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A gentle rocking woke me.
“Good morning, sweetheart.”
“Mom!” I shouted, suddenly fully awake. I wrapped my arms around her and she laughed. “You’re home?”
“Well, I’m not at the clinic…” she answered.
I rolled my eyes. Her sarcasm had been a constant source of annoyance in the time before the attack, but it was clear to me now that I had since come to miss it.
“When did you get here?”
“About an hour ago.” She sighed. “Your grandmother’s gone ahead and moved up my birthday party, despite my telling her that I absolutely did not want any kind of celebration in my honor.” I released her so that she could see me stick out my tongue. She grinned and continued. “Dr. Roberts is supposed to be getting honored as well. After that, Genevieve is flying him out to Marseilles to learn his techniques.”
I felt a pang of guilt inside me. Keeping my secret meant that he would have to keep lying, probably for the rest of his life.
“When is the party?” I asked.
“Tomorrow night,” she said shaking her head.
“That soon?”
“Your grandmother’s never been one to turn down an opportunity to party. You should hear the stories of when she was your age.”
I laughed. “That, I would pay to hear.”
She smiled a bit more before turning serious. “Do you really like it here?” she asked. I nodded. “Then you must hate me for keeping you from the life you would have had here. Maybe we could have kept your secret—Lexy did, albeit narrowly at times. I know you would have never wanted for anything if we hadn’t left.”
“Mom, I already told you that I understand why you did it. Besides, I’d much rather talk about your party!”
She groaned. “I would, but you’ve got classes to get ready for. Your grandmother told me how you fought to be in school. I’m proud of you, Alek—I mean Ana.” She laughed. “Being in this room, with how much you favor my sister, it’s got me saying the wrong name.”
That slip-up sent my mind spinning. “Did my grandmother tell you anything else about me?”
“Just that you do seem to be happy here and that she’s thankful to be getting the chance to know you. Is there anything else I should know?”
“Oh, no,” I answered quickly. “I guess not.”
She stood up. “Then go on and get ready for school.” She looked around. “This room really does bring back… memories.”
She had never called me Aleksandra before, and why did she look back to me, when she said “memories?” I wanted so badly to ask her if she knew about me, about Tristan, our past.
I went for it. “Tristan,” I blurted as she neared the door.
She looked confused. “What was that?”
“I said…Tristan.”
She stared at me for a moment. “Should that name mean something to me?”
“No, I guess not.”
She shrugged as she turned into the hallway. “Guess you just like the name…or love it.”