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  Rast followed her into the bookshelf lined room with its sober, overstuffed leather furniture. The study was where his father had always doled out punishment. Being summoned there to talk made him feel like a kid all over again—one who had transgressed one of the many house rules and was soon to be spanked or grounded.

  “Where’s Dad?” he asked as his mother settled herself into a deep leather armchair with brass buttons and indicated that he should take the one across from it.

  She sighed and steepled her fingers. “Well, that’s something I need to talk to you about. I kept meaning to call you and somehow I just never got around to it…”

  Rast felt a quick spasm of panic. “Is he sick? Is he in the hospital or something?”

  “No, I think he’s in the Bahamas. Or wherever it is old fools go to chase young women.” His mother shook her head. “Anyway, the point is, we’re getting a divorce.”

  “What?” Rast couldn’t have been more shocked if she’d told him his father was down at the funeral home and she hadn’t gotten around to picking a casket yet. “You’re what?” he said again.

  “Honestly, Adam, I don’t know why you’re so surprised. You know things haven’t been right between us for a long time. Not since…” His mother shook her head. “Not for a long time.”

  “Not since Jessie was killed, you mean,” Rast said in a low voice. “Don’t make that face, Mom—you know it’s true.”

  “That doesn’t make it a polite topic of conversation.” She frowned at him reprovingly. “So kindly stop talking about distasteful subjects and tell me what you came to say.”

  Rast took a deep breath and tried to clear his head. “I…I’m leaving,

  he said at last. “Not just the city or the country. I’m leaving Earth. I’m going in a Kindred ship thousands of light years away and I don’t know when I’ll be back. In fact, someone told me I might…might not be back. I’m sorry, Mom.”

  For a moment she just sat there, staring at him. Then she seemed to shake herself and sighed. “Don’t be, Adam. You barely come around anyway—I’m sure we’ll manage without you.”

  Her accusation was true but it still stung. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll miss you too,” he said dryly.

  She nodded. “I’m certain you will.”

  “Don’t you want to know why I’m going?” He felt like a little kid asking for approval, showing her the A plus on his math test or the Excellent on his book report and hoping for a positive response—any response. But as usual, his mother didn’t give him one.

  “I’m sure you have your reasons.” She looked down at her steepled fingers and then up at him again. “Adam, if you’re serious about leaving I feel there’s something I ought to tell you. Something you should know.”

  “What?” His heart was suddenly beating in his throat. “Is it about Jessie? Something you didn’t tell me when I was a kid?”

  “Something like that but not what you’re thinking.” His mother gave him that reproving look again. The look that said he was discussing “distasteful” matters and should let them drop.

  “What then?” Rast was genuinely bewildered.

  She took a deep breath. “Adam, I don’t know how to tell you this so I’ll just say it. You were adopted.”

  “What?” The word should have come out as a full throated roar but it was a bewildered whisper instead. “What?” he asked again, feeling sure he must have misheard.

  “It’s true.” His mother nodded briskly. “We got you for Jessie. Your father and I were both so busy with our careers and she wanted something to play with—something to love. We offered her a cat or a dog but what she wanted most was a baby—a little brother.”

  Rast shook his head in disbelief. “So you took her down to the local adoption agency and let her pick me out like a puppy in a pen?”

  “Something like that.” His mother flicked an imaginary piece of lint off her skirt. “Of course she was in school so we didn’t want a baby in arms. I had already gone through the whole tiresome mess of potty training once with Jessie—I had no intention of doing it again.”

  Rast’s lips felt too numb to speak but somehow he managed to force words out anyway. “How…how old was I when you got me?”

  His mother shrugged. “Around three, we think—no one really knew for sure.”

  “No one knew? What about my real mom—my biological mother, I mean?” Rast demanded. “She would have known.”

  “I’m sure she would have if they could have found her,” his mother said tartly. “But no one could. You were picked up wandering naked in a field outside the city. The woman who brought you in said you were right by a huge sink hole and it was a wonder you hadn’t fallen into it and killed yourself.”

  “So she just took me?” Rast demanded. “How could they be sure my real mother wasn’t there somewhere and too afraid to come forward?”

  “To my understanding they did an exhaustive search of the area,” his mother said. “But even if one or both of your biological parents had been around, there was no way they could have stepped forward to claim you.”

  “What? Why not?”

  “Because of the scars.” She gestured at him. “You had two terrible scars running parallel to your shoulder blades. It was clear you’d been abused—anyone who dared to claim you would have been blamed for that. So no one did—claim you, I mean.”

  “Except for Jessie,” Rast said in a harsh whisper. “She claimed me when she picked me out.”

  “We tried to change her mind, your father and I.” His mother shook her head. “We told her you’d had a traumatic past and there were likely going to be behavior problems as a result. Problems she was going to have to deal with because we made it very clear that you were her responsibility, right from the start.”

  “Jesus, Mom.” Rast didn’t know what to say—it was too much to take in at once.

  “Well, nothing we could say would change her mind,” his mother continued, either oblivious or uncaring of his shock. “She just had to have you. Said she would heal you and she wanted to be your mom. We took you as a foster child at first—as a trial to see how well she’d do, you know.”

  “Yeah?” Rast whispered numbly.

  “Oh, yes.” His mother nodded. “But she proved to us she was responsible after all. That’s why we ended up adopting you.” She looked thoughtful. “And I must say, you were a remarkably well adapted child. Jessie used her own allowance to buy the special skin cream the doctor recommended and even the scars faded over time.” She cocked her head. “I dare say you never even noticed them yourself.”

  Rast frowned. “My…my shoulders feel tight sometimes. And sometimes I get kind of an…an itching, tingling sensation along my shoulder blades but no, I never would have guess that someone…”

  “Abused you,” his mother finished for him. “Yes, well, we assumed the scars were from some kind of belt. But as I said, they faded in time. And you made Jessie very happy.” She looked down at her hands. “I’ve always been grateful for that. That she had some happiness before…before she had to leave us.”

  Rast was suddenly angry. “She didn’t leave, Mom—she was murdered. Murdered.”

  “Adam, please.” His mother looked up at him, frowning. “That is not—”

  “A polite topic of conversation, I know,” he finished for her savagely. “Nothing about Jessie is a polite topic of conversation. Do you know how much I missed her? How awful it was to know she was never coming home again and not even be able to talk about it?” He ran a hand through his hair. “Hell, this is the most you’ve mentioned her name in twenty years.”

  “We all deal with grief in our own way, Adam.” His mother’s lips were a thin, tight line. “I did the best I could for you after Jessie left. I never really wanted the responsibility of raising another child. You were hers…the same way she was mine. After she was gone I didn’t…didn’t quite know what to do with you.”

  “You sure as hell knew what not to do, though, didn’t you?” All tho