Twelve - Bloodlines

AS SOON as I arrived back in the hotel, I let down my now dry hair, letting it fall down my back in tousled waves. The next task was finding an outfit appropriate for lunch at Grandmother's estate.

After rummaging through my luggage for a full ten minutes, I finally decided on a pair of light wash boyfriend-fit jeans with the ankle cuffs rolled up to show off my bright teal colored platform pumps. To cover up from the cool weather, I wore a white button-down blouse underneath a grey baggy knitted sweater that fit off the shoulders.

After touching up my makeup which had been ruined by all the crying, I parted my hair down the middle and fixed my curls to frame my face. As I was transferring all my things from my messenger bag to a shoulder purse, namely my phone and wallet, I came across Max's letter.

Not now. I can't read it now, I told myself. I can't afford to break down in tears again. It'll have to wait.

So I took all the things I found in that locker and placed them in the now empty messenger bag. I'll deal with it later.

Picking up my purse and a black wool pea-coat, I walked out of the room and into the elevator.

"Eleanor!" I heard a voice say from behind me in the lobby. I spun around and spotted Simone walking towards me. "There you are! I've been calling you."

"Hey Simone. I'm sorry, but I'm on my way out." She raised an eyebrow and pursed her perfectly tinted lips.

"With Cole?"

"God no, I'm visiting Grandmother," I watched in amusement as a look of horror crossed her eyes. It was safe to say that Simone's uptight perfectionist personality strongly contrasted with Grandmother's free soul. She did what she wanted when she wanted, and always spoke her mind. She was probably the only person on this Earth that didn't find Simone perfect.

Quite the contrary, actually. I'll never forget the time Grandmother told Simone she was acting like she had a stick up her ass. Simone's reaction was priceless.

"Well in that case, I won't keep you. I just came by to drop off my set of keys to the penthouse. You can move in whenever you want." I nodded and took the keys from her.

"Thank you. I will most likely check out tomorrow morning. Leave the address to the penthouse with the concierge, will you?"

"Of course! I'm sure you'll have a lovely time with Grandmother," She sounded so sincere that I almost believed her. Key word being almost.

Rolling my eyes at her, I waved as I walked out of the hotel and in the direction of the car Grandmother had sent to fetch me.

"Miss Eleanor, you're quite the young lady now aren't you?" the driver asked as he opened the door for me. Ahh, that's Felix Kinsella, always the southern gentlemen. "So how've ya been, doll?"

"Thank you, Felix. I am well. I trust you are too." He smiled warmly at me and nodded. Felix might be a little on the old side, but his smile is as charmingly youthful now as it was over thirty years ago.

"Can't complain. Your grandmother is kind to her staff." I watched as the driver rounded the car and got in the front seat.

"All set to go?" he asked. I nodded with a smile and Felix pressed on the accelerator, taking us farther and farther away from Englewood, New Jersey.

"MISS?" I heard a voice say. I frowned but refused to open my eyes. No, I was much too comfortable and warm to wake just yet.

"Miss Eleanor." Slowly, my eyelids fluttered open to take in Felix's warm, wrinkled face. "You fell asleep, miss."

I sat up in the leather back seat and yawned. "Thank you, Felix."

He nodded and offered me his hand to help me out of the car. With a small wave, I walked up the cobblestone steps to the massive double doors. Said doors swung open before I could even ring the doorbell to reveal one of the maids.

There was so many that I gave up trying to learn all their names by the time I was eleven. With a smile, the woman greeted me and took my coat. "Your grandmother is in the dinning room. I presume you know the way."

"Yes, thank you." Walking out of the marble foyer with the huge fountain in the middle, I stepped past the parlor and into the dinning room through two french doors.

"My dear Eleanor!" the lovely voice of my grandmother said as she stood from her chair and walked towards me. She was dressed tastefully in a dove grey trouser with a cream cashmere turtleneck and a peach cape delicately wrapped around her shoulders.

Her aristocratic face brightened when she saw me and gently pulled me into a hug. "You've grown into such a beauty."

I smiled and returned her hug. "Thank you, Grandmother."

She pulled back and ran her hands down my arms maternally, stopping at my forearms. She eyed the diamond encrusted cuff bracelet on my left wrist before looking up into my eyes.

"You still wear it," she said softly. It wasn't a question, but I answered her anyway.

"Yes, every day. I know I didn't say it then, but thank you. For the bracelet, I mean. It was...thoughtful of you, considering the circumstances we were in when you gave it to me."

Grandmother offered me a sad smile before pulling back with a nod. "You know me, darling. I solve everything with a trip to Harry Winston." I ignored her attempt at a joke and sat down to her left.

Although it was just me she was entertaining for lunch, the table was impeccably set. But that was Grandmother: always putting up a show, dressed to impressed, and ever the best hostess.

Grandmother called out to one of her maids and no longer than a second later, two middle-aged women emerged from the door that lead to the kitchen carrying silver trays.

As the maids served the small bowls of salad consisting of fresh greens, walnuts, and cranberries, I looked down the majestic yards long table and couldn't help but remember the last time I was seated here.

It was on Simone's nineteenth birthday party. Simone was born the night before Christmas Eve, and our father always joked that Santa Claus delivered his present early.

I had an argument with my parents about attending that stupid party a few weeks before and ran out during one of their many lectures. That day was the one I met Max.

I had been crying because somehow to my father, my discipline--or lack thereof--ultimately reflected badly on me as an all-around person. I remember being so angry that he dared to compare me to Simone with her present. I always knew in my heart that she was the favourite but actually hearing it out loud, especially with her in the room listening, was too much to bear.

So I fled, and hailed a cab to downtown Englewood where I then wondered the shops until I came across that homey little coffee shop.

I knew I should have been terrified of the consequences of running out of the house like that, but when that handsome barista's gaze locked with mine, I found myself not giving a damn. I was entertained; amused.

He made me feel something besides remorse or boredom. He was fun, magnetic, and funny. He was Max Reiling, the love of my life.

And now he was gone, off to make a new life somewhere far away from where our whirlwind romance took place.

I blinked a few times, coming back to the present. It was then that I realized Grandmother had spoken and was waiting for a response with an amused grin on her face. "I'm sorry, what?"

She laughed and shook her head as if to say 'what will I do with you?' "I asked how everything was. You've been gone for five years dear, the least you can do is let me in the loop of what you've been up to."

"Well," I began in a tense voice. "Perhaps the reason you don't know how I've been in the last five years isn't my fault." From the corner of my eye, I saw her stiffen and drop her gaze to her plate. "But I will say that I've been fine. Not that it really matters to you, or anyone."

"I know you're angry, but you have to understand. I couldn't talk to you--"

"And why not, Grandmother?" I asked heatedly, finally turning to face her.

She stayed quiet, looking off into the garden through the many windows. "You know how our family is. And then there was that argument you had with Bartholomew. I didn't even know if you wanted to me to talk to you."

I said nothing at the mention of Bart, my grandfather. He too was very proud and cut off all communication with me when I blew our lives up.

"That's no excuse, my beautiful Eleanor. I know that. But I simply couldn't contact you. I'm surprised Simone was able to invite you to the wedding. Now that I think about it, how did that child get your parents on board? Unless..."

A bitter, humourless laugh left my lips then as I finished her sentence. "Unless they want something from me now."

Grandmother sighed and reached for her tea cup. Knowing her, there was probably more gin than tea in there. "Those bastards, hurting my little Eleanor like this."

A small smile made its way on my lips. Without uttering the words, Grandmother had apologized to me. And now, it was my turn to repair everything in our relationship.

With that thought in mind, I reached into my back pocket and took out a manila envelope. There were dozens of uncashed checks in there addressed to me that I had been too prideful to use. Even when my rent was due and my landlord threatened to kick me out almost four years ago, or when I was working two jobs. Or even when I used my last few dollars to pay the electric bill and didn't eat a proper meal for a few days. Not once did I touch that money, so there should be at least two million dollars in there.

And now that my paintings were becoming more and more famous, I needed that money even less than when I was just another struggling artist.

I laid the envelope down on the table between us. "What's in there?"

She didn't wait for me to reply. Instead, she reached for it and took out all the checks. Grandmother sighed and shook her head. "You were always the stubborn one, never taking help from anyone. Always behaving as if you had to prove yourself. But never with me, Eleanor. I knew just how goddamn special you were since I first laid eyes on you."

"Thank you. It was so incredible for you to send me money, but I couldn't take it. Not knowing that you went behind everyone's back to try and help me out."

A mystifying smile crossed Grandmother's lips as she brought the tea cup up to take another sip. "What makes you think it was me?"

"I...don't understand," I admitted as I looked down at the envelop. "Those checks are from your bank account."

"Yes, but it wasn't my idea. Your grandfather loves you as much as I do. He was upset about why you did what you did. We both still don't understand why you did it. He said terrible things to you, things he didn't mean. And afterwards," she paused, starring down at my thick bracelet, "when we found out you'd attempted against your life, he didn't know how to reach out to you again."

"So he asked me to talk to you and suggest going overseas. He also made a bank account for your finances in Italy. I didn't know until now that you had never cashed any of the checks."

I was speechless. All this time I'd figured that both my grandparents had stopped speaking to me because they didn't want to, when in reality it was because they didn't know how.

Silent tears clouded my eyesight, and a lump the size of Texas constricted my throat. I wanted to cry, but not because I was upset; these were happy tears. I hadn't lost the two people I truly loved after all. And it felt amazing to know that they still cared for me.

And it was because of that love that they will never know the real reason for why in that dark night in April I slit my wrist. I couldn't cause them that type of pain. The mere shock of the truth of what happened to me that night could be enough to kill them. And I'd never forgive myself for it.

So I'll suffer in silence. It's not like it's any different from what I've been doing for half a decade.

The truth wont set me free. I'll take this secret to the grave, to protect those I love.

THE REST of lunch was pleasant enough. We laughed, we cried. We looked through old pictures and remembered the good times.

Eventually the light disappeared and our lunch date morphed into a late dinner.

We were halfway through the main course when we heard the fall of expensive shoes against the hardwood. The footsteps faltered and Grandmother froze mid-sentence.

Her eyes darted to mine before she forced a relaxed smile. "Bartholomew, sweetheart. You're home! I thought you were in Beijing?"

"Yes, I came home early. To surprise you. I heard interesting news on my trip from Maxton. Apparently, Eleanor was coming home."

I took a deep breath and turned around just as he said, "But I see you already knew that."

"Hello Grandfather," I said in a small voice. He stared at me as if I was a ghost. Like I was part of a dream he couldn't shake off.

"Hello Eleanor." The room was dead silent then. The only sounds that were heard were our breathing, that is until I shoved my chair back and stood.

He watched me walk towards him and I could bet that there was a rumor of tears in his old eyes. Silently, I reached out and hugged him.

My eyes shut painfully tight when his arms wrapped around me in his embrace. His familiar smell of peppermint filled my senses and I couldn't help being transported back to when I was just a child. A small seven year old crying because her Daddy had yelled at her for accidentally spilling his coffee on the pristine white carpet in his office. Or when I was a little older and my mother had gotten upset that I refused to attend Cotillion in a ugly, poofy dress.

Tears sprang to my eyes when flashes of the last time I hugged Grandfather was. It was a week after that night. I was a mess, and no one could understand me quite like Grandfather. He didn't make me talk about it. Just held me until my soar throat got tired of sobbing, or when I ran out of tears. Whichever came first, really. I can't recall which.

I pulled back and stared into his warm, loving gaze. Just like Byron, my father, Grandfather and I shared the same strange colored eyes. It made us unique. A team.

At least I used to think so. But it turned out we weren't. Byron always got his way, and the one time he didn't because of me, he couldn't handle it. So he gave me an ultimatum. Either bow down to his wishes or leave, without my trust fund or any support of my family.

It almost killed me to do it, to leave Max and my grandparents behind, but I did it. I made my choice and left.

And the only thing I regret is not telling Max to come with me. He would have, too. He loved me, enough to drop everything and follow me to the end of the world. But I didn't give him that option. And after finding his farewell message today, I know that I'll never get to apologize for the way I handled things. But wherever he may be, I just hope he one day finds a way to forgive me and to remember me with fondness, and not with regret as I do now.

"My lovely girl, you've come home," Grandfather whispered against my hair. He pressed a kiss to my forehead and stepped back. "We've missed you."

"I've missed you too, Grandfather. A lot." We shared a look, and without having to say anything, he knew he was forgiven for the way we parted over five years ago.

There was no need to speak. The connection my grandparents and I had was stronger than any words they could have chosen for an apology. The type of love we shared was for life, and nothing could ruin it.

Blood is thicker than water, at least in our case. But when it comes to my mother and father, blood is harder to clean up. And what's worse, it leaves a stain.

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A/N: Okay, so reading my story back, I realized I made one point unclear. Bartholomew Mercer and his wife Joanne are Elle's grandparents from her father's side. From her mom's are the poor ones. She used her diseased grandma's name in Italy. That was Corrine Chevalier. Later we'll meet her grandpa on her mother's side. Hopefully that cleared up any confusion because I made a mistake in the first chapter. I fixed it if you guys want to check it out. Thanks!

Also, this is dedicated to samtacularsam for leaving me such a nice commet on the previous update!