Forget to Remember

that I wouldn’t know who the parents were or try to look for them—or her. I was good with that then. Now that I want to find them, the doors are closed to me. That’s why I went to this DNA stuff.”
    Carol wanted to keep her at arm’s length. “Other than the DNA match, do you have any reason to believe I’m your daughter?”
    The question seemed to take Victoria by surprise. She looked at Carol for a few seconds before replying. “Well, I guess I don’t have an answer for that. As I said, I haven’t seen her since just after she was born. But whether you’re my daughter or not, you could be. I mean, you’re about the right age, and you might have got your coloring from your dad. I have a proposition for you. Come and live with me and Pete. Learn about the farm. We’ll write you into our wills. That way you won’t have to sponge off people. You’re a little thin, but you’ll flesh out. Farm life will make a woman out of you.”
“I can’t legally work until I find out who I am.”
    “No, no, it wouldn’t be like that. You’d be family. We share everything. Pete loves girls. He’d have made a good father. We had a girl living with us—not a relative. Pretty little thing. We gave her room and board and paid her as well. Pete doted on her. It was a fantastic deal for her. Then she ran off in the middle of the night. Just up and disappeared. Pete was heartbroken. Strangest thing. I assume you wouldn’t do that.”
    Living with them wouldn’t help her find her identity. She doubted she could be named in anybody’s will. Carol looked at the woman, knowing that even though there was a slim possibility they might be related, she had to stay out of her clutches. And Pete’s. She wouldn’t be subservient to anyone. There was a name for what her status would be. It was called slavery.
    ***
    “Let’s review. You were a majorette in your former life. You’re good at math; perhaps you were a teacher. You’ve probably spent time in the United Kingdom, based on some of your knowledge and mannerisms. You’ve apparently done some modeling, at least under an assumed name, and you have a gift for attracting men.” Frances glanced at Rigo as she said this. His expression gave away his feelings for Carol. She hoped he didn’t play poker.
    When she and Rigo had returned to the family room with drinks, the faces of Carol and Victoria had told her all she needed to know. They weren’t exactly hitting it off. It would have been better if they hadn’t met unless the full genome DNA test proved to be a match. When Frances found out what Victoria had proposed to Carol, she backed Carol one hundred percent and made sure Victoria was driving back to Fresno within half an hour. Frances had formed a negative impression of her when she showed up, unannounced. Hopefully, they were rid of her.
    Carol looked as pretty as ever, except for the bandage on her arm. However, once Frances got over her shock at the story of how she had received the wound she realized it wasn’t that bad. Frances sipped her iced tea and contemplated the bandage. “Somebody wants you dead, which, I suspect, is the reason you were found in a Dumpster. This is beginning to look more like a murder mystery than a search for identity—although the would-be murderer was unsuccessful, thank goodness. I don’t know how I can help with that unless he left some DNA…”
    Rigo shook his head. “He took the gun with him, and all he touched were bushes. I couldn’t identify the car well enough to help, and no suspicious characters were found in the area. It looks like he made a clean getaway.”
    “Unfortunately, Carol, what we know about you isn’t enough to distinguish you from thousands of other young women. Your haplogroup, or clan, indicates your ancestry in your mother’s line is European, but that’s just a tad better than saying you belong to the human race.”
    “So, if I have Japanese ancestry, it must be through my father.”
    “Chances are. Which is why I was willing to consider Victoria might be your mother and your coloring might be from Hispanic genes by way of your father. Well, of course, she still might be your mother.”
    “I hope not.”
    Frances laughed. “Your case isn’t sufficiently unusual yet to receive wide press coverage or to get you on Good Morning, America . Perhaps if you still don’t know who you are five years from now…”
    “Oh, God, that would be worse than knowing Victoria is my mother.” Carol