Read Online The Enchanter Heir by Cinda Williams Chima - Free Book Online Page A

than me,” he said. “Guess you think people just stay the same when you’re not looking at them.”
    “How’d you recognize me?” she asked.
    “You favor your mama,” Tyler said. “And Sonny Lee sent pictures, now and then. Though not lately.”
    “He said you were dead.”
    Tyler chewed his lower lip, as if embarrassed not to be. “Not yet.”
    “He knew exactly where you were all this time?” Emma’s voice trembled. “And he never told me?” Hurt and betrayal washed over her once again.
    “That was the deal between him and me,” Tyler said. “He insisted that there be no contact.”
    “Why? Are you some kind of a—a—pedophile, or—”
    “No,” Tyler said. “Nothing like that. I made some bad choices, is all. He was pissed, when I handed you off to him.”
    Emma recalled Sonny Lee’s letter. I’ll be straight with you: I wasn’t happy when you first came to me. “I know it was— must’ve been burdensome, having me to look after,” she said, her voice trembling in spite of herself. “But it—it seemed like we got along good. Later on, I mean.”
    Tyler rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. “When I said he was pissed, I meant he was pissed at me, not you. None of it was your fault.” He hesitated, then hurried on. “If you knew the whole story, you’d—”
    “Why don’t you tell me that story?” Emma said, sitting back in her chair and looking her father in the eye. “I got no plans.”
    Tyler gazed at her, a muscle working in his jaw. Thinking thinking thinking. “So the old man never told you nothing, did he?”
    “I didn’t even know you existed,” Emma said.
    Tyler snorted. “There was no one could carry a grudge like my old man. He was the most stubborn—”
    “I know enough about Sonny Lee,” Emma said. “I want to hear about you.” She paused and, when he said nothing, asked, “If you’re Sonny Lee’s son, then what’s with the name Boykin?”
    “That’s a stage name. I’m a musician.”
    Of course you are, Emma thought. “What’s wrong with Greenwood?”
    “I don’t use that name anymore.”
    “How did you meet my mother?”
    Tyler did that flicker-eyed thing that people do when they’re choosing between a truth, a half-truth, or a lie. “We met at a club in New York. I was in a band, and we had a regular gig there at that time.”
    “What do you play?” Emma couldn’t help asking.
    “Guitar,” Tyler said. “Bass guitar, mostly, these days. I do some teaching, too. Anyway, your mama started coming to see us, and one thing led to another, and we got married.”
    “What was she like?”
    “Your mother?” Tyler shook his head. “She was a beautiful woman. Me, I was head over heels in love with her. After I met Gwen, there was nobody else. We had some good times, that’s for sure.” He paused. “I’ll tell you one thing— she was crazy about you.”
    That thought warmed her a little. “Do you have any pictures?”
    Tyler dug out his wallet, flipping it open to a photo taken in one of those coin-operated photo booths. Gwen stood in front, holding Emma, who was the best dressed of the three of them. Tyler stood behind with his arms draped around both of them, as if to pin them to the earth. Her mother’s head was cocked so she could look down into Emma’s face. SHer hair was as pale as sapwood ash, her eyes a clear gray.
    The photo was crinkled and worn, like it had been pulled out and looked at thousands of times.
    Emma looked up from the photo and found Tyler gazing at her. “Like I said, you remind me of her. Oh, I know your coloring’s different,” he rushed to add. “But you have that same . . . wildness about you.” He grimaced. “I don’t mean to be creepy, I just don’t know what else to call it.”
    “So I should blame her for the way I am?” Emma twisted a lock of her hair, the piece that was always falling in her face.
    “I don’t know that I’d use the word ‘blame,’” Tyler said. “It’s one of