Once Upon A [Stolen] Time - [Stolen] Series I

CHAPTER 11

MYRA
APRIL 2015

I woke to the sound of the car doors opening. Steve courteously opened the passenger door on my side. Neither he nor Tyler said anything. I checked the time. It was six in the evening. I stepped out of the car, noticing my father was watering the flowers in our front yard.

"Hey...you guys are back." He gave his million-dollar smile. Rushing to him, I hugged him tightly as I used to during my childhood when he'd pick me up from school. "What's wrong, sweetie?" That was the sign of a real father. He knew right away that I was upset. I belonged to them—not to some stupid cult.

"Nothing, Papa. I'm just tired."

"Aren't you going to invite your friends in?" he asked with concern, glancing at the blokes behind me. "Come in, Steve. Paula will be so delighted to see you."

"Oh, thank you, Mr Farrow. I think we should go now," I heard him respond. "It's been a long day." I guess he was avoiding me.

"How can you just leave like that?" Mum came out of the front door. "Dinner is almost ready. I won't let my future son-in-law leave without something to eat." She pulled Steve into her arms in a motherly embrace.

"Thank you, Mrs Farrow." He was blushing. "This is my friend Tyler." He gestured towards Tyler.

"Pleasure meeting you, Tyler." She shook hands with him. "And call me Paula, please," she asked Steve. Walking back to the door, she called out to me. "Myra, bring your friends in. I'll be serving dinner in a little while."

Gathering my courage, I turned to them. Mum hadn't given me a chance to say anything, and I didn't want to create a scene in front of my father.

"Please come in," I asked politely, glancing at Steve.

He nodded, following me into the house. The wonderful aroma of homemade food filled our senses.

"Wow! What's cooking?" exclaimed Tyler.

"You've come to the home of the best baker in London." I smiled at Tyler.

Our house was a small three-bedroom bungalow that Mum had decorated with passion. My father was fond of gardening, so our front yard and backyard looked like a mini nursery. Around forty per cent of the main level comprised a kitchen and dinette. My mother was an excellent host, so she loved cooking, baking and arranging parties at our place whenever she had time. I was the polar opposite of her. For me, the definition of a party meant I grab a book, snuggle into my warm sheets and lie awake the whole night reading a thriller. Because of this, I'd never made any close friends.

The boys settled into the dinette area with Papa. Mum watched me with concern as I approached her.

"What's wrong, honey?" she asked, stirring something in the pot on the cooktop. She was making soup, I guess.

"Nothing!"

"There is something. You don't want to share, that's okay, but don't lie to your mother." She knew me so well. Why did I even think she was not my mother? Stupid, stupid Julia's assumptions.

I heard Papa asking Steve about his gaming company. Tyler and Steve were both engrossed in the discussion. My father was perfect when it came to entertaining guests. He had mastered the art over the years for Mum. Before that, he was just like me—grab a book and lie beside a fireplace to read all night.

"You didn't have fun with Steve?" she asked in her motherly tone. I was glad she wasn't looking at me.

"It was good. We had fun." I learned the secrets of a haunted castle.

"That friend of his was with you guys too?"

"Mum!" I almost whispered. "It wasn't a date. Okay?"

"Really? How sad!" She shrugged. "What did you guys do all day, then?"