Most Precious Blood (7 page)

“From an agency,” Caroline said. “My parents showed me all the paperwork. I don't know anything about my mother, my natural mother I mean, except her family medical history, which looked pretty boring to me. I guess I'll care more about that when I have babies.”

“Do you want to know?” Val asked.

“Sometimes,” Caroline said. “But not as much as you might think. I haven't even thought about her in a year or so. Things have been going so well in my life. My mother turned out to be okay, once I stopped being twelve. I'm glad I was adopted through an agency though. I like the fact that it was a traditional adoption, nothing gray market about it.”

“Gray market,” Val said. “What's that?”

“You know,” Caroline said. “Not done through an agency. Lawyers handle it instead, or doctors. Or a couple puts an ad in the paper and hopes some pregnant woman will see it and contact them. Lots of adoptions are done that way nowadays. But you know my father, old straight-and-narrow. My parents waited five years before the agency came through with me. Five years. But they didn't have to worry that maybe it wasn't completely legal or the mother might change her mind the minute she gave birth. And I like the fact my natural mother went through an agency too. It makes me feel respectable, like my parents.”

“Five years is a long time to wait,” Val said. “I guess your mother must have known about it. The adoption I mean.”

Caroline gave her a funny look. “Of course she did. Mothers always know. You think fathers just bring babies home and hand them over? It never works that way.”

Val nodded. “I guess I wasn't thinking,” she said. “This whole business has been real upsetting. Just being this angry at Michelle is upsetting. And I've never really thought about adoption before.”

Caroline looked away from Val, then turned back to face her. “You might as well know what they're saying,” she declared. “You'll hear it anyway, and I don't think Kit will tell you.”

“What?” Val asked. “What are they saying?” What could be left to say?

“I'm sure it isn't true,” Caroline said. “Michelle certainly hasn't said it. It's just a rumor. You know how rumors are. Maybe I shouldn't even tell you.”

“You began already, so finish,” Val said.

Caroline nodded. “They're saying, well, because of who your father is, they're saying maybe you weren't adopted,” she replied. “Not the way I was, I mean. They're saying maybe your parents were so desperate for a baby, they did something illegal to get one.”

“Illegal?” Val asked.

“Kidnapping,” Caroline said. “Maybe they kidnapped a baby. Or even killed someone to get one. I'm sure they're wrong. I mean, how could they know, unless Michelle said something, and she didn't. Or maybe Kit, and she certainly didn't. It's just gossip because of your father's reputation.”

“What reputation?” Val asked, even though she knew the answer.

“That he's connected,” Caroline said. “With the mob. Well, you know.”

Val nodded. In a life filled with things she wasn't supposed to know, that was the one thing she did.

Caroline got up. “I'm sorry,” she said. “I've probably handled all this really badly. The other girls, they just thought we should talk, because I'm adopted, and now I guess you are too. And I'm sure when you talk to your father, you'll find out everything is okay. That you were adopted from an agency, the same as me, I mean. I don't think you were kidnapped. I probably never should have even mentioned it.”

“No,” Val said. “You probably shouldn't have.”

Caroline gave Val a look so strange it took her a moment to realize it was fear. “Forget I said anything, all right,” she whispered. “I didn't mean it.”

Val nodded. She watched as Caroline ran back to her safe circle of friends, the girls who never invited Val to their parties. Then she looked down at the half-eaten remains of her lunch, and willed herself to ignore the horror that was growing like a tumor inside her.

Chapter 5

Kit kept her distance from Val the rest of the school day, but Val didn't mind. When the final bell rang, Val walked over to her and said, “I want to go to your house.”

“That's not such a good idea,” Kit replied, looking down at her desk.

Val was aware that everyone in the classroom, including Sister Gina Marie, was staring at her. “Please,” she whispered. “I can't go home.”

Kit looked up. “All right,” she said. She followed Val out of the room and to their lockers. Val noticed Michelle standing by hers, looking ill at ease. She wished worse than that for Michelle. She wished her half the pain she was currently feeling.

She and Kit walked out of the school silently, and found Bruno waiting for them. “I'm going to Kit's,” Val told him.

“Fine,” Bruno said. “Hop in, girls.”

So they did. Kit stared out the window. Val asked Bruno how his day had been.

“Average,” Bruno replied, which was the best Val could hope for. An average day meant he hadn't spent it worrying about her. And that meant another day before she would have to confront her father. Or was he her kidnapper?

Bruno dropped them off in front of the Farrell house. He never drove off until he was sure Val was safely inside. This time was no exception.

“There's a guy out there,” he said, pointing toward Kit's front door. “Want me to check him out?”

“It's all right,” Kit said. “Just my cousin. Thanks anyway, Bruno.”

“I'll wait around,” Bruno said. “Just to be on the safe side.”

Val got out of the car. She felt past the point of needing protection. “Your cousin?” she asked Kit.

“My cousin,” Kit replied. “I invited him over this morning. I didn't know you'd be coming over.”

Val felt hurt, even though she knew it was irrational. Somehow she felt Kit should have known she would need her. “Why did you ask him?” she said. “I didn't know you were that close to any of your cousins.”

“Hi, Malcolm!” Kit shouted at him. Val could see he was young, maybe a year or two older than they were. He had a preppy look to him. She remembered Kit referring to a cousin who was going to college nearby. The Farrells had had him over for dinner a couple of times.

“Hi, Kit!” he called back. That seemed to satisfy Bruno, who finally drove off. Val almost cried for him to come back and get her. She felt that Kit was cutting her off too, that the last part of her life that was secure and reliable was being lost to her.

“You're early,” Kit said to her cousin as she reached the front door. She took out her keys and unlocked it.

“My class was cancelled,” Malcolm replied. “So I figured I'd come straight over. I've only been waiting a couple of minutes.”

“This is Val,” Kit said. “Val Castaladi. Val, this is my cousin, Malcolm Scott.”

“It's nice to meet you,” Val said.

“Good meeting you,” Malcolm said. He smiled, and Val could see he was good-looking. Light brown hair, blue eyes. He didn't look anything like a Farrell, so he must come from Amanda's side of the family.

“I did a lot of work on the house last night, but I couldn't fix everything,” Kit said. “The kitchen's in okay shape, but, the more I looked, the more I saw Mother had done. And Pop didn't get in until really late last night. So the living room still has some problems. But we can sit down in it and everything. It's just I had to take down some of the paintings, so they're on the floor.” She smiled apologetically.

“It looks fine to me,” Malcolm said. “I guess Jamey'll use it as an excuse to buy some new paintings.”

“I don't know,” Kit said. “I don't think so. I don't think the insurance is going to cover the damage, since Mother did it, and the clinic she's at is real expensive.”

“Oh,” Malcolm said. “Sorry.”

“It's not the end of the world,” Kit replied. “Would either of you like something to drink?”

“Ginger ale, if you have it,” Malcolm said. He sat down on the sofa, beside a blank wall. Val remembered the painting that had hung there. It wasn't the one she'd seen slashed the day before. Amanda must really have gone mad on Sunday.

“Me too,” she said.

“Okay,” Kit said. She walked to the kitchen, then came back almost instantly. “I forgot,” she said. “Pop got home so late yesterday we didn't buy any groceries. There's a can of frozen lemonade, if you want me to make that instead.”

“Sounds good,” Malcolm said.

“I don't know how Mother missed it,” Kit called from the kitchen. “She went through the freezer. She found an ice cream carton and threw it into the broom closet. That was a mess to clean up, let me tell you.”

“I wish you'd called me,” Malcolm said. “I would have gathered up some guys from my dorm, and we could have had a scrubbing party.”

Kit brought in the pitcher of lemonade and three unmatched glasses. “Next time,” she said.

Val stared at them. She'd never seen Kit talk to anyone that way, except herself. Kit couldn't keep her mother's problems a secret, Amanda saw to that, but she didn't go around advertising them.

“It's okay,” Kit said to Val. “Malcolm's a trusty.”

Val smiled. She hadn't heard Kit use that term in years. A trusty was one of the rare people Kit found trustworthy. Val was one, and her mother had been until her death. Jamey was another, and Sister Angela, their third-grade teacher. It was a short list. Malcolm should be honored to be on it.

“I take that as a compliment,” he said, picking up one of the lemonade glasses and drinking from it.

“It is,” Val said. “Maybe Kit'll even let you scrub next time.”

“Have you heard anything from your mother?” Malcolm asked.

Kit shook her head. “Pop called the clinic yesterday, to make sure she was okay, but she isn't allowed to talk to anybody for the first few days. I'm not sure if that's for her sake or ours.”

“How's Jamey dealing with it?” Malcolm asked.

“I'm not sure,” Kit replied. “He's avoiding it, he's avoiding me. I'm sorry, Malcolm. I really didn't ask you over to unload all this on you.”

“I can deal with it,” he said. “I come from the stable side of the family, remember.” He turned, and smiled at Val. “Do you have one of those?” he asked. “A stable family?”

“Val's the one I told you about,” Kit said.

“You told him about me?” Val asked. “What exactly did you tell him?”

“Calm down,” Malcolm said. “Kit just told me you'd found out recently that you were adopted. That's all. I'm adopted, so she wanted to talk with me. Get a few pointers in the adoption game, that's all.”

“Wasn't Caroline enough for one day?” Val cried. “Do I have to talk to him too?”

“I didn't invite Caroline to our table,” Kit said. “And if you remember correctly, I didn't invite you here either. I told you it wasn't a good idea, but you insisted on coming over anyway. Remember?”

Val nodded. “I'm sorry,” she said. “If you want, I'll go.”

“Only if you want,” Kit said. “Malcolm, I hope you don't mind. Val only found out yesterday, I'm not even sure of all the details, and she had a rough time at school today.”

“I'll bet,” Malcolm said. “Have you spoken to your parents about it? Is that how you found out?”

“My mother's dead,” Val replied. “My father's out of town on business. My cousin Michelle told me yesterday at school. She was angry, and it just came out.”

“Then you can't be sure it is true,” Malcolm declared. “Maybe she lied.”

“She didn't,” Val said. “I found a letter my mother wrote me. She wanted me to read it on my eighteenth birthday. It's all about how she wanted a baby and couldn't have one, so my father brought me to her.”

“What?” Malcolm said. “That isn't how people adopt.”

“That isn't how Caroline O'Mara got adopted, that's for sure,” Val said. “Her parents waited five years before the agency found them a baby. No shortcuts for them.”

“There's nothing wrong with shortcuts,” Malcolm said. “I'm gray market myself, although my parents wouldn't appreciate the term. They wanted a baby, and my mom's doctor knew about a girl who was pregnant and didn't feel she could raise her child by herself, so my parents offered to adopt. And that's why I'm Malcolm Scott and not Joe Bloke.”

“Maybe that's what your mother meant,” Kit said. “In her letter.”

Val shook her head. “Mama didn't know anything about me,” she said. “She called me a gift. Like I was something my father went to a store and bought.”

“I don't know anything about your father,” Malcolm said. “But that's just not how adoptions work. At least not legal adoptions.”

“So how can you be sure it was legal?” Val asked. “Maybe it wasn't.”

“Jamey's your father's lawyer, right?” Malcolm said. “He wouldn't let one of his clients do anything like that, would he, Kit.”

“What exactly did Caroline say to you?” Kit asked.

“You must know,” Val said. “You must have heard it too. Where I came from was the hot topic in school today.”

“I don't understand any of this,” Malcolm said. “I can see where people would be interested to find out someone's adopted, especially if they didn't know. I never told a lot of people, and when anyone found out, I had to go through the inquisition all over again. But nobody speculated about where I came from. Not even me. At least not in public.”

Val stared at her glass of lemonade. “I hate lemonade,” she said. “Why did you bring me any?”

“Sorry,” Kit said. “I forgot.” She moved the glass away from Val.

“Castaladi,” Malcolm said. “Isn't there a crime family named Castaladi?”