My father set his hand on her arm. "Don't."

"She needs to know. It's time." She drew in a breath and laced her fingers with his. "I was only a few weeks from delivering. I'd never gotten that far along, so I didn't realize. How could I? The baby didn't move like babies do."

I didn't like the way this story was headed, but I had to know. As she'd said, it was time.

"I went into labor at home. It was hard, fast. I had her here. She was-" Her voice broke.

"Stillborn," my father said. "I suppose we should have called the doctor, the hospital. I don't know. We didn't. I ... couldn't. We buried her near the others."

I didn't realize I'd taken Owen's hand again until his fingers tightened around mine, and I clung. "And then?"

"I would visit the grave every day," my mom said. "Then one morning I heard a baby crying."

She paled and her lips trembled. I understood. She'd thought she was crazy. Who wouldn't?

"I followed the sound and-" She swallowed, smiled. "There you were. Naked, without even a blanket. It was July, but still."

Raye's words-almost exactly.

"You were in the woods alone. No note. Nothing."

"They didn't deserve you," my father said. "So we made you ours."

I saw how it had happened. My mother had been expecting, then she had a baby. Why would anyone doubt that the child Pam Carstairs presented to the world as hers wasn't?

"No one ever came asking questions? No news reports of a missing baby?"

"No," my mother said.

In a normal world, someone should have been searching for me. But if I'd time-traveled from the past, not so much.

"It never occurred to me that you were a twin," my mother continued.

Triplet, but who was counting?

"Where was the other girl...?" Mom tilted her head. "What's her name?"

"Raye."

"Where was Raye found?"

"Side of the interstate between Madison and Eau Claire. Near New Bergin."

"That's a hundred and fifty miles from here. Why would they separate you like that?"

"The farther apart the babies were left, the less likely anyone would connect them," Owen said. "It's a lot harder to find two separate mothers of unrelated children than it is to find one mother of twins. Even harder to find a dumped baby that was never reported as dumped."

"So how did Raye find us?" my father asked.

I wasn't touching that question. Not now. Hopefully not ever.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I glanced between the two of them. "I was teased all my life for being adopted."

"Would it have made things better if I'd told you that you were?" my mother asked. "You didn't feel as though you belonged already."

"Because I didn't."

"You did," she insisted. "You do. You're my child. My firstborn. I waited years for you."

Had my mother kept the truth from me because she couldn't accept it herself? Had she replaced that dead child in her heart and mind with me and in so doing made what had happened fade away?

"I'm not her," I said softly. "You buried her in the woods."

"I know who you are. Just because I didn't give birth to you myself doesn't make you any less mine. Once I had you, I was..." She made a motion with her hands, looking for a word to describe that feeling. "Whole. Healed. You used to pat my stomach and call for a brother or sister. Every pregnancy after you came to live with us went to term. It was a miracle."

Or magic.

What could I say? Maybe I had healed her.

"You still should have told me."

"Why?" My father spread his big, hard hands wide. "Someone tossed you away to die in the forest."

"That makes it all right to lie, commit fraud, and kidnap a child?" Owen asked.

"I told you he shouldn't hear this," my father said.

"Owen won't tell anyone." I squeezed his hand. "Right?"

"Don't you want to know who your real parents are?"

I already did, but I wasn't going to share.

"That's a problem for another day. I'm a little preoccupied with figuring out who tried to kill me."

"Shouldn't the police be doing that?" my mother asked.

"Deb has a lot on her plate."

Animal mutilations. Peggy's murder. Owen's mom running amok.

"How is it that your twin sister shows up in town the same day someone tries to kill you?" my dad asked.

"It wasn't her."

"You're sure?"

"Raye is the same height and weight as me. Whoever put the pillow over my face was a lot bigger."

Mistress June size.

"Still wouldn't trust her. Just because she's your blood doesn't make her blood."

That might sound like gibberish, but I knew what he meant. There was a bond in a family that went beyond DNA. I'd shared everything with the Carstairs, and I loved them. But, oddly, or maybe not now that I knew the truth, I'd never felt related to them. Yet the instant I'd seen Raye La.r.s.en, I'd known we shared more than the same nose and mouth. We shared parents and a past.

"I have to go."

"Don't," my mother said. "Not yet. Please."

"Mom, I have to think."

Her eyes filled. "You called me 'Mom.'"

"You are my mom. Nothing will change that. But I have to go back to town."

"With him?" My dad's gaze was on Owen.

"He brought me," I pointed out. "I don't have much choice."

"You do, Becca. You always had a choice."

I was starting to think I'd never really had much choice at all. I'd been born a witch. Just because I hadn't known it hadn't made the magic go away.

My parents claiming me as theirs hadn't changed who I was. My name might be Carstairs on paper, and in my heart because of my love for them, but deep down, where blood boiled and the soul lived, I was a Taggart.

In the same way, Owen's leaving hadn't changed a thing. I still loved him. Always had, always would. Couldn't stop. There was such a thing as destiny, and I had found mine. Or maybe it had found me.

"I'll call you."

The tears in my mother's eyes spilled over. I felt awful. I didn't want to hurt her. There were far greater crimes than love. But right now, I had to go.

Outside, Owen whistled and Reggie came running. I opened the car door; he jumped in. It wasn't until I followed that I saw a tuft of fur hanging out the side of his mouth.

"He's got something," I said as Owen slid behind the wheel.

Before I could open the door and bail, Owen ordered, "Aus."

Reggie opened his mouth. I let out a tiny squeak as what I really hoped was not a rodent fell into my lap. It had been thoroughly drooled upon and would have resembled a drowned rat if it hadn't been calico.

"Kitten," I said.

Mine.

I glanced at Reggie. He didn't seem the type to have a pet or a pal.

"Did he hurt it?"

I picked her up. "Not a mark on her except for the drool. He was carrying her very gently, almost as if he were afraid she might explode."

Splode.

Aha.

"She is about the size of a grenade," Owen said. "She kind of looks like a camo cat too."

Soaking wet, she kind of did.

"I should put her back with her mom." I got out of the car. Reggie went wild.

No! Mine! Granate!

My father stepped onto the porch. "What in blue blazes is going on out here?"

"Reggie had a kitten in his mouth." I held her out.

"Ah, her. That one's mama died. There were only two in the litter and another cat took in the brother. This one..." He shrugged. "She's weaned and on her own. Haven't seen her in a while. Thought she might be hawk food. She will be if she keeps wanderin' off."

This was usually the way I ended up with fosters. It was me-or the hawk.

I took her with me to the car. Reggie immediately stopped barking and nosed the kitten. Instead of lifting her back like a Halloween cat, she licked his nose.

Mama.

I bit back my laughter as Reggie preened.

Mine. Granate.

"What does granate mean?"

Owen cast me an odd glance. "Where'd you hear that?"

I glanced at Reggie, who was now licking the kitten like any good mama would. "Around. Why?"

"Granate is German for grenade."

Chapter 21.

Owen wasn't sure what to say to Becca. It wasn't every day you discovered you were abandoned in the forest.

"Is that your cat now?" he asked.

"I think she's Reggie's."