s*t*a*r*s (The Kindred Series - 2)

Start from the beginning

            “I think that means ‘go’ in doggy language,” Rylee laughs.  “Okay, you’re right, I got accepted at the last minute, and they can live with me being a little late.  You think I can borrow dad’s luggage?”  She kneels and rubs Shadow’s ears.  “I’m gonna miss you, big fella.”

            Emma smiles, taking a deep breath, and hiding the ambiguous feelings that she is having about her child going off to a school run by Natalie Summers.  Even if she does trust Natalie with her own life, did she trust Natalie with the life of her daughter?

*s*t*a*r*s

            Abigail LeBeau hates to fly.  It is because when she’d been younger, she’d been in a plane accident.  They’d all survived, but it had left a mark on the young woman.  Abby had persistent nightmares about the crash, and had always felt that the crash had been the sign of things to come. 

She is of average height, light brown skin, with eerily luminescent hazel eyes, Abby, as her very few friends called her, is pretty, and very sharp tongued which keeps people at arm’s length. 

            “So you’ll sleep most of the way,” begins her mother, Dr. Darci Haim-LeBeau.  They are in the first class section of a plane leaving Boston’s Logan Airport, heading to San Francisco. 

            “Oh, so if the plane crashes, I’ll sleep right through it,” counters Abby.  Her hands shaking and her mother’s soothing calmness does nothing to ease her mind or her heart.

            “Drama, so much drama,” laughs her father, Wesley, a handsome man, with striking blue eyes.  He casts an odd look to his wife of almost 15 years and sees the fear residing in her eyes.  Things have been cold between them for years and now with Abby leaving, Wes is virtually sure that his wife will be on a plane back to California any day.  Things had begun to spiral when Jo Wheaton had left the fold, and later when Darci had come to Maine with him.  The final nail in the coffin had been the plane crash, it had left a scar deeper than anything Darci Haim could heal.

            “I don’t know why we couldn’t drive,” says Abby.

            “Because Maine to California is a long way to go for a leisurely drive, Abby?  You do need to get over this fear,” instructs her mother, Darci grimaces at her daughter’s child like attitude.

            “Yes, mother,” sighs Abby.  She closes her eyes, sitting back in the plush seat of the airplane, and drifting off into a blissful state of ignorance.

*s*t*a*r*s

            “You could have told me,” says Mike Doyle to his only daughter.  He is cleaning his gun, looking intently at the teenager, who resembles her mother so much, that he routinely has to remind himself to call her Sydney, and not Shelby.  Straw colored blonde hair, the same build, the same strut, and the same zest for life that her mother had.  It doesn’t matter that the girl is  living on the brink of death, she grabs hold of it and doesn’t let go.

            “I didn’t wanna get ya hopes up,” says Sydney with a wry grin.

            “Of you leaving for school?  You’re barely 15!  Why would I want you to leave?” asks the small town Sheriff. 

Mike flexes his hands, knuckles cracking, a soft sigh on his handsome lips.  Ever since Shelby had died, Sydney had been on a path of destruction.  That had been until six months ago.  Then things had changed, she’d found music, she’d found a place where things didn’t have to hurt anymore.  Now she wants to leave, and to go to Haven Island of all the places on earth.  Then again, Mike knows how safe she’d be there.        

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