. Each step toward the room widened the pit in my stomach and I had to break the silence. “Have you ever met my father?”
“No,” Cooper admitted. “Other than immediate family, the Prognatum don’t reveal themselves to others until they are transformed. But even after Ally transformed, he hasn’t been eager to meet with her.”
At least I wasn’t the only one. Although after the situation that David put his daughter in, I was sure that Father wouldn’t want to meet her. Just like he didn’t want to see me after what I’d done. “You didn’t see him in the After?”
Cooper hesitated, his eyes not meeting mine. “He took the majority of his cases out of the area. To keep his distance from Ally.”
And me.
Cooper opened his mouth to say something but I put up a hand. “I killed his daughter. Both of them actually. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why he was avoiding me.”
We arrived at the door to my father’s study before Cooper could give me any more excuses for my father’s absence. It wasn’t Cooper’s responsibility to defend him, Father could do that on his own. Although he rarely apologized for anything. That was a fact I knew without needing my memories.
“It will be fine.” Cooper said, touching my shoulder in support.
His serious expression mixed with my anxiety had created an unexpected sensation inside of me. I laughed uncomfortably and pushed the door to the study open. I barely got a chance to take in the richly decorated room before I saw him. My father stood in front of the fireplace, his proper posture marred by one of his legs kicked out to the side. He wore a tailored black suit, his hands tucked into the pants pockets. A thick brown beard covered his mouth, but I knew he wasn’t smiling. I felt as if I were six years old again being scolded for getting my dress dirty before dinner, but this time the reason was much worse.
“You still don’t take anything seriously do you?” His voice was gruff, hard and sparked something inside of me.
Before I could open my mouth to answer, my body temperature spiked and I lurched forward, the floor rising up to meet me.
***
I waded through the darkness as the memories of our relationship slowly filled the gaps in my mind. Snippets of my birth mother’s funeral broke through the barrier of my locked memories. A red-headed girl clung to her mother’s leg as the woman spoke in hushed tones to my father. My father had touched the lady’s arm in a way that made me want to turn away. Instead I’d focused on the girl. She was terribly shy. The disdain I felt for the woman turned to something light and airy in my stomach as I assessed her daughter. The girl locked eyes with me and I reached out a hand to her. Her eyes widened and her mouth popped open and she ran to me as if she needed another body touching hers to survive. Taking her hand I had pulled her from the room.
The memory swirled around me in a mist of colors. The rest filled in around it. I saw my father’s wedding to Gemma’s mother. Even though she was the lady of the house, I took more responsibility over Gemma than she ever did. And the estate for that matter. I recounted how close my father and I had been as if we shared a secret that I had not yet learned. I watched myself grow up as if it were all being shown on a movie screen; every moment my father and I had shared. As I grew up the arguments between us became more frequent as my personality shaped, but there was always that deeper connection between us, as much as we fought, we became closer. We had similar personalities and ideas, which made it unbearable to be around him at times, but I loved him dearly. Those images scattered before my eyes as they moved past to blurry memories of the day-to-day. I knew my purpose was to find a husband and raise a family but even from an early age it wasn’t something I had passion for. I always wanted more. An idea that he never squashed, instead he encouraged me to gain knowledge of the world around me, as if he, too, were waiting for something. As each birthday passed, father allowed me more and more freedom, unlike Gemma who he kept under a stricter hand. With each passing year, the gaps in my memory widened. Father had become distracted and cold toward me, focusing instead on Gemma. Just as I peered deeper into my memories, I hit a mental block, quickly moving onto the next somewhat clear memory. Nearing my sixteenth year, a dark cloud started to take shape around the periphery of my vision. I tried to push it away but it thickened significantly, once again obscuring almost all of my memories.
I pushed further into my mind, reaching for whatever information I could. I needed to understand why my father had pulled away from me when I’d needed him most.
Jackson. The thought of him broke through the barrier and I fell into a memory, almost as vivid as the night of my death.
“Margaret! Open the door.” Father’s muffled voice carried through the solid wood that separated us. The fire in the hearth crackled, startling me. I blinked, my skin taut from the dried tears that caked my cheeks.
I forced myself to roll over. Everything had become more difficult as my pregnancy had progressed. Even simple tasks like rolling over in bed had me nearly sweating with the effort. I scanned the room. I knew Jackson was there, but he hadn’t become corporeal since Father told him to break it off with me.
The most important men in my life had broken my heart into a thousand pieces and replaced it with a hole as black as the night sky. Sliding a hand over my belly I closed my eyes. Even though this baby was half Tristan’s, it would be more than half of me. It would grow to become a special part of the After.
“Margaret,” Father called again.
“It’s open,” I snapped.
The door swung open and I glanced over at Father, his mouth turned downward. He crossed his arms over his chest.
“I suppose you want me to come down for dinner?”
“It would be nice for you to share a meal with your family at least once this week.”
I had ordered all of my meals to be taken in my room for the past few days. I couldn’t face Tristan or Gemma. Even though Tristan and I did share a bed at night, he only came to me in the late hours of the night; presumably after seeing my sister. The sight of either of them made me sick to my stomach.
“Why bother? I’ll be transformed soon enough and leave all of them behind.”
“Your child needs a father,” Father said.
“Jackson can be the father.”
Father narrowed his eyes. “That’s not how this works.”
I