Chapter Three-Sophia

It took a long time before I gained the courage to get up. When I did, I shifted on my feet, unsteady and confused. Tears burned my eyes, threatening to spill down my cheeks before I managed to gain control of them.

I clutched my stomach as I trembled, hating that I was unable to ignore Andre's reaction to me. After all, I didn't know him.

Why should I care? I sighed, realizing the answer. I had never been good with confrontation. I always cried, even when I was angry. I viewed it as a weakness I had never been able to control. As I sat there, shame flooded through me because I found myself weaker than ever. I was ready to give in and break down.

I swallowed hard as I stood beside my seat, trying to push away the shame and embarrassment. I was eighteen years old, but just like a child, I wanted my mother. My chin trembled. I couldn't shake the need to find her.

I walked toward the door with slow, shuffling steps, only stopping when my mother’s voice reached me. Frowning, I realized she sounded worried and angry. It was rare that I experienced those emotions coming from her. It caused my stomach to flip.

I reached forward, my hand hovering over the doorknob. Even though I had wanted my mother only a few seconds before, I didn't turn the knob to go to her.

I realized if I did, I would never find out why she seemed so upset. It had to be more than just the man from the night before.

I worried she would never tell me even if she had promised. She wouldn’t want me to worry. There was a gnawing in the pit of my stomach, telling me her worries had something to do with me. I needed to find out the truth. I leaned my ear against the door, listening.

“I don’t know what to do about any of this, Sophia,” she said, her voice breaking. I sensed she had been crying again and my heart lurched. Even through the tears, her anger burst from her. “He won’t give up. He’ll just keep coming for her until he has her. I can't allow that to happen.”

I frowned. Was she talking about the man… Emilian? Why would he come for me? I pursed my lips. That didn’t make any sense, unless… I shook my head at the thought. I did not want to believe my mother had lied to me. I leaned against the door again.

A rich and sultry voice came through next, caressing my ears. It was calming in a way I could not explain. I assumed it belonged to the woman my mother had spoken of… Sophia, Andre’s mother.

“I cannot believe you haven’t told her, Fiona,” Sophia said, disapproval clear in her voice. The rustle of leaves reached me, and I realized the woman was pacing. “Why would you spring something like this on the girl? It will only make things more difficult.”

Spring what on what girl? Me? It had to be me.

I strained to hear more but found only silence. Even the rustle of leaves had stopped. The silence stretched so long, I feared they had moved farther away from the motorhome. When my mother's sigh floated through the door, I pressed my ear close, straining to hear.

“We weren’t due back until December,” she said, her voice rising. My mother sighed again. “I thought I’d have a few months.”

Sophia’s scoff reached my ears. “That’s still a bit close, don’t you think? You should have given her time to adjust. She should have been warned about everything so she would understand.”

“It’s difficult to tell her. She’ll hate me,” my mother said. I clearly heard the tears in her voice. My heart clenched as she sobbed. I didn’t know what secrets she held and I didn’t care. I just needed her to stop crying, stop being angry, and most of all, stop being afraid.  

I reached for the handle as Sophia spoke again. “You have to tell her,” she said in a calm, gentle voice as I turned the knob. “Aurora deserves to know.”

I gripped the handle. So, the secrets did have something to do with me. My mother had kept things from me. Eventually, I would find out what they were. She would have to tell me.

I let the door swing open. My mother glanced up, and the woman she had been speaking to turned. I stared into eyes the same color as Andre’s. Shock radiated through me when I realized they belonged to a young woman who appeared only a little older than my mother. I frowned, wondering if I had been mistaken. How could this be Sophia when her son was at least twenty years old?

The woman’s eyes were so large, her long, curved lashes almost met her perfect arched brows. Her hair, as black as mine, glistened in the sun and blew back from her beautiful face in wild, wavy tendrils. Her full lips opened in surprise. She reached up with one olive-toned hand to cover those lips. My eyes scanned over her, studying this woman in the hopes of gaining an idea of who she was. She wore a white blouse that hugged her curves and small waist. A multi-colored skirt reached almost to her ankles. Black thong sandals clung to her pedicured feet.

My eyes met hers again, raising my eyebrows in question. “What does my mother need to tell me?” I asked, blinking rapidly as I glanced from her to my mother and back again.

The woman lowered her hand as she studied me. A slow, gentle smile stretched across her face. “I’m so sorry for gawking,” she said, stepping forward and studying me in a way that made me shift on my feet. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. You were just a baby.”

I frowned as I stared at her, stepping down the steps of the motorhome so I could see her better. “You knew me as a baby?” I asked, still unsure this woman was Sophia, though there was no one else around.

She turned, scowling at my mother. “Fiona Anderson, you haven’t told her anything, have you?” She shook her head as she turned back to me with an exasperated sigh. “I was your mother’s midwife, helping her through the pregnancy and your birth. I was the first to hold you. It broke my heart when you left. I missed you as much as if you were my own. The last time I saw you, you were a little over a year old. Now you are a beautiful young woman.”

I frowned. I assumed we had left Sophia and her family soon after my birth, but we had been with them for a full year? This woman had bonded with me. As ridiculous as it was, part of me was ashamed that I could not remember her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, the smile still planted on her lips. I was sure she saw how uncomfortable I was. “I didn’t introduce myself. I’m Sophia Brazil. I’m your godmother and owner of this motorhome park. We are family.”

I glanced around, studying my surroundings for the first time. I was surprised I hadn’t noticed before, but I was so deep in the conversation with Sophia, I had not looked beyond her and my mother.

 We were in a large motorhome park, which seemed more like a small community than something temporary. We were parked next to a field shaped like a huge circle. A large pile of wood, which would probably become a bonfire at some point, stood in the center. Children played within the field, and laughter and music floated through the air. Picnic tables sat around the bonfire area. Many held people talking and eating. I glanced beyond the field and saw that a vast forest surrounded it, traveling upward toward a snowcapped mountain top. There was something quaint about this place…something calming. At ease, I smiled as I turned back to Sophia.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I said, wincing. All the relaxation from a moment before faded as I hoped her answer would not be the same one I had gotten from her son.

She frowned. Then, as if she understood, narrowed her eyes as she looked toward another motorhome. Andre leaned against it, watching his mother, fury reddening his face. My eyes widened as I turned back to Sophia, again wondering why he hated me so much.

“I assume Andre chose to be rude to you?” she asked with raised brows.

I blanched before staring down at my feet. “No,” I lied. When I peeked back up at her, she was shaking her head.

“You must excuse my son,” Sophia said. “Sometimes, he is less than gentlemanly, although he hasn’t been raised that way.”

“It’s okay, Sophia,” I said, glancing at Andre before looking back into her eyes.

She smiled and patted my shoulder. “No, it’s not,” she said, then shrugged. “But it will be.”

Sophia turned to my mother and smiled. “I’m glad to have you both back, but you should speak to your daughter and explain some things.” She then sent a pointed look toward Andre. “And I will speak to my son.”

My mother nodded. Her wide eyes met Sophia's. “I will, Sophia.”

She patted my mother’s cheek gently, then walked toward Andre with a determination that made me jealous. How could she face her son’s steely gaze without cowering?

“Aurora,” my mother said. I turned to look at her, seeing a strained, tortured expression. “We need to talk.”

Suddenly, my fear of Andre did not seem so bad. The secrets trapped within my mother’s mind terrified me more.