InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Purity 8: Vendetta ❯ The Story of a Girl ( Chapter 70 )

~~Chapter 70~~

~The Story of a Girl~

 

-=0=-

 

 

Samantha smiled but didn't open her eyes right away as she savored the encompassing feeling that everything just felt perfect. Snuggled against Kurt's side with the child nestled between them—more like on top of them . . . it felt like the most natural thing in the world, didn't it?

 

She couldn't credit it; not really. Somewhere deep down, she couldn't help but feel like maybe it was all a dream—a beautiful and fantastic dream . . . a dream that she wanted to hold onto forever . . .

 

But the girl wiggled around, burying her face against Samantha's chest with a contented sigh, as though there was no place else she'd rather be, either, and Samantha's smile widened. Such a gorgeous little girl with her mysterious gaze . . . Something about those eyes spoke to Samantha in whispers and giggles, didn't they? There was something wholly familiar about the child that Samantha understood, even if she couldn't really put a name on the why of it.

 

The girl sat up suddenly, her face registering the vacant sort of expression that was entirely unavoidable when one first woke up. Samantha laughed softly, reaching out to smooth the toddler's hair. “Morning, sweetie,” she said in a low tone, so as not to disturb Kurt.

 

The girl blinked, her gaze slowly focusing on Samantha's face as a bright little smile solidified with the clarity. “Tanny?” she asked hopefully, clapping her little hands in anticipation.

 

Samantha laughed again. “Oh, it's too early for that,” she chided without rancor.

 

The child's face scrunched up in a formidable pout. “Tanny,” she repeated.

 

“Mmm,” Kurt groaned but didn't open his eyes. “Check the little demon's pocket, Stinky-butt . . . Something was poking me all night,” he mumbled. “I'm going back to sleep.”

 

“That's hardly a decent name,” Samantha pointed out but giggled when the girl started groping pockets for the candy that Kurt had mentioned. It didn't take her long to find the last Dum-Dum pop that Samantha had, and it took even less time for her to unwrap it and stuff it into her mouth.

 

“Maybe not, but it is entirely appropriate,” he argued.

 

She wrinkled her nose. “So what would you have called me if I didn't have a name?” she countered.

 

Kurt snorted, the barest hint of a smile quirking the corners of his lips. “Benji,” he replied.

 

Samantha gasped and sat up, turning her incredulous gaze on him. “B-Benji?” she echoed. “You're so mean!”

 

He chuckled, stubbornly refusing to open his eyes. “Sounds about right,” he tossed back carelessly.

 

She heaved a sigh designed to let him know exactly what she thought of that, but couldn't help her own little smile as a flood of warmth surged through her. His laughter . . . she loved it . . .

 

“Tanny!” the toddler chimed in. She laughed, too, though she had that kind of look on her face that a child tended to get whenever they were laughing just because the adults were.

 

“Go back to sleep, Stinky-butt,” Kurt grumbled though the little smile on his face didn't fade.

 

“Tanny, tanny, tanny!” she insisted, bouncing on her knees, rocking the entire bed.

 

Samantha giggled and laid back down again, content to savor the warmth of Kurt's body so close to hers. On a whim, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. His eyes shot open as a light flush surfaced on his skin, and she couldn't resist the urge to kiss him again before he could protest out of sheer habit.

 

He seemed to hesitate, just for a moment, but returned the kiss with a gentle pressure. She felt as though time stood still, and with a soft sigh, she snuggled just a little closer.

 

Sensing that both adults were completely ignoring her, the child whined in protest and climbed onto Kurt's stomach before resuming her bouncing, much to his dismay. “Ungh,” he muttered, breaking away from Samantha's kiss with a grimace. “She's trying to break me.”

 

Samantha laughed a little shakily but rolled off the bed and held out her arms. “Come on, you,” she said, encouraging the girl. “Let's go get dressed, and we'll find some breakfast, okay?”

 

She seemed to be a little torn between the idea of bedeviling Kurt a little longer and going with Samantha. Samantha heaved a melodramatic sigh and slowly shook her head. “All right,” she allowed, making a show of letting her shoulders slump in defeat. “Guess I'll have to eat breakfast alone . . . and I guess I'll have to go to the store afterward to get candy for myself, too . . .”

 

That seemed to do the trick. The child's head snapped up as she pondered this concept. In the end, she hopped off the bed to dart after Samantha, who had paused in the doorway to wink at Kurt and wiggle her fingers before she slipped out of the room.

 

The girl babbled all the way down the hallway as the two headed for the stairs. Samantha needed a shower, and she knew from her own experience that the only way to get the child to wash up was to coax her into the shower with her. She couldn't say that she minded it, but she did have to wonder exactly how Kurt had handled that particular ritual when he'd brought her across the country. The sudden and very clear image of the taijya's face if the girl had insisted upon showering with him was enough to make her laugh.

 

“Tanny, tanny, tanny, tanny, tanny!” she sang as she skipped along beside Samantha.

 

“You're just the sweetest thing,” Samantha remarked with a bright smile. The little girl turned up her face to smile back. “Okay, so we'll get you cleaned up, fed, and then you and I will . . . will sneak off to town before anyone can stop us . . . How's that?”

 

The child seemed to approve of the idea well enough, and Samantha heaved a sigh as her own smile faded just a little. Sneaking off to town . . . that might be a bigger task than it sounded like. After all, she hadn't actually done any such thing since she'd been home since everyone and their uncle seemed to be dead set against her retaining any portion of her independence . . .

 

“That's what we'll do, huh?” she whispered conspiratorially. “We'll sneak off to town . . .”

 

The little girl smiled and hopped up and down. “Yeah,” she whispered happily.

 

Samantha scooped her up and cuddled her against her chest as she headed down the stairs with a little giggle since she was quite sure that the child had absolutely no idea what Samantha was talking about.

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

`So far, so good . . .'

 

Gripping the steering wheel a little tighter, Samantha told herself to relax despite her rapidly fraying nerves. It was going well, even if she was a little nervous—more nervous than she'd expected to be. She'd done well during the short taxi ride from the end of the driveway where she'd requested to be picked up, all the way into town where she'd given directions to her apartment, thankful that she'd taken a taxi to the airport that fateful day last fall. Her car was sitting where she always parked it, and though it had been a little rough when she'd first tried to start it, it hadn't taken long for it to smooth out again as she made a mental note to make an appointment for a tune up sometime soon.

 

In fact, the girl had done remarkably well in the taxi, too, which had helped to assuage Samantha's nervousness. Mesmerized by watching the rainbows of light reflected by the crystal prisms hanging from the rearview mirror, she'd sat quietly for the entire trip. She hadn't even asked for candy until Samantha was fastening her into the back seat of her car . . .

 

Tamping down the surge of guilt that shot through her as she glanced into the rearview mirror to make sure that the girl was still buckled into the built-in child booster seat, Samantha told herself for the hundredth time since they'd stepped off of Zelig land that everything was fine—just fine—as she carefully negotiated the streets she knew so well in the car she'd bought shortly after moving to Maine.

 

It had been strangely easy to slip out of the mansion, hadn't it? Unsettling, really . . . Why had she expected it to be so much more difficult? It wasn't as though she was actually being kept there against her will, and she knew that. Still, the panic that her parents both tried to hide from her the few times she'd mentioned going into town alone for any reason whatsoever had been more than enough to curb her will, as far as that was concerned.

 

And yet . . .

 

And yet, she couldn't help the trill of trepidation that tied her stomach in knots, either—the ungrounded feeling that she was doing something very, very wrong. In a twisted sort of sense, it was almost as though she'd traded her forced confinement to one of a voluntary nature at the Zelig compound, and that thought, as unwelcome as it was . . . It was true, wasn't it? She'd told herself that she didn't want to hurt her family, and while that was true enough, that certainly wasn't the entire long and short of it; not by a long shot. No, she'd allowed herself to be kept under surveillance, as it were, and while the reasons for it were so very different, the end result was the same, wasn't it? A mental crutch that she thought she needed, and now . . .

 

Now was the time to prove to herself that she didn't; that she could walk outside any time she wanted, that she didn't need to fear anyone or anything . . .

 

It was the sense of freedom, wasn't it? It was foreign and unfamiliar to her despite the underlying knowledge that no one had really tried to inhibit her, at least, not in that sense—not anymore. It also made her wonder if those months she'd spend in confinement had gotten her too used to the restrictions, so much so that she'd unconsciously sought the same sort of thing from her family, albeit in a completely different way—and that . . . that infuriated her. It had been simple at the mansion—simple to think that the hovering, the constant though understated sense of worry was unnecessary even as she endured it. She'd honestly believed that they were all being ridiculous, but . . .

 

But they were right, at least to a point. Maybe she wasn't as all right as she wanted to believe . . .

 

Wrinkling her nose as she turned into the department store parking lot, Samantha couldn't help but notice that the normally crowded lot was blessedly empty. It was just after eight in the morning, and she supposed that she had just come out earlier than most everyone else. Pulling into a space and killing the engine, Samantha blinked as she stared at her hand, trembling like the last autumn leaf, clinging to the branch with all its might as a stronger gust of wind whipped up to tear it away from its hold . . .

 

`Stop that, dollbaby,' her youkai voice chided. `Think of this as therapy . . .'

 

`Therapy . . .' Samantha repeated with a frown. `Yes; all right . . .'

 

That's what it was, wasn't it? This trip . . . it really was more therapy than anything else. Candy and maybe a couple toys, she'd thought when she'd first thought of the idea. Now, though, she realized that she hadn't wanted to go to the store nearly as much as she'd needed to take that first step away from her family's careful, if not somewhat overbearing, affection and protection. She needed to do this for herself, didn't she? To prove to herself that she really would be all right, and even if she couldn't stand it for long, she could do it, couldn't she? Of course she could . . .

 

“Tanny?” the child piped up, grunting as she fussed with the seatbelt that held her in place.

 

Blinking away the doubts that lingered in the back of her mind, Samantha took a deep breath and opened the door. “Just a second, sweetness,” she said in a bright, happy voice.

 

She bumped the door closed with her hip and drew another deep, steadying breath, pressing her hand against her belly as though to control her own sense of nervousness, then opened the back door to get the child.

 

It bothered her that she didn't have a proper name, but they'd all agreed that it might be best to allow the Conors—the couple who were interested in adopting her—to have that honor. They'd been out to the mansion a couple of times to meet the girl, and someone had advised them to bring candy, so that had helped, too. Still, it bothered Samantha more than she could credit. Everyone needed a name, didn't they? It was the first step to creating and defining one's identity, right? The girl needed that, especially now . . .

 

But the child just smiled brightly at Samantha and held up her arms to be picked up. Samantha laughed despite her troubled thoughts and scooped her up, planting a loud kiss on the toddler's downy soft cheek. “Would you like a baby doll?” Samantha asked as she carried the girl toward the building.

 

“Tanny!” she insisted, clapping her hands.

 

“Of course,” Samantha agreed.

 

The sudden blare of a car horn in the distance made her jump, and the child jerked and threw herself against Samantha's shoulder. Samantha's heart lurched violently as a rush of adrenaline made her knees go weak, and she grimaced when the girl whimpered.

 

“It's—it's okay,” Samantha heard herself saying in a much calmer tone than she felt. “It was just a car, baby. Just a car . . .”

 

She whined a little more, refusing to loosen her grip. Samantha rather understood that feeling, too. `Quit that,' she told herself sternly. `She's relying on me . . . I have to be strong for her . . .'

 

The pep talk helped some, and Samantha let out a deep breath, pausing for just a moment before she stepped through the automatically sliding doors.

 

“Good morning! Oh, what a sweetheart!” the elderly greeter called out to them as they entered the store. “Do you mind if I give her a lollipop?”

 

Samantha swallowed hard and forced a wan smile then nodded. “Uh, okay,” she allowed, jostling the girl against her shoulder. “You want a candy, baby?”

 

The mention of candy got the child's attention, and she turned her face just enough to stare at the older woman who was holding out a red and white swirled Life Saver lollipop. “Tanny?” she asked, eyeing the woman a little dubiously.

 

Samantha managed a weak laugh. “It's all right,” she assured her.

 

The candy seemed to be the magical fix, and the girl was more than happy to let Samantha settle her into the front of a cart while she tugged on the plastic wrapper. “Thank you,” Samantha called back as she shot the woman a somewhat timid smile and pushed the cart along.

 

The trill of her cell phone nearly made her jump out of her skin. Moving the cart to the side out of the way, she dug the device out of her purse and bit her lip, not at all surprised to see her father's name on the small display. “Hello?”

 

“Sami? Where are you?” he asked in a much calmer tone than she had been expecting, and while it did sound rather contrived, it did not sound angry.

 

“I'm at the store,” she replied in what she hoped was a very casual sort of way. “The little one wanted candy, and I wanted to get a toy or two for her, too.”

 

He didn't respond right away, as though he needed to figure out exactly how to say whatever he was thinking.

 

“We won't be gone long,” she assured him quickly in an effort to forestall whatever lecture he was about to impart her.

 

“I know, dollbaby,” he finally said. “Next time, though, tell someone before you go, okay?”

 

“Papa—”

 

“Just humor us, please?”

 

She sighed. “I needed to do this,” she admitted.

 

Kichiro sighed, too. “I know. I'll tell your mama where you are, all right?”

 

Grimacing at the not-so-subtle reminder, she let out a deep breath. “I'm sorry.”

 

“Don't apologize, Sami. Just be careful.”

 

“I will,” she allowed. “I'll be home soon.”

 

“Okay. Love you.”

 

“Love you, too.”

 

She closed her phone and dropped it back into her purse. Certainly she could understand their concern, and she loved them for it. She also didn't doubt that he could appreciate her need to do this. He was entirely too perceptive that way.

 

“Sami! Hi!”

 

Samantha jumped and whirled around as her heart lurched wildly yet again. Madison Cartham, Evan's best friend, rushed over. “M-Maddy . . . I didn't know you were in town,” she intoned, trying to cover up her fluster before it could be discerned.

 

Madison smiled and gave her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You're thin,” she said with a hint of concern in her tone. “Don't you dare try to tell me that Gin's not feeding you, because I won't believe it—Oh! Who is this?” she demanded as her already brilliant smile widened even more, as her gaze fell on the child. “Hello, precious. What's your name?”

 

The girl drew away and grabbed the front of Samantha's shirt, burying her face in the old, childish belief that if she couldn't see someone, then he or she couldn't see her, either.

 

“Aww, she's shy, huh?” Madison said.

 

“Uh . . . Kurt brought her with him,” Samantha explained. “She's . . . she's not used to everything just yet, but she's getting there . . .”

 

“Oh, but she's just the sweetest thing, ever,” Madison insisted.

 

Samantha finally smiled—a real smile that was much closer to normal than the strained ones she'd been forcing. “She is.”

 

“And this Kurt? Evan said that you told him that he's your mate.”

 

Samantha nodded. She couldn't tell from Madison's tone whether or not Evan had told her anything else, but as close as the two were, it was safe to assume that she knew everything that he did. “He is,” Samantha admitted cautiously as she dug a roll of Life Savers out of her purse. She unwrapped them just a little and offered one to the child.

 

“And is he good-looking?” Madison quipped.

 

Samantha smiled a little bashfully as she pushed the cart down the main aisle with Madison beside her, heading for the toy department. “Of course . . .”

 

Madison laughed. “Good.”

 

“So why are you in Maine?” Samantha asked, mostly to change the subject because, while she didn't expect that Madison would say anything disparaging against Kurt—she simply wasn't that kind of person—Samantha just didn't want to take that chance, either.

 

Madison rolled her eyes and waved a hand dismissively. “Daddy got an old musket at an estate sale awhile back, and he's been dying to show it to me, so . . .”

 

That made Samantha laugh as the girl pried her hand open to get at more candy. She didn't miss the wary glances that the girl kept stealing at Madison, and she ruffled her hair in a reassuring sort of way. The child must have figured that Madison was all right, though, since Samantha was talking to her, so she didn't hide her face again.

 

“So you came home to see an old rifle?”

 

“Not just any rifle, Sami! A genuine Civil War, Springfield rifle musket; not a replica. Daddy says it needs some restoration work, but it's in excellent condition, overall, and he knows a guy down in Georgia who can fix it up . . .”

 

Sami shook her head. Madison Cartham might look like a thoroughly cosmopolitan woman, but thanks to her gun-happy father, she knew more about firearms than most men. “So you aren't here to see Evan?” she teased.

 

Madison laughed. “No, but I suppose that I could drag myself away from the musket long enough to say hello . . .”

 

Samantha relaxed slowly. It helped, didn't it? Helped to be with someone who wasn't hovering and wasn't related to her, and while she knew that Madison probably had things that she wanted to ask, the woman was far too tactful to do that. Either way, it didn't matter, did it? Talking to Madison was enough to keep her preoccupied—enough to help her accomplish the task she'd set for herself . . .

 

 

-OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO-

 

 

Samantha leaned back on her hands in the grass under the green canopy of the unfurled leaves of the towering ash tree. The girl had worn herself out, chasing bubbles that Samantha had blown from the cheap yellow plastic bubble wand in the ninety-seven cent plastic bottle of solution. She'd tried to eat them, much to Samantha's amusement, and when she'd finally figured out that bubbles weren't candy, she'd used her new teddy bear to swat at the bubbles, instead.

 

When she'd had enough of that, though, she'd sort of crashed, huddling against Samantha with her head in her lap, content to nap right there in the midday breeze.

 

It had taken a couple hours to completely relax after the hold of anxiety she'd felt all morning, and as much as it irritated her that she'd feel that way in the town where she'd spent the last few years of her life; a town that she'd come to know over the years of her childhood, she had told herself that she'd be fine, too. In retrospect, though, she realized that she'd wanted to take the child along as a bit of a catalyst, of sorts. In the beginning, she'd told herself that the girl needed to become accustomed to going out in public and doing the things that normal children did, but in hindsight . . . It was because of her, wasn't it? Samantha had been able to be braver for her. She'd been able to force herself to deal with her own feelings because the little one had relied upon her for comfort, and maybe in the end, they'd actually helped each other.

 

“How did it go?”

 

Samantha blinked and looked up as Bellaniece sank down beside her, her eyes still bright with unspoken worry, and Samantha smiled as she idly stroked the snoozing child's hair. “It went well,” she allowed with a wan smile. “I ran into Maddy, so she stayed with us in the store.”

 

“Good, good . . .”

 

Samantha bit her lip as she stared at her mother. There was something else on her mind, she could tell, and she seemed to be trying to come up with a good way to say it. Samantha didn't try to avoid it, though, waiting patiently as Bellaniece gathered her thoughts. “Sweetie . . .”

 

She continued to wait after her mother trailed off. Tugging blades of grass, Bellaniece looked so thoughtful, almost sad, that Samantha heaved a sigh.

 

“Your father and I . . . we're a little worried about you spending so much time with . . . with them,” she finally finished. “You slept in his room last night, didn't you? With him and her . . .?”

 

“Does it matter?” Samantha countered quietly, shaking her head as she frowned at her parents' concerns. “I should spend time with him, shouldn't I? He's my mate . . .”

 

“Samantha . . .”

 

“Mama, you and Papa didn't raise me to be stupid, and you never tried to make my decisions for me, either. I know what my heart tells me. Kurt's the one.”

 

Her answer didn't look as though it pleased Bellaniece. “But you must be sure,” she said quietly. “It's not something you can do lightly, you know? Don't choose him out of some sort of—of feelings that you owe him for releasing you from that place . . . Don't think that you owe him that much. We're talking about the rest of your life, Samantha . . .”

 

She smiled suddenly and shook her head as she toyed with the girl's baby-fine hair. “Mama . . . I am sure. I know that you two are scared to death that I'm not, but I am . . . Kurt's the only thing I am sure of . . . I wish . . . I wish you could see what I do, Mama. I . . . I want to make him smile and laugh and remember all those things . . . the kinds of things that you give Papa: that's what I want for him to have, too.”

 

Bellaniece looked even more torn, as though she were caught somewhere in the middle, somewhere between Kichiro and Samantha in the silent strain that Samantha had sensed, too. Bellaniece sighed and slowly shook her head, her blue eyes darkened by whatever emotion she was struggling to deal with. “I trust you, sweetie,” she said quietly. “It's not that I don't . . . but when I think about that . . . that place—about what they did to you . . . and when I think that the reason you were there was because he—”

 

“He didn't know me, Mama, and . . . and he has his reasons for hating our kind,” Samantha interrupted gently. “I . . . I can't tell you because it's not my story, but . . . but if I can accept it, why can't you?”

 

She let out a deep breath, managed a wry smile. “That's not all of it, Sami . . . This girl . . .”

 

Samantha laughed softly. “You know, she really does believe that Kurt is her daddy . . .”

 

Bellaniece frowned. “But he's not.”

 

“I know.”

 

Bellaniece shook her head. “Do you?” she asked quietly. “I mean, I have to wonder . . .”

 

“You think I'm getting too attached to her,” Samantha finished quietly when her mother trailed off. Staring down at the sleeping girl as she ran the back of her fingers over her cheek, she smiled, albeit a little sadly. “I know. You're probably right, but . . . But I see things in her . . . things that I might have become if I'd been forced to stay there longer . . . and I can't help but love her.”

 

“But she's got a family who wants her,” Bellaniece pointed out, trying her hardest to choke back her emotions, “and . . . and it's probably the best thing for her—a stable family who will raise her in a normal home—one where there are no c-cages and no limits . . .”

 

“I want that for her, too,” Samantha admitted. “It's just . . . I wonder . . . If she wakes up in the middle of the night because of a bad dream . . . if she cries and clings to them because she's frightened and doesn't understand . . . Even if they're good people, are they really going to understand her? Are they going to know what she sees in the darkness? And how in the world will they fight against monsters that only she knows?”

 

Bellaniece didn't answer that, but she did look quite pained. Samantha understood that expression well enough. It was the look of a mother who didn't understand but who desperately wanted to, and for some reason, that expression only served to make Samantha a little sadder, only made her feel a little further away . . .

 

“Even if I can't keep her, I can't help but love her,” Samantha said quietly, blinking rapidly as a sheen of tears filled her eyes. “There's nothing wrong with that, is there?”

 

Bellaniece sighed and scooted a little closer, close enough to toy with the sleeping child's hair. “No, there's nothing wrong with that,” she said in a strange tone of voice.

 

Something about that tone drew her attention, and she looked up, frowning at the strange sense of recognition that was awash in her gaze, a bittersweet sort of sadness tinged with an air of inevitability. “That's how I've felt,” she admitted, her voice husky, raw, and she smiled just a little. “Every time one of you girls left home . . . that's what I've felt, too . . .”

 

“Mama . . .”

 

Bellaniece laughed softly, waved away Samantha's concern. Just as quickly as the smile came, though, it dissolved, and she sighed. “I don't know if I can like him,” she confessed. “Even if he is your mate, I don't know if I can forgive him for what he took it upon himself to do . . .”

 

Samantha tried to hide the upset inspired by her mother's candid admittance. “I'm not asking you to forgive him, Mama. What I'm asking you is to trust me.”

 

Bellaniece's expression blanked, as though she hadn't considered that before.

 

“I love him, Mama. There are things about him that are wonderful—beautiful . . . things that I don't think he even realizes he has inside. From the moment I met him, I felt this . . . connection . . . like a part of me knew him, and despite everything, I wasn't afraid; not with him.” She shook her head, smiled down at the child. “He loves me . . . and that's enough for me.”

 

“Enough for you,” Bellaniece repeated thoughtfully. “Oh, Sam . . .”

 

She smiled and reached out, wiping away a single tear that trailed down Bellaniece's cheek. “I love you, and I love Papa . . . but I love Kurt, too. That's okay, isn't it?”

 

She didn't look entirely convinced, but at least she looked as though she were finally listening to Samantha. That was enough, wasn't it? And while it hurt to think that her parents might never really accept Kurt in the same way that they accepted Griffin and even John, even though he had yet to officially become Alexandra's mate, Samantha had to allow that she could understand that, too, and that . . . that would be all right. Kurt would show them all, wouldn't he? He'd prove himself eventually, and maybe they'd at least understand what it was that she saw in him . . .

 

 

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Final Thought from Samantha:

That wasn't so bad …

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Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Vendetta): I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga. Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al. I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.

 

~Sue~