“The ladies’ man!” teased Van as Alexi drove him into Oakland in Joe’s old station wagon. “The honeys were all over you in Kvitfjell. I just stood by, holding up my sign: I’m Alexi Rousseau’s ski tech, available for kisses and autographs on immediate demand.”
“Those Norwegian crowds suffocated me,” said Alexi, shaking his head. “I’ve seen it with some of the others, but I never dreamed it would happen to me.”
“What did you expect, Youngblood? At the Worlds, you got a silver in the slalom along with your gold. Then, putting aside your first super-G of the season, you kicked butt in Japan and got a top-three finish in Norway. You’re on a roll, baby, and everybody loves a winner.”
“I’m just glad the racing season’s over and we’re back in the U.S. where no one knows me. By the way, you need to tell me where we’re going.”
“Take a left at the signal after the next one, and my sister’s place is three houses down on the right. You have my number there if you need me during the next few weeks. Call if you’re overloaded with women hot on your tracks, and I’ll try to ease the pressure.”
When Alexi dropped Van in front of his sister’s house, Van mimicked a fawning female, blowing Alexi a kiss. Alexi hid his face and drove off, eventually shooting across the Bay Bridge on his way to the rehabilitation center. He planned to surprise Sister Micki with a special present, an intricate gold cross he had purchased in Granada.
Once there, Alexi bolted for the ward, peeking in and hoping to see Sister Micki, but she appeared to be missing, and all of the men he had once known were gone. He turned and strode for Mr. Beemus’s office.
Mr. Beemus was sitting at his desk, writing on a pad when Alexi knocked. Mr. Beemus looked up over his glasses, squinting, and then he smiled.
“Alexi, my boy, how are you? It is so good to see you. How goes the ski career?”
“Just fine, Mr. Beemus, thank you. I had hoped to catch Sister Micki. Is she around?”
Mr. Beemus’s smile disappeared. “Sister Micki is no longer with us,” he said. “I’m so sorry, I thought you knew. She died about six months ago. Her struggle was a long one, I’m afraid, a rare cancer that saps the life out of you over time. Always a trooper, that one, and boy, did she have special affection for you. That’s why I thought she may have told you.”
Mr. Beemus began searching through his desk, fumbling from drawer to drawer. “She left something for you,” he said, “and I almost forgot. I can’t have misplaced it. She made me swear to give it to you when you returned. Ah, here it is.”
Mr. Beemus offered Alexi an envelope addressed to “Hotshot.” Alexi took it reflexively, his world full of confusion and grief.
“If it’s any comfort to you,” said Mr. Beemus, “she died quite peacefully, I’m told.”
“Thank you,” mumbled Alexi, looking at Mr. Beemus without seeing him. He left the rehabilitation center and headed back to his car on autopilot. He sat behind the wheel, staring into space.
She nurtured me even though she knew she was dying, he thought, suddenly feeling guilty. Then he opened the envelope and read a letter dated July 7, 1995.
My Dear Alexi:
I hope this letter finds you full of purpose. By the time of your reading, you will have fulfilled one of your purposes, I am quite sure. You will have earned your crown. How do I know? Because I feel it!
I remember our conversations with fondness. In addition to great physical skill, you are sharp of wit. I believe one of your purposes will be to develop your wit even further, if that is your choice. But you also have other choices to make, none of which concern skiing or the further development of your mind. Among them, you desire to know who you are, from whence you come. The answer may be closer than you think. Seek, and you shall find.
I am forever your mother in Christ, and I look forward to the joining of spiritual mother and son in the Great Hereafter. Until then, follow paths of righteousness for His name’s sake, and your life will be full of blessings.
Michela Petrini
Alexi smacked his hand against the passenger seat. I’m such a jerk. I should have come back sooner. If only I had known when I tried to visit her before, I could have done more to find her. Then I could have comforted her the way she comforted me. My selfishness blinded me to her condition, and she never complained, just like Mom toward the end.
Alexi started the car and drove back to Lake Tahoe. While the weather was clear, he remained in a fog. Once he arrived back at the Rousseau cabin, he explained Sister Micki’s death and handed off her letter. Joe took it to the couch while watching him with concern. The two exchanged very few words during the remainder of the day.
That evening, Alexi searched his bedroom for the brown shopping bag. He found it at the back of his closet. He pulled it down and spread out the blue blanket he had once dismissed. Examining the yarn closely, he discerned for the first time sticklike people incorporated into the design. He reread the letter written by the woman who called herself Alicia.
Dear Ma’am:
Please accept my baby as a gift. Please do not reject him. Please love him and raise him as your own. May he release you from your sorrow and bring you as much joy as he has brought to me in just a few hours. He was born yesterday evening. When you decide on a name, call Shelby and let him know. Arrangements have been made to issue his birth certificate to you and your husband. We only need his name. He is healthy and comes from good stock. I promise I shall never interfere.
Sincerely,
Alicia
Alexi dumped the contents from the bag before Joe the next day. “Does this mean anything to you?” he asked, holding up the blanket.
Joe grinned as he took the blanket from Alexi. “I remember it well, as should you,” he said. “You wouldn’t go to sleep without it when you were a baby.” He inspected the letter and Shelby Stit’s business card. “Where did this all come from?”
“Reverend Murphy gave it to me after I came home from the rehabilitation center. He said Mom asked him to hold everything for me until I got older.”
“Oh, I see,” said Joe, casting his eyes downward. “I guess she didn’t trust me with her wishes,” he whispered, “and unfortunately, I can’t say I blame her.” Joe’s eyes drifted back to Alexi’s. “I think this bag has something to do with Sister Micki’s letter,” he said. “I wanted to ask you yesterday about a statement she made, but decided to hold off. Something about you wanting to know more about where you come from.”
Alexi paused. “Once, I would have been uncomfortable answering your question truthfully. Now I believe I can be honest, although I still feel the subject is a little sensitive.”
“Just say it plainly, Alexi. You and I have both grown.”
“At the rehabilitation center, I confided to Sister Micki that I really didn’t know who or what I was in terms of my birth parents. I think she understood my curiosity.”
“It’s only natural. So, what’s your plan? Are you going to try to find her? Maddie never thought this Shelby guy was your father, but if you can find him, maybe he knows how to contact her.”
“I’ve tried to bury my curiosity, but it’s come back with Sister Micki’s urging. Like Mom, she always seemed to know the best thing for me. Plus, I have questions I’ve always wanted answered. Would you mind?”
“Not at all,” said Joe. “I’m curious, too. Would you like my help?”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll give this a try on my own if you don’t mind.”
“Suit yourself,” said Joe. “While you start your search, I think I’ll go over to the mountain and bask in your glory. They’re planning a big celebration while ski season is still on. I’ve put them off for a few days, letting them know you need some rest from admiring crowds.”
Alexi laughed as Joe stepped into the bathroom and primped in the mirror. When he left, Alexi’s thoughts returned to his birth mother.
Be careful what you ask for. If she’s still alive, she could be a poor, worn-down woman, maybe even an alcoholic or a drug addict. I probably have a bunch of brothers and sisters, all fathered by different men. And who knows, she may even beg for money.
Then the worst possibility came to mind. What if she rejects me, wants nothing to do with me? That would be the end, the final confirmation of what I’ve always thought—and impossible to forgive.
Alexi reexamined Shelby Stit’s business card, listing a telephone number but no address. He picked up the phone and dialed the number. A Spanish-speaking woman answered, and through an exchange in his broken Spanish and her limited English, Alexi concluded the number no longer belonged to Shelby. He dialed information for San Francisco and other cities in the Bay Area, but came up empty.
Settling on a different strategy, Alexi left the cabin and drove to a South Shore art gallery. No one there recognized the name, so he returned to the cabin and randomly called a dozen other Bay Area art galleries, with the same result.
“This man may have moved out of California,” said Joe that evening, after Alexi summarized his efforts. “We can hire an investigator to see if we can find him.” Joe suddenly raised a finger. “I’m afraid there’s also another possibility. Why don’t you go down to Sacramento and see what you can find? Perhaps Shelby Stit is no longer alive.”
Alexi drove to the Department of Health Services on Monday morning and submitted a request for public records pertaining to Shelby Stit. He received a photocopy of a death certificate indicating that Shelby had died from natural causes in 1992. Maybe this is not meant to be, he thought. This guy was my only link, and now he’s gone. Then he had another idea. He ordered his own birth certificate, knowing his parents would be listed as Joe and Madeline Rousseau, to see what kind of additional information might appear. When the certificate arrived, he thought for the first time about the location of his birth, a hospital in San Francisco.
Alexi hopped on Interstate 80, hoping the hospital would have records that he would be allowed to access. Arriving in San Francisco, he searched up and down the street where the place should have been, learning from a passerby that it no longer existed.
That evening, Alexi studied the faded blue blanket. Sitting before the fireplace, he wrapped it across his shoulders and felt sudden familiarity as the warmth from the blanket enveloped him. Shelby Stit’s death certificate was lying on the coffee table.
Search for clues, he thought as he sprang from the couch. Let’s see here. No family is listed. The person reporting his death is a hospital official. Burial arrangements were handled by a funeral home in San Francisco. Hmm, a funeral home in San Francisco for a man with no known family?
On Tuesday morning, Alexi drove up to a formal-looking funeral home on the outskirts of San Francisco, carrying with him the brown shopping bag and its contents. Once inside, he targeted a receptionist who appeared about his age.
“Hi!” she said, smiling sweetly as Alexi approached her. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, miss, I’m seeking information on a burial you guys handled in 1992. I’m sort of hoping you can tell me who arranged it.”
“Who shall I say is here, and what is your relationship to the deceased?”
“My name is Alexi Rousseau, and I’m an old friend. His name is Shelby Stit.”
The receptionist paused, shifting her head slightly. “I’ve heard your name before,” she said. “How do I know you? What do you do?”
“I’m surprised you’ve heard of me at all. I’m a skier, but I’m not very well known in the U.S. outside of people who follow ski racing.”
“That’s it! You just won some kind of big race awhile back. I remember now. I watched it on TV. You were great!”
“Thanks,” said Alexi, turning on the charm with an expansive smile.
“You know, we’re not supposed to give out this kind of information, especially to just friends, but let me see what I can do. What’s the man’s name again?”
“Shelby Stit.”
“Have a seat, and I’ll be right back.”
About ten minutes later, the receptionist reappeared.
“If you give me your autograph and phone number,” she said, “I have something for you.”
“Okay, sounds fair to me, but who goes first?”
“You,” said the receptionist, giggling. She thrust a sheet of paper before him.
Alexi smiled and signed his name, adding the telephone number for general information at Squaw Valley.
“All of the burial arrangements were made by Lil’s Place,” said the receptionist, grinning.
“Lil’s Place?”
“Yeah, it’s a women’s shelter in town, over by Alamo Square.”
“Thank you very much,” said Alexi as he turned to leave.
“I’m going to call you, okay? Maybe you can take me skiing.”
“Sure,” he said, waving good-bye.
By noon Alexi had found his way to Lil’s Place. He sat in his car, studying the fancy Victorian-style home. Perhaps my mother once stayed here, he thought, and that’s how she got Shelby to drop me off.
He grabbed the paper bag and slowly approached the front door, checking for activity, listening for voices. He felt his heart skip a beat as he eyed the doorbell. Finally he pressed it and heard a rich chime ring through the house.
“Can someone get that, please?” called an authoritative voice inside. “I’m on a long-distance call.”
The door flew open.
“Hello, who are you here to see?” asked a sultry-looking beauty, who offered Alexi a businesslike smile. Then she narrowed her eyes and peered at him closely.
Alexi stared, taken aback by her fuzzy pink sweater and formfitting jeans—clothing that revealed so little, yet so much.
“I’m hoping you can help me,” he finally said. “I’m wondering whether anyone here knows an Alicia, or remembers a guy by the name of Shelby Stit.”
“I’ve never heard of a Shelby Stit, but Licia is here. Come in and have a seat. Who may I say is calling?”
“She won’t know my name. You can say I’m one of Shelby’s friends.”
The young woman stepped aside, allowing Alexi into the entryway. He forced his eyes away from her and noticed shiny hardwood floors and Persian rugs spread about, providing an atmosphere of elegance that belied his image of a women’s shelter.
Following her to the library, he remained standing after she disappeared. He refocused on his mission and felt nervous tension rising to his head. If Licia is short for Alicia, he thought, could she be my mother?
Two attractive black women, one short and shapely, the other tall and slender, passed by the room, laughing. The shorter of the two had glanced in, and now she returned, inspecting him. Her eyes widened, and she offered a forced smile.
“Just one second,” she said.
Alicia was talking on the phone with Swedish economic officials visiting the World Bank. A few weeks before, the group had invited her to Sweden to deliver a paper. She had been discussing the details of her trip and was near the end of the call when she heard a knock on her door.
Marcia Davenport poked her head in and whispered, “There’s someone here to see you.”
“Who?” asked Alicia, mouthing the word.
“I don’t know, but he looks familiar. He says he’s a friend of a Shelby Stit.”
Alicia smiled and held up a finger, signaling she would be available shortly.
When she emerged from the office a few moments later, Celia and Danielle stood waiting for her. Her pace slowed as she entered the room. Then she froze as though she were standing at the top of a cliff, where a sudden wrong move would lead to immediate death.
Alexi’s eyes shot to her as she became tearful. She wanted to rush to him, throw her arms around him, tell him that she was so very proud, and that she had thought about him constantly with extreme heartfelt love. But his face had transformed from uncertainty to cold recognition, leaving her speechless, breathless, spinning.
Alexi yanked the blue blanket out of a paper bag and held it in front of him, his eyes penetrating, vengeful.
“Did you make this?” he demanded. “Are you Alicia?”
Alicia gasped, remembering the care she had taken with her work so many years before. Her bottom lip began to tremble.
“Did you write this note?” he asked, taking a letter out of the bag, unfolding it, and holding it up before her.
Alicia’s head jolted in agony as she remembered her struggle to write a few basic sentences and her torture in the hospital the day she released him to the Rousseaus. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she tried, without success, to utter the one thought that blared in her mind: I have loved you unconditionally.
“Why?” blurted Alexi. “Why did you give me away?”
Alicia recognized the intense expression—the one Alexi displayed before the start of a ski race—and each question sounded like an attack, like a dagger aimed at her heart and driven into her body with venom. She again tried to speak but uttered no sound. Silenced by Alexi’s sudden, shocking presence and the resurrection of guilt, she stood defenseless, revealing only tears, trembling lips, and a body struggling to stay upright.
“I am so sorry to have disturbed you,” he finally said, stuffing the letter and the blanket back inside the bag. “I shouldn’t have come here. I’ve wondered about you my entire life—who you were, what you looked like, and why you gave me away. You promised not to interfere, but there were times when I wished you had. I’m a good person, Alicia. It’s really too bad you never wanted to know me.”
“Oh, shit,” whispered Celia as Alexi dropped the bag on the floor and stormed out of Lil’s Place.
Alicia stumbled toward her room, bracing herself against the wall. She had never felt so misunderstood, and now by the one she loved beyond love, the one whose life she had protected at the risk of ruining her own.
As Alicia darted into her room, Danielle watched Celia, whose hands gripped the sides of her face.
“Nah, nah, nah,” said Danielle. “It can’t go down like this. I got him. You go take care of her.”
Celia jerked into motion, and Danielle launched for the front door.
“Alexi,” she shouted, springing down the steps as he opened his car door. “Come back! You don’t understand!” Danielle gripped his arm, tugging at him as he prepared to slide behind the wheel. “You deserve answers to your questions,” she said, trying to control her anger, “but she’s not a mountain you can attack like a maniac! Alicia didn’t deserve that, especially from you. If you really want answers, you need to come with me. There are some things you need to see. Come on!”
Strong-willed and desperate, Danielle pulled a semi-compliant, rugged young man back toward Lil’s Place, then led him into Alicia’s office. “We call this Alexi’s shrine,” she said.
Alexi squinted, closed his eyes and opened them, and squinted again. He took a step back as his hands went to the top of his head. He eyed Danielle in disbelief. Then he approached the first picture to his left.
“I was only, I couldn’t have been any older than about three in this picture,” he said. “My mother took me skiing. She seems so young here!” He paused before moving to another picture. “This is the playground at the school I went to. I couldn’t have been any older than five in this one, and this is a race at Squaw! That’s—that’s Susie Taylor standing with me. Unbelievable! This is my whole life here.”
Danielle lifted the framed article announcing Alexi’s selection to the U.S. Ski Team from Alicia’s desk. She handed it to him, and after a pause she showed him another framed article covering his victories at the U.S. Nationals, and a picture of him celebrating one of the races with his father.
Alexi took the last picture and collapsed in a seat. “Was she there?” he asked.
“She was always there, and you need to see this one, too.”
Danielle found the article describing Alexi’s accident tucked away in Alicia’s desk. A large red X crossed out the text.
“She knew?”
“I remember the day she found this article. She and Celia busted out of here so fast on their way to Lake Tahoe, you wouldn’t believe it.” Danielle smiled. “You should have seen us the day you won that gold medal. I have never seen your mother celebrate like that, even when she’s had cause to celebrate for herself.”
“This doesn’t make sense. The way she acted a few minutes ago, I didn’t think she wanted anything to do with me.”
“Think about it, Alexi. You showed up unexpectedly, confronting her with your questions. And there’s something else you probably don’t understand. Your mother loves you hard. Love can make a woman giddy with happiness, but it can also shut her down.”
“I’ve been shadowed my entire life by a woman I never thought gave a damn about me,” said Alexi as his expression turned mournful. “But if she cared about me so much, why did she give me away?”
“Celia needs to explain it to you; she knows more than me. But I think you’re going to learn your mother gave you away more out of love than anything else. Stay here, and let me go get Celia. Don’t move an inch!”
Danielle ran down the hall to Alicia’s room and peeked in. She saw Celia sitting next to Alicia, who lay whimpering on the bed with her back turned away.
“He hates me!” cried Alicia.
“That’s not true,” said Celia. “He just doesn’t know. When he settles down you can go explain things to him on your own terms and in your own way. Today we were all caught off guard.”
“I’ve lost him!” wailed Alicia between sobs. “I’ve lost him for good. If Benny gave me away without telling me, I’m going to kill him!”
“Alicia, you know Benny wouldn’t do that. Alexi found you on his own.”
Danielle cracked the door open further and beckoned Celia out of the room. As Celia stepped out, Danielle closed the door.
“I’ve explained some things to him,” she whispered, “but he’s got some questions maybe you should answer. I’ll stay with Alicia. You go talk to him.”
“I’ll answer his questions,” shot back Celia, tucking in her blouse, “but first I’m going to kick his big ass!”
“Celia, go easy,” said Danielle. “He’s hurting just like she is.”
Alexi remained in the office, examining the photos and articles. When he heard footsteps approaching, he turned as the woman he believed to be Celia walked into the room.
Celia dipped her head, peering over her eyeglasses.
“How’s my boyfriend Johnny?” she asked, breaking into a grin.
Alexi frowned. Then recognition stirred as he remembered the day his old friend had joined him in assisting two pretty women down a ski slope. “Was it you?” he said, trying to visualize Celia as Johnny’s partner.
Celia nodded, continuing to grin.
“Was I—was I with her? Is she the one I skied with?”
“The one and only.”
“Johnny never got over you, and I never got over her.”
“She never got over you, either.”
“Then why did she give me away?”
Celia took a deep breath. She grabbed Alexi’s hand and took him to a set of chairs.
“Alexi, when your mother first came here pregnant with you,” said Celia as the two sat facing one another, “she was only seventeen. She didn’t want to give you up, but she didn’t have a pot to piss in, and she wanted you to have a chance at a decent life.” Celia smiled. “I remember when she made that blanket for you. She made another one, a pink one, but I already knew you were going to be a boy.”
Celia looked away. “I remember the day you were born. I have never seen a woman go through so much pain as Alicia did when she gave you away. She cried long and hard—just a baby she was herself—and she didn’t cry again for a long, long time afterwards. I thought it would destroy her, but instead she came out of her funk a different person: tougher, determined, on a mission.
“I went with her damn near every time she wanted to see you, and I went with her to Lake Tahoe when you were injured. You should have seen her, Alexi. She went into motion like a madwoman, researching doctors and traveling to Los Angeles to meet Dr. Fein.”
Alexi gasped. “You mean she hired Dr. Fein and Dr. Tilman?”
“Yep, your mother took care of it all.”
“Never in my wildest dreams did I expect my birth mother to be responsible for my doctors. I thought once she gave me away, it was the end of me for her.”
“No, baby. It was just the beginning.”
“But how could she afford to pay for everything? What on earth does she do?”
Celia frowned as she shed tears. “Your mother is a big-time economist,” she said. “I get soapy just thinking about it, but after she had you, she got a Ph.D.—worked her way through Stanford and then Berkeley. The woman you just stepped all over, the one who sweated over your every move from the day you were born, gives advice to governments, and people pay her a small fortune for economic studies.”
Alexi lowered his head. “I was all wrong about her,” he said. “She sounds really special.”
“She’s more than special. I have a master’s degree in psychology, and I’m a licensed clinical social worker. I had no right to expect either when I first came here, and I owe it all to her. She sent Danielle to fashion school, and we’re not the only ones. There’s a long list of women your mother has helped in one way or another. She’s also the best friend I’ve ever had in my life, and I could never love a blood sister more than I love her. Get the point?”
Alexi looked at Celia with pleading eyes. “Can I see her?”
“Sure, but this time be gentle. She’s been through a lot.”
Celia led Alexi to a room down the hallway. He noticed his blue blanket neatly folded inside the bag, resting on the floor near the door. She picked up the bag and eased the door open. Then she summoned him with a finger and thrust the bag into his arms.
Standing at the edge of the doorway, he saw Danielle sitting in a chair while his mother lay on a bed, turned away from the door. Danielle smiled. She stood and slipped out of the room while Alexi felt Celia pushing him in, closing the door behind him.
Alexi cringed at the sight of his mother sniffling pathetically. He noticed her wrapped in a blanket that, except for its color, appeared nearly identical to his. He leaned over the bed a little, wondering if he could smell a fragrance reminiscent of the one she had once left on his ski jacket.
She became a dream, he thought, but this is her, my real mother, and now that day makes so much sense.
Alexi touched her shoulder ever so slightly. She whipped around, her eyes growing large. Then she plunged and clutched him as though she feared he might walk out again. He smelled her scent and felt the warmth of her embrace, both refreshing his memory, and then he returned her hug before she finally let him go.
“I am so very, very sorry,” said Alicia. “I was lost in a nightmare. I didn’t want to give you up. My heart said no, but my mind said—”
“Please, it’s okay,” interrupted Alexi. “You don’t have to explain. Celia and the other lady told me what I needed to know. I’m so sorry for my behavior. I feel like such an idiot. Is there a chance, maybe, we can start over?”
“I would love to!” Alicia swiped at her puffy, discolored eyes.
“The day you came to the mountain and skied with me,” said Alexi, “you made me feel special to you even then.”
Alicia smiled and gestured toward a wall. Alexi turned and saw a painting of a woman entwined with a boy as the two skied piggyback down a ski slope.
“That day was one of my happiest, yet so difficult,” she said as Alexi approached the painting. “You seemed so sad and lonely. You told me your other mom had died, and I lost control of myself, acting like your mother. I almost gave myself away.”
Standing next to the artwork, Alexi noticed lifelike colors and vivid details, including sad faces on the woman and the boy. He saw the artist’s signature: “S. Stit.” He closed his eyes and smiled.
“I’ve seen all of the other pictures and articles,” he said as he returned to her. “You made my doctors possible. I owe you so much. You were always there behind the scenes, checking on me. Now I know why you seem familiar. What is your last name?”
“Tilman,” said Alicia, biting her lower lip.
Alexi raised his eyebrows. “And so Dr. Tilman is—?”
“My brother and your uncle, but please don’t feel deceived.”
Alexi frowned. “A friend made a comment about how much we resemble one another. I should have known something was up, given the way he treated me.”
“There is so much you need to know,” said Alicia. “I bumped into Benny at the hospital where you first had the X-ray and MRI. From that point he knew you were my son, but I asked him to keep my secret because I had promised not to interfere.”
Alexi struggled with a vague memory. “I remember a woman outside of the examination room,” he said. “I heard her crying, and we looked at one another. Was that you?”
“Yes. I snuck a peek at you. Seeing you so immobilized, I lost control.”
“My own mother, and I didn’t even know it. Why didn’t you say something?”
“With your father there, it would have been awkward.”
“But what if I had never tried to find you? What then? You would have continued to track me, I suppose, but I never would have known my real mother. It just doesn’t seem fair.”
“Alexi, the whole situation was unfair from the very beginning, and we both have suffered for it; but I still believe I made the right decision at the time. I don’t know what would have happened if you had never searched for me. I’m just so very happy you did. You came here, I hope, because you wanted to know the woman who gave you life and develop a relationship with her, if possible?”
Alexi smiled. “I didn’t expect to develop a relationship with you when I came here today, but I would like to try.”
“Good, because I’ve got news for you,” said Alicia, grinning. “This time I’ll never let you go!”
Alexi eyed her in silence. “I have so many questions,” he finally said. “Do I have any brothers or sisters?”
“No, although I had hoped to give this pink blanket to a daughter someday. Maybe we’ll save it for your daughter.”
Alexi pulled out his own blanket and pointed to the sticklike figures. “I’ve wondered whether these represent real people,” he said. “Were you trying to tell me something?”
“This blanket is your family, Alexi. In my own way, I wanted to give you a keepsake, something that I treasured. This figure here,” she said, pointing, “represents my dad, your grandfather. Benny is named after him, and he’s an oral surgeon in Chesapeake, Virginia. The smaller one next to him is my mom, your grandmother. Her name is Sandra Tilman, and she’s a retired schoolteacher. This one is my grandmother, your great-grandmother. We all call her Mama Tilman. Next to her is Benny, and the one here in the middle is me.”
“You know, I’ve always wanted to know about you and the rest of my blood relatives, but I didn’t expect this. In fact, everything is the opposite of what I expected, especially you.”
“How so?”
“I didn’t think you were my mother when you first walked into the room. You seemed too young and too pretty. But your reaction gave you away.” He pointed at the figures on the blanket. “Do you think I can meet these people someday?”
“I don’t know if that’s possible,” said Alicia as she folded her pink blanket. “You see, I’m not exactly welcome at home.”
“I don’t understand,” said Alexi, shifting backwards. “Why?”
“It’s a long story, but you should know everything. Do you have anywhere to be anytime soon?”
“I found where I had to go.”
Alicia wrapped her arms around Alexi. When she let him go, she began explaining her past, including the details surrounding the dark family secret, and Alexi learned what she could tell him about his father. She also explained why she had chosen the Rousseaus, indicating that Mother Lil knew about the death of Todd and had made the recommendation. She said nothing about Joe’s relationship with Joanna McIntire.
As she moved the story to Lil’s Place and disclosed her one-time role, Alexi became suspicious, expressing in polite terms his concern over the true activities of an escort. Leaving no room for doubt, Alicia assured him that she had never even remotely considered prostitution, nor had it ever been sanctioned by Lil’s Place.
As Alicia arrived at the present, she told Alexi about her relationship with Claude. Then she explained her attempt to return to Chesapeake and why she believed her parents prohibited her return.
“Wow, all because of me,” he said. “You gave up a promising future to give me a chance at life, and it ruined your relationship with your family.”
“It is what it is, but today a big part of me got fixed.”
“I really admire you—but I need to check on this guy Claude and see if I approve.” Alexi laughed just as he heard a knock on the door.
Celia and Danielle entered, carrying trays with sandwiches, chips, and drinks. Smiling broadly, they left without saying a word as Alicia thanked them profusely. Alexi knew her gratitude extended beyond the food, as did his.
When the two finished eating, Alicia suggested that Alexi call Joe.
“You have no idea how much a parent worries,” she said. “Let him know you’re okay, because it’s getting late and I want you to spend the night. Please? You can sleep in here, and I’ll sleep upstairs.”
Alexi knew Alicia would take only one answer. He borrowed her phone and called Joe. As he explained his discovery and decision to spend the night, he watched as Alicia nibbled on her fingernails.
“Joe told me to invite you to the cabin,” he said when he finished. “He wants to meet you.”
“Really? I was worried that he might consider me an intruder.”
“You have to know Joe, Alicia. He’s very true to himself, so when you’re invited, you are really invited.”
Alicia smiled, and the two kept talking, their conversation becoming increasingly upbeat. But finally, at about three in the morning, as Alicia prepared to leave the room, Alexi noticed that she had grown melancholy.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Let me have your hands,” she said.
Alexi held his hands before her. She took them as she would a newborn baby, cradling and stroking.
“This refreshes memories of touch and smell,” she said as she closed her eyes, rubbing one of his palms against her cheek. “This refreshes memories of taste,” she said, kissing one of his fingers. Then, as she gazed into his eyes, her tears dropped on his blue blanket. “And this buries pain, sorrow, and regret. And now I hope for a fresh beginning.”
Alexi awoke to a splendid aroma wafting through the door of Alicia’s bedroom. He could only identify bacon and eggs, but suspected more. He pulled himself together and freshened up, then peeked down the hallway. Women roamed in every direction. He finally saw Alicia charging toward him, lavishing him with a radiant smile.
“Are you hungry?” she said. “Come on, baby, let’s eat.”
Alicia grabbed his hand and led him to the kitchen. There he saw women laying out plates and pouring juice, among them Celia, Danielle, and the lovely young woman from the day before. In addition to bacon and eggs, he discovered ham, pancakes, and grits. A handmade banner was taped across a wall: “TO ALICIA’S ALEXI—WELCOME HOME!” He blushed and grinned as the others greeted him with smiles and hellos.
Suddenly the one who had stirred him the day before stepped in front of him. “I’m mad at you!” she said. “You should have told me who you were, and I wouldn’t have been so formal. But I should have recognized you. I’m Marcia, and I’m your greatest admirer.”
I’ve been admiring you, too, he thought, bashfully grinning. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It seems as though I’ve been apologizing ever since I arrived here.”
“Then apologize to me!” said another woman, pushing Marcia out of the way and placing her hands on her hips. “I’m your Aunt Cathy. Boy, I used to change your diapers. You at least could have told me you were coming.”
Alexi laughed as Alicia began introducing him to the others. After breakfast, Alexi reiterated his desire for Alicia to visit him in Lake Tahoe. He asked if she could come a couple of days later, on Friday morning.
“Okay,” said Alicia, “but can we ski together? I have a particular hill in mind.”
“Sure,” said Alexi, knowing the one she meant.
“And I have one other request,” she said. “The guy who works with you—I think you called him Van on TV—any chance he’s close by?”
“Not far,” said Alexi.
“Why don’t you invite him over?” she said, glancing at Celia. “I would love to meet the man who travels the world with you.”
Alexi saw Celia blush. This is a setup for sure, he thought as he found Van’s number in his wallet and picked up a phone.
“Say, man,” he whispered when Van answered, “I’m in a house full of crazed women who are kissing me to death. I need help. Drop by if you’re not too busy.” Alexi gave Van the address and laughed as he hung up. “He’ll be right over,” he said.