Don't Say a Word - Barbara Freethy [20]
"Are you sure it will take only a few days?"
"I'm not sure about anything. I'm taking it one Step at a time. And while I know you hate it when people don't do exactly what you want, you're going to have to let me do this, Liz, because I'm not willing to stop until I get some answers."
"Have you considered the fact that you might be better off not knowing, that maybe Mom had a good reason for never telling you about your past?"
She had considered that, more than once. "That might be true, but I think the not knowing is worse."
"I hope you're right about that."
"So do I."
"Have you found anything yet?" Liz looked around at the mess Julia had made. "You've certainly been thorough. I still can't believe this is all we have left of Mom's life. It doesn't seem like much."
"I know. I keep thinking there must be more. Al-though I haven't come across any paperwork, birth certificates, that kind of thing, so maybe there is more. I remember putting a lot of boxes in Dad's spare bed-room when he moved."
Liz frowned. "I can't believe he's happier living in an apartment. He should have stayed in the house. Mom loved that house. And I'm still pissed off at him for selling it."
"The house had too many memories. He couldn't stand it."
"It's going to be strange this Christmas. No tree in the corner of the living room, no Christmas dinner around the big table. It won't be the same at Aunt Lucia's house."
"No, it won't." Julia could see how much Liz hated that thought. "But we'll still make it a good holiday. We have each other. That's what matters."
"I guess. Are you done here?"
"Almost. I have one more box to go through."
Liz kneeled down next to Julia as she opened the last large box. Instead of their mother's clothes, they found children's clothes.
"I remember this outfit," Liz said, pulling out a pink jumper. "I used to love it."
"And I used to wear this sweater all the time," Julia added, pulling out a blue sweater with embroidered flowers on the front. "I wonder why Mom kept these clothes. She was always doing spring-cleaning. I res-cued a few things from the garbage on more than one occasion."
"That's true, but these were our favorites." Liz dug farther into the pile. "I guess she had a sentimental soft Spot after all. Who knew?"
"There's a lot we don't know about her, Liz. I spent all night thinking about what I don't know about her, like where she grew up and where she spent her summer vacations. Where she went to school. Her friends, her first boyfriend. She never talked about herself. And we never asked. Why didn't we ask?"
"I guess I wasn't that interested," Liz admitted, the smile quickly disappearing from her face. "I thought we'd have more time."
"Me, too." Julia touched her sister's hand to com-fort. She was still the big sister, and she'd promised her mother she'd always watch out for Liz. "Even though we knew the diagnosis, we couldn't stop hoping. And Mom never wanted to say good-bye. She never wanted to talk about the end, even though we all knew it was coming."
"You're right. She asked me two days before she died to take her out into the garden so she could decide what to plant in the fall." Liz blinked back a tear, then reached back into the box. "I see some thing. Hey, what's this?"
She pulled out a hand-painted wooden doll about ten inches tall. The artwork on the doll was intricate and detailed. A woman's face was painted on the round head, a wreath of white flowers on her dark hair. The larger, cylinderlike body of the doll showed the woman's costume, a white dress with three feathered tiers and a floral pattern that mixed red flowers and green leaves. Along the base of the doll was a circle of swans that glistened in the lacquer finish. Julia's heart skipped a beat. The swans matched the one on her necklace. And she knew