Fatal Contingencies (Book 2, the Fatal Trilogy Series)

Chapter 4.

Sometimes you just find yourself plopped right into a situation you never foresaw coming about. Like when your hairdresser just decides to cut in choppy layers without asking you, but then once you have them, you realize you look like a spunky rock goddess and love it.

Or when you go through a drive-through ordering one thing but when you get your food back home you find some crazy green stuff instead of the cheese fries you thought you were having and you eat it anyway trying to be agreeable only to be violently sick all night long.

You might go into something thinking you'll have one outcome, and then come out with something entirely different.

Sometimes those revelations are good, sometimes not.

I'm still waiting to see if this familiar-looking woman staring back at me expectantly is going to be like rock goddess layers or green mystery goop.

"Do you remember me at all, dear?" she asks, her deep blue eyes wet with emotion I don't understand.

Do I remember her?

I recognize her name, and her house, and maybe even her face, but do I actually know her?

My brain scans over all those foggy times before I started bouncing around into other foster homes, while my mouth just hangs open like a fly trap with no words coming out.

I do remember a few things....

I faintly remember seeing her face over me while I was being tucked in. I faintly remember something about baking and the smell of flour, and singing....and I remember crying. I know I cried when I left this place with a social worker. That's what I remember most. That I didn't want to leave.

"Do you want to come inside?" she asks, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes creasing as she smiles reassuringly.

"I'm..." I look back to the curb where the cab still waits, the driver looking annoyed. "I was leaving."

She nods, but insists. "I promise I won't take much of your time," she says. "I have to give you something."

Intrigued, but also a bit wary, I stall on the sidewalk for a moment before I finally turn and pay the driver who peels away with squealing tires. "Only for a minute," I agree and she smiles so big her eyes almost sparkle. "Let me help you with that." I step forward and take one of the large paper sacks from her and she thanks me as she leads the way up the driveway to the front door and fishes out her keys.

As the lock slides her eyes come back to mine and she looks me over once with a grin and watery eyes. "My god, you sure have grown into a beautiful young woman," she tells me as she pushes the door open and I follow her inside.

All. So. Familiar.

The dark wood stairs in front of the door, the tan leather couch with the quilt hanging over the back, the painting in the hall of the harbor, and even the lazy little Pomerania that comes wagging his tail to me are all so familiar. Like walking into a dream or something.

"Hi." I lean down to pet the top of his fuzzy black head and he yips and spins under my hand, licking at my fingers.

"He remembers you too," Cathy says, grinning from the hall that I remember leads into the kitchen.

I follow her in, settling the bag on the counter and then turning around to face her again.

"I lived here for a while," I say and she nods as she puts down her own bag and leans back against the counter, hands clasped in front of her.

"You did," she tells me, chewing her bottom lip as I stand awkwardly, ramrod straight and unsure of what to do. "From the time you were a month old until you were just a few weeks shy of your fourth birthday." She looks down at the ground for a moment, clearing her throat before she looks back up, tucking her light blonde hair behind her ears. "Do you remember what happened?"