Taken Away Chapter 1

Chapter One
Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport, AZ February 2, 2009 10:37 AM

Blake Harris stared out the window of her private jet called The Fox as it taxied its way on the empty runway. For some reason, the seventeen year old focused on why she decided to name a plane after an animal. It was currently her favorite animal and thought it’d be cool. Now she was somewhat annoyed by her decision.
I’ll have to change it when I come up with a better name she thought.
The reason she was thinking about such a trivial matter was that she was trying very hard to not think about the rockets that were going off in her abdomen, trying ever so hard to force their way out by any means necessary. She hated being nervous, almost as much as she hated being afraid. She felt they were weaknesses and she only allowed herself very few weaknesses. It’s not that Blake believed that emotions were a sign of weakness, only fear and nervousness. She showed her other feelings without difficulty , such as anger, love, and annoyance. She often said to her friends, “I’m not a bitch, I’m just brutally honest,” which many people who knew her agreed with. If someone was being particularly annoying or just plain stupid, Blake had no problem pointing it out and sometimes that meant saying it outright without cutting any corners. However, she forgave people quite easily and she never kept grudges.
The thing is, Blake wasn’t sure how she should react with the person she was going to meet once the jet parked itself and the aircraft unloaded. What would she say? What does one say to one’s biological mother she’s never met before and never knew existed until a week ago?
Before she could answer the question she’s been thinking about for the past seven days, the captain told Blake over the intercom that they have arrived at the correct tarmac and she can exit the jet.
“Thanks, James,” the teenager said, pressing the intercom button so he could hear her. Blake unbuckled herself and stood, stretching after the hour and half plane ride. She picked up her green messenger bag and downed the rest of her Dr. Pepper she had grabbed from the mini fridge, then tossed it in the garbage. Blake took a very deep breath and clenched and unclenched her fists, a routine she did whenever she was trying to get herself together.
“Are you ready, Miss Harris?” asked a large man in a black suit and tie. His name was Xavier Jefferson, Blake’s head of security. He was six foot four, very muscled, and dark, almost black, eyes. He may look stern and serious to others, but Blake knew him to be an extremely sweet man and she often teased him by calling him a teddy bear.
“How can you be ready for something like this?” she asked the man she’s known since she was a small child. He sighed as well, not answering her question. Then Blake made her way to the back of the plane, the steps already descending.
She felt the blast of heat hit her and gasped at the sudden temperature change from a cool 60 degrees Fahrenheit in the cabin to the 80 degrees outside and very sunny.
“Welcome to the southwest,” she muttered to herself. She was glad she decided to wear a woman’s work t-shirt. It was black and plain in the front and then a white and black guitar design on the back where the neck was broken in half. Running parallel to the broken neck were the words in red “Axe Assassin” and red lightning bolts coming from the area where the guitar neck was broken. Her baggy jeans were a dark blue and ripped in several places with a black, silver studded belt holding them up. Blake reached into her bag at her hip and pulled out her motorcycle sunglasses that were so dark you couldn’t see her eyes, which protected her against the extremely bright sun. She then looked down at the ground and saw a few people bustling with activity by securing the jet and two other security agents next to a black unmarked SUV. Others were taking Blake’s suitcases from the luggage compartment.
But Blake only saw one person and she was standing a little ways ahead of the vehicle. Blake felt her heart pound with nervousness and fear, but she forced it to calm down, then began walking down the steps. Xavier followed her to where the woman was standing. Alyson Christenson; Blake’s biological mother; her real birth mother.
As Blake walked up to her, she looked over the older woman, seeing how much they looked alike. Although at a first glance, Blake looked nothing like this woman, after hours of staring at her picture she received from the police, she could see some similarities. They had the same nose and their eyes, even though they weren’t the same color, were the same shape. However, other than that, there was nothing else. This woman was around five feet and nine inches where Blake was five feet, four inches. Alyson Christenson had grayish-blue eyes and Blake had striking emerald green eyes. The older woman had almost black hair to her neck and Blake had blond hair to her shoulder blades (although her tips were dyed red and her sideswiped bangs where dyed black).
She eventually reached the woman and stood about a yard away from her. The rockets were at full throttle in her stomach and her heart was pounding extremely loudly. Alyson stared at her long lost daughter in person for the first time in sixteen years and it took every ounce of strength to hold her tears back.
Blake saw her eyes moisten.
Oh, please don’t cry! she silently begged the woman, who opened and closed her mouth a few times, as if unable to say what she was trying to get out.
“You’re—you’re beautiful,” Alyson whispered after a minute of staring at her daughter. Blake blushed slightly, but held their gaze. Alyson truly did believe that. Although Blake’s style of clothing was very different than her other daughters, along with nine piercings (eight on her ears, one on her tongue), and her unorthodox hair, the mother of the girl who owned a private jet thought she was absolutely stunning.
“Uh...thanks,” Blake said so quietly that Alyson barely heard her.
There was a long silence, neither of them knowing what to say. Blake could see Alyson’s body tensing, as if she were restraining herself from hugging her daughter. The teenager wasn’t sure if she would be comfortable with a hug. Even though this woman was her real mother, she was still a stranger to her. However, she could understand why she would want to embrace her. Xavier took a step forward to Blake’s side and cleared his throat.
“Miss Harris, we should be on our way. Your luggage has already been loaded into the car,” he said. “It would be wise to beat the press. It won't take them long to learn where you are now living.”
“Oh, right,” Blake said. “This is Xavier Jefferson, my head of security,” she introduced to Alyson.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Christenson,” Xavier said with a slight nod and a professional tone.
“He’s not as serious as he looks, I promise,” Blake promised the woman, knowing her body guard could come across as intimidating to most people. Alyson smiled slightly.
“Well, we should get going. I drove here and my car is in the airport parking lot,” she said.
“Okay.”
Everyone, including the two other security agents who didn’t say a word, got into the SUV and started driving to the parking lot. The ride was spent in silence, which Blake wasn’t sure if it was a good thing or not. They reached Alyson’s car, a blue 2007 Mazda CX-9.
“I’m not sure if all of your suitcases will fit in my car,” Alyson said, her brow scrunched up a little.
“That’s okay. They’re following us to your house, so it’ll stay in that car,” Blake replied. Alyson looked a little taken aback.
“It’s a three hour drive,” she said. Blake shrugged.
“How else are they going to get everything over? We can’t exactly drive back and forth,” she responded.
“I suppose, but I don’t want to put them out,” Alyson said reluctantly. Blake chuckled.
“It’s kind of what I hired them for, so it’s technically their job, I guess.”
“Okay then. Let’s get going.”
“See you in a few hours, Xavier,” Blake called to her protector. He nodded and Blake stepped into the front seat of the Mazda, then they finally left the airport and came upon the freeway around eleven am.
More silence enveloped the two women, the only noise was of speeding cars and soft music playing on the radio. Blake automatically began tapping her fingers to the beat of the music, not even realizing she was doing it. She looked out the window of the car and played with the piercing on her tongue. She would sometimes glance over at Alyson, knowing she was doing it as well.
After fifteen minutes without a single exchange of words, Alyson spoke unable to stand the silence any longer.
“Olivia and Bethany are done with school around three, so you’ll have about an hour to unpack before you meet them,” she said. Blake was then hit over the head again with the knowledge that she had sisters. She grew up as an only child her whole life (as far as she knew of, anyways) and the idea of having siblings was kind of strange.
“How old are they?” she asked.
“Olivia is nineteen and Bethany is fifteen, sixteen in April. Olivia is a freshman at St. Mary’s University, which is just a few miles from our house so she lives at home to save money. Bethany is a sophomore at the high school you’ll be going to,” Alyson answered.
“What do they like to do?”
“Olivia plays intramural golf and she also played in high school. She enjoys church activities, we’re Catholic, and often volunteers for different events, specifically with our church’s youth group. She wishes to become a youth pastor. She is majoring in Philosophy and her minor is Theology,” she explained. “Bethany is more into sports than Olivia. She plays on the varsity volleyball team. She was the first freshman to be a starting player in almost thirty years. The extent of her church involvement is youth group every week and mass on Sundays. You are more than welcomed to join us, if you want, but I’ll understand if you don’t. Are you religious?”
“Uh...no, not really. I’ve never been to church and never really had any urge to go,” Blake answered.
“Well, like I said, you are more than welcomed to come with us whenever you want. You were baptized Catholic after all,” she said. Blake raised an eyebrow.
“I was?” she asked, surprised.
“Yes, at the same church we go to now. We’ve never left Bisbee and have lived in the same house for almost twenty one years. You were actually born in Phoenix, which is my home city, when we were visiting my folks. I was in labor for forty five minutes at four thirty in the morning. One heck of a wakeup call,” she said with a small chuckle. Blake smiled as well. This was the first time she had ever heard the story of her birth.
Another silence, only this one was more comfortable.
“Do you always have them following you?” the older woman asked after another fifteen minutes. Blake smiled and glanced back at the black vehicle that was still tailing them.
“Usually it’s only Xavier and the ones are for when I travel anywhere.”
“When will Xavier be going back to Detroit?”
“He won’t be.”
“Really? He’s staying in Bisbee?” Alyson asked, surprised. “I have to be honest, I don’t have any room for him.”
Blake laughed out loud at that comment.
“Don’t worry, he’s not going to move in with you. He bought a house just down the street from yours,” she replied. “I tried to force him into staying in Detroit, even offering him an early retirement with plenty of money to tide him over for the rest of his life, but he refused. He told me that my parents left me in his charge and he’d be damned if he let me bribe him into leaving me. So, he followed me here.”
Alyson laughed quietly.
“He sounds very devoted to his job,” she said.
“I’m secretly glad he came along. He’s been with me since I was four and it would have been very difficult to leave him behind. However, I do feel a little bad to just uproot him like that, but he’s very stubborn.”
“Doesn’t he have any family?”
“No. His parents live somewhere in Idaho and he never married anyone. I don’t even think he’s had a girlfriend in all the years I’ve known him, but I’ve never actually asked, so I could be mistaken.”
“What about your guardian?” Alyson asked hesitantly. Blake felt her heart twist painfully at the thought of Colette, her in house caretaker she’s known since Blake was left with her adopted parents fourteen years.
“She’s the one who refused to come, no matter how much I begged her. She told me that I would rely on her too much, that I had to learn to live without her,” she answered quietly.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up something painful for you,” the woman said, sounding sincere.
“It’s okay. You were curious,” her daughter answered. “I don’t want you to feel like you can’t ask me questions about my life.”
“Really?” again, sounding surprised.
“Well, you are my biological mother and you haven’t seen me in sixteen years. Sure, you’ve probably heard some random tidbits here and there since I’m a Harris,” Blake said, a little annoyance in her voice at the last part, “but I know you’re probably dying to know what’s happened to me. I know I would be. However, there might be some questions that I won’t be ready to answer. After all, a girl has to keep some secrets,” she continued with a very warm smile directed at the older woman. Alyson saw how absolutely contagious the girl’s smile was and couldn’t stop the corners of her mouth from turning up.
“I’ll keep that in mind, but I might hold off on the interrogation until you’re a bit more comfortable around me. I can’t even imagine how you must be feeling and I don’t want to make any of this more difficult than it has to be. Also, I’m not sure how comfortable I am questioning a seventeen year old into telling me her life story, even if she is my long lost daughter,” Alyson explained. Blake smiled and felt immediate respect for this woman.
“Thank you,” she said. “That is incredibly kind of you.”
“I will take you up on your offer eventually, though.”
“That’s good; I would probably be a little insulted if you didn’t want to know anything about me,” she said. Blake did not mean this to be arrogant sounding, but she would be offended if her biological mother didn’t want to know anything about her own daughters life.
“We wouldn’t want that,” Alyson said.
They spent the next few hours in either extended silences or about a half an hour of conversation at a time. Blake learned a few small things about her sisters (still sounded very strange to think about) or about Bisbee. Alyson only asked a few questions and none of them very deep or big. Just simple, mostly yes or no answers.
Around two pm, Alyson pulled into the drive way of a very cute country style home, although it was in a normal cul-de-sac neighborhood. It had a three car garage, a front porch and looked to be about two levels, three including the basement.
“Four bedrooms, two and half baths, electric fireplace, and a messy basement,” Alyson answered some of Blake’s silent questions. “All the bedrooms are on the second floor.”
“It’s nice. I really like it.”
“It’s probably not what you’re used to, but it’s home for us,” Alyson said sheepishly.
“No, not at all. I’ve lived in a two bedroom, one bathroom, one level home almost every summer for about six years, so this is huge compared to that house,” Blake answered as they walked to the SUV to help everyone carry her things in.
“Really? Where was this?”
“In France with Colette, where she was born and raised. My mother was French—” Blake started, then stopped, realizing what she just said and went red. “Er—I mean...”
“Blake, it’s okay. I understand that they were your parents to you. You can call them mom and dad when you talk about them,” Alyson said, although Blake wondered if she really understood or was saying that to make Blake comfortable.
“Uh, okay. Thanks,” she said. “Anyways, she was French and Colette’s mother was her au pair. Colette followed her mother’s footsteps and decided to be my au pair when my parents adopted me. So, we would all go back to France and live with Colette’s mother for three months.”
“Wow, that must have been quite amazing, living in France for the summer.”
“Well, I lived there for the first ten years of my life, technically seven since I was here for one year and was God knows where for the other two before my parents adopted me,” she said. “But I still loved it there. France is my favorite place in the whole world.”
“I’ve heard it’s beautiful,” Alyson said as they each pulled a suitcase into the house.
“It is, especially Paris. I know that’s cliché, but that’s the best city I’ve ever been to.”
“So, I’m right to assume you speak the language fluently?”
“Correct. It was the first language I learned. However, when I lived in France, I had to learn to speak English, so I would speak French outside of home, but whenever I was home, it was English there. Then, when I moved to America I had to speak French at home.”
“I was wondering where you got your accent.”
Blake smiled. She did have a subtle French accent. It was noticeable, but it wasn’t very strong.
For the next half an hour, everyone helped bring Blake’s things up to her bedroom, which was the first one on the left. The stairs were right in front of you when you walked in the front door. To the left of the stairs was a living room with a long, leather couch, two leather chairs, and a flat screen TV mounted on the wall with some paintings and lamps scattered around the room. Straight through the living room was the dining room with a plain but still nice dining table made of wood and matching chairs. Straight through there was the kitchen and Blake couldn’t get a good look at the rest.
Up stairs were the four bedrooms Alyson spoke of. She informed Blake that Bethany’s was right next to hers and then it was the bathroom, then to the right of that was Olivia’s room and then finally Alyson’s master suite with her own suite bathroom with two sinks and whirlpool bathtub/shower.
Blake’s room was significantly smaller than the one in Detroit, but it was the perfect size for the things she brought. Already set up was a queen size bed with nicely carved headboard and a matching dresser with a large mirror that had shelves and drawers on it. Then a nightstand and a small computer desk near the closet. The room was crowded with her luggage.
“You certainly have a lot of guitars,” Alyson said quietly, staring at the eight guitar cases on the bed and floor. Blake laughed a little.
“It’s my favorite instrument and one of my few indulgences in life. I have more, but they’re collectables and I thought it would be best to leave them in Detroit.”
“More?” she asked.
“I have collected about 20 rare guitars from around the world.”
“And are these collectables?”
“Only two of them. The others are the ones I play.”
“You play the guitar?”
“Since I was five years old.”
“Wow, you must be amazing.”
Blake shrugged.
“You’ll hear me playing at some point. I practice about three hours every day if I can,” she replied.
“You must love to do play if you do it for twenty one hours a week.” Blake smiled this time, but chose not to answer. “Well, I’ll leave you to unpack and set everything up. If you don’t like the bedspread, we can run to Target either tonight or tomorrow to get you a new one and we can also pick up anything else you’ll need.”
“This bedspread is just fine and I don’t think I’ll need anything, but I’ll let you know if I do. My cars won’t be here until tomorrow, so I’d need a ride,” Blake answered.
“Cars?” she asked, emphasizing on the plural.
“Yeah, one of the perks of inheriting a multibillion dollar auto industry. You get access to some pretty cool rides. I’m only bringing one car and my motorcycle, though.”
“A motorcycle?”
“Yeah and I’m really excited about living in a place without snow because then I can ride it any time of the year,” Blake said, her enthusiasm showed in her voice.
“Well, that’s nice,” Alyson said, her expression unreadable. “I’ll let you unpack then. Would you like anything specific for dinner? Would you like a snack now?”
“No thanks. I ate on the plane,” she replied. “Besides, I’d like to get as much done as I can before Olivia and Bethany get here.”
“Okay, just call for me if you need anything.”
“Sure thing.”
Alyson stared at Blake for a few more seconds before she left the room and walked down the stairs. The teenager then began to unpack.