| Author: | Karen Diroll-Nichols | ISBN: | 9781476052922 |
| Publisher: | Karen Diroll-Nichols | Publication: | March 12, 2012 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition | Language: | English |
| Author: | Karen Diroll-Nichols |
| ISBN: | 9781476052922 |
| Publisher: | Karen Diroll-Nichols |
| Publication: | March 12, 2012 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition |
| Language: | English |
Anna Carson knew it was a dream.
It replayed itself now and again through the years since it had been reality. She never tried changing things. Never gave more than a passing thought to the colors and textures of a place that had been home for ten years. As far as she could recall, at least.
They were dark haired. Twins. A boy and a girl.
They sat at the desks in the room they had created as their study, each working on their own homework assignments. But both had looked up when the door opened that led outside. Both looked from the collection of people entering. All dressed in dark suits, carrying briefcases. Three men followed the minder to the back of the house.
“Papers to sign?” Aaron asked with a slight frown, a straight shock of dark hair falling over one eye.
“Too much pomp for just signing,” Anna counted the suits, cast a quick glance at the housekeeper that led them into a room at the back of the house. “Something’s not right.”
Without another word, they closed their books, gathered things into the neat packs they carried everywhere and went up the wide, curving staircase. It had been the two of them as long as they could recall. A series of home school teachers, a housekeeper and cook. And lawyers who brought things to them to sign on a regular basis.
They turned fourteen that spring. It wasn’t one she was likely to ever forget. They had a minder, that’s what they had come to call him. They began asking indepth questions at the age of ten and received honest, precise answers. They knew they were orphans. They also knew there was something more that wasn’t being shared with them. It’s always in the eyes, Anna thought as they entered the room they used on the second floor.
Anna leaned back and closed her eyes. They’d begun building a second life just after their tenth birthday. Aaron didn’t ask why. His instincts were to trust her instincts. He handled the money she filtered from their allowances. And he was extremely good at it. Just as she was equally good at getting additional funds for their future.
No one questioned it. Teenagers always needed something. The image they presented when pressed were that of indulgence wracked teenagers always after the newest or latest something. Neither of them balked at allowing that image to remain in place.
“Got your pack?” Aaron asked as they moved quietly in their room.
“All ready. We need to leave, Aaron,” large brown eyes stared at her brother. “Now.” And she didn’t wait for a response, slinging the backpack into place and easing herself out the side window. A window they had prepared with a carefully shielded escape route. And still, neither of them had asked the other why it was necessary. The last month they had removed a good many things that were important to them both, taking them bit by bit from the house and into the new location. Never talking much, just doing.
They were almost two blocks away when the explosion rocked the neighborhood. Aaron grabbed Anna around the shoulders, her palms up and covering her lips, silent tears rolling down her cheeks.
Anna Carson knew it was a dream.
It replayed itself now and again through the years since it had been reality. She never tried changing things. Never gave more than a passing thought to the colors and textures of a place that had been home for ten years. As far as she could recall, at least.
They were dark haired. Twins. A boy and a girl.
They sat at the desks in the room they had created as their study, each working on their own homework assignments. But both had looked up when the door opened that led outside. Both looked from the collection of people entering. All dressed in dark suits, carrying briefcases. Three men followed the minder to the back of the house.
“Papers to sign?” Aaron asked with a slight frown, a straight shock of dark hair falling over one eye.
“Too much pomp for just signing,” Anna counted the suits, cast a quick glance at the housekeeper that led them into a room at the back of the house. “Something’s not right.”
Without another word, they closed their books, gathered things into the neat packs they carried everywhere and went up the wide, curving staircase. It had been the two of them as long as they could recall. A series of home school teachers, a housekeeper and cook. And lawyers who brought things to them to sign on a regular basis.
They turned fourteen that spring. It wasn’t one she was likely to ever forget. They had a minder, that’s what they had come to call him. They began asking indepth questions at the age of ten and received honest, precise answers. They knew they were orphans. They also knew there was something more that wasn’t being shared with them. It’s always in the eyes, Anna thought as they entered the room they used on the second floor.
Anna leaned back and closed her eyes. They’d begun building a second life just after their tenth birthday. Aaron didn’t ask why. His instincts were to trust her instincts. He handled the money she filtered from their allowances. And he was extremely good at it. Just as she was equally good at getting additional funds for their future.
No one questioned it. Teenagers always needed something. The image they presented when pressed were that of indulgence wracked teenagers always after the newest or latest something. Neither of them balked at allowing that image to remain in place.
“Got your pack?” Aaron asked as they moved quietly in their room.
“All ready. We need to leave, Aaron,” large brown eyes stared at her brother. “Now.” And she didn’t wait for a response, slinging the backpack into place and easing herself out the side window. A window they had prepared with a carefully shielded escape route. And still, neither of them had asked the other why it was necessary. The last month they had removed a good many things that were important to them both, taking them bit by bit from the house and into the new location. Never talking much, just doing.
They were almost two blocks away when the explosion rocked the neighborhood. Aaron grabbed Anna around the shoulders, her palms up and covering her lips, silent tears rolling down her cheeks.
