We aren’t here to hurt anyone but Ellis. Neil was never in any danger. I knew he would be all right.
But I still have to press my hand over my chest and wait for my heartbeat to slow down.
As the crowd disperses and I get closer to the stage, I see something scattered on the floor under the remnants of the crushed piano—hundreds of white sheets of paper. I push my way closer, snatching one up from the ground.
In thick, black marker, large enough to cover the whole page, it reads, Tell the truth.
Underneath that, there are typed words. I read a few paragraphs before I realize what I’m holding. It’s a page from Ellis’s first manuscript. The one that was in the glass case at the bakery.
Which means Mom must have broken in and stolen it last night.
And there are also red pen marks scattered throughout—Mom’s notes from when she was helping him revise the book. There are phrases scribbled out, overused words circled, little encouraging notes to counteract the harshness of the red ink. Interesting! Haha! Like this section! The lengths Mom went to, trying to protect his feelings.
But the marker doesn’t care about the fragility of his feelings.
When I look up from the page, I see Ellis bending down to pick up a piece of paper for himself.
I see the ink bleeding through the back. Mom wrote the same phrase on every single piece of paper, to make sure he’d see it. Tell the truth.
I watch his face as he looks it over. It must take him no time at all to recognize his own words. To realize what he’s holding. And just a few seconds more to get at least an inkling of what it means.
His son was almost killed.
The sign falling might have been written off as an accident. But someone clearly planted the manuscript.
And who would have a reason to hurt a Bowman?
I’m sure Ellis has more than one enemy. But there’s only one whose handwriting is on the paper he’s holding.
He glances around to see if anyone else saw the papers yet, and I’m quick to hide the one in my hands behind my back.
He snaps into action, gathering up the scattered manuscript while everyone else is busy fussing over Neil or pushing toward the exit. Because if anyone else suspects that the sign falling wasn’t an accident, they’ll have questions. Who’d want to hurt a family so perfectly kind? So absolutely innocent?
They might start to suspect that Ellis isn’t so innocent.
His wife notices him with the stack of papers before he can hide them, and he mutters, “Just some old programs,” before he disappears backstage with them, where I’m sure he’ll do a thorough job of disposing of them, because that’s what Ellis does with all his dark secrets. Buries them.
But he didn’t do a thorough enough job burying Nina Holland.
I wish she could have been here to see his face, the moment he saw those words—tell the truth.
His eyes popped so wide. He looked as gaunt as a skeleton in the dim light of the sanctuary.
Like deep down, he could feel that the secrets he buried so long ago were rumbling closer and closer to the surface.
Mom told me she wanted to scare him. Haunt him.
And by the look I saw on his face, I’d say that for the first time in a long time, Mom is finally getting what she wants.
Chapter 21
“THE TIMING WAS JUST too perfect to be a coincidence,” Melody says. “Right in the middle of the Dawn Festival? While the whole town was there to see it?”
Jill brought blankets for us to stretch out on and watch the dark sky. She and Ellis are on one, while I’m wedged between Neil and Melody on the other. Neil’s ankles are crossed, and his fingers are laced behind his head like he wasn’t just a few feet from getting his skull smashed in by a giant hunk of wood.
“So, what are you saying, Mel?” he asks. “Someone’s out to get me?”
It sounds so ridiculous, even Melody can’t argue—because it’s Neil, and no one could hate him, no matter how hard they tried. And because this is Jasper Hollow, and nothing so heinous has happened here since Will Jasper skipped town. As far as anyone knows.
Pastor Holland brought his own lawn chair, and he’s slumped in it right next to where Ellis is stretched out. The pastor is rolling his cane in his hands. “It’s because Matthew hasn’t been checking those cables, like I told him to,” he grumbles.
“I’m just glad no one got hurt,” Jill says, squeezing her son’s elbow.
“Exactly,” Ellis says. “Exactly right. Let’s focus on that.”
He insisted on going up to the church attic himself to investigate. The bolts that held the sign’s cables in place were drilled through the attic floor. “Both bolts had come loose,” he said. “It was only a matter of time. I thought the sign had been looking a bit crooked lately.” Once he said it, everyone else nodded along and said they thought so, too.
Who knew that Ellis himself would be our greatest ally in covering our tracks?
And that’s that. Ellis has given his verdict on the situation, and everyone has accepted it as the truth and is ready to move on. Pastor Holland starts criticizing the sermon Matthew is supposed to give to the youth group this week.
“I had to bully him into letting me look over his notes, and let me tell you, it’s a good thing I did. You’d think he could manage something as simple as the story of Jonah.” He keeps muttering, mostly to himself, about how misguided young pastors are these days while Ellis, Jill, and Neil get into a discussion about the metaphorical meaning of a man getting swallowed by a whale. Still, Ellis is tense all the while, darting furtive glances at the shadowed trees around us, like Mom is hidden somewhere in their depths, watching him.
And she probably is.
Melody is quiet beside me. I nudge her with my elbow. “Chill,” I advise her. “Nobody would want to hurt your brother on purpose.”
She chews on her lip. “I wouldn’t say nobody,” she whispered.
“But he’s a teddy bear.”
“Most of the time,” she agrees.
I wait for her to elaborate. She sighs. “Don’t make fun of me.”
I raise my eyebrows, intrigued.
“So I was really into Lord of the Rings when I was a kid,” she says. “And I got a pair of elf ears for my tenth birthday.”
She looks pointedly at me, daring me to laugh. I determinedly keep a straight face, but at the same time, I make a note to scour her room later for evidence of this elf obsession.
“I wanted to wear them to school once. Dad warned me not to, but I told him I could hide them under my hair. But of course, this idiot named Trey Parks teased me all day, and I snapped and yelled at him in the hallway. Something like, Touch them again, and I’ll shove them up your ass.”
“Did he touch them again?” I ask.
“He tried to. But Neil punched him out cold before he could.”
“Really?”
I never would have expected Neil to be capable of something like that. He’s strong enough to hurt somebody, sure. I just didn’t think he had the stomach for violence.
“I know,” Melody says, reading my face. “I couldn’t believe it either. Dad was proud of him for defending his family, though. He talked the principal into letting him off with a week of detention instead of suspension.”
“So . . . what? You think this Parks kid is out to get him?”
Melody shakes her head. “No, he moved away years ago. I’m just saying, don’t assume that just because he’s usually so nice that he hasn’t made any enemies.”
She’s quiet for a few beats, and I can see that she’s dwelling on it. But even though it’s unlikely that she’d guess who was really behind it, I don’t want her thinking it was anything but an accident, so I change the subject.
“Ellis and Pastor Holland are close?” I ask her.
She shrugs, her shoulder brushing mine. “I guess so. Mom says Dad had a hard time when he was younger, and Pastor Holland was there for him a lot.”
“A h
ard time?”
“When his parents died. They were both killed in a car accident when he was in college.”
“Jesus,” I say, pretending I don’t already know.
“Yeah.”
The others aren’t paying attention to us, but it feels like something that should only be talked about in whispers.
“Dad was nineteen,” she goes on, staring up at the sky, which has gotten just a pinch too bright to see the stars. “Uncle Jameson was nine, so Dad had to drop out of college and come back to take care of him.”
I read about it in his book. I’ll admit, whenever I really think about it, something like pity starts to open up in my chest. He grew up dirt poor, and the football scholarship was his bright, shining opportunity to get out, make something of himself, be more than his parents. And it was all ripped away in a second.
But it doesn’t take much to strangle my sympathy for him. All I have to do is think about his nice, big house, with the shiny floors and fresh paint and things, things, things that fill up every room. Things that Mom paid for with everything that ever mattered to her.
I have to remind myself of that more often. Because you have to nurture hate just as much as you nurture love. Keep it thriving.
“That’s when Pastor Holland stepped in,” Melody says. “He got him a job at the bakery and dropped in all the time to check on him. Helped him out with money, too, probably. And they talked a lot.”
“Nice of him.”
She shrugs. “I guess he thinks of Dad like his son.”
I dig my nails into my palms. “Because he never had any kids of his own.”
Melody pauses for a moment before she says, “I think he had a daughter. But Mom’s never told me what happened to her. She says it makes her too sad. She must have died, somehow.”
“Have you asked your dad about her?”
“He changes the subject every time I bring her up. It must be sad for him, too.”
For a moment, I don’t trust myself to speak. I swallow a few times, trying to calm the angry heat that clenches and unclenches my fists.
When I drop my head to the side to look at Melody again, her face is cast in the gray blue of the brightening sky. Her eyes are closed, and she breathes in deep through her nose; I think it’s because she likes the mountain smell—dirt, trees, wind, and hidden creeks. I’ve seen her do it before. She’s always just a little less tense when she’s outside. Maybe that’s why she likes the color green so much.
And somehow, I’ve forgotten what I was mad about.
I shake my head to clear it, trying to get back on track. I remember what Mom told me last night. Look for something that might remind Ellis of me.
“Has your dad always lived in Jasper Hollow?” I ask Melody, offhandedly.
“Born and raised,” she says without opening her eyes.
“The same house?”
“No. He grew up in a little cabin on Pearl.”
“Yeah? Is that where Jameson lives now?”
“No. It was destroyed in a storm. There’s no one there.”
“Hm.” I pause. “Did your dad keep anything from it?”
She opens one eye to look sideways at me. “Like what?”
I shrug, trying to look like I only have a casual interest in the conversation. “I don’t know. Keepsakes. I just think it’s cool to have your family history all right here, you know? I think that would be nice.”
“I don’t think he kept a thing. He’s never gone back, as far as I know. He wanted to leave that part of his life behind.”
“You think?”
“I know. He talks about it in one of his books—Leaving the Past Behind.”
“Oh,” I say. I hope the disappointment doesn’t show in my voice.
Then, a few seconds later, Melody adds, “Jameson kept a few things.”
My heart flutters in my throat.
“But nothing sentimental. Things like the couch and the dining table. Maybe even the pots and pans. I don’t know. It’s been a million years since I’ve been to his house.”
“Why? Does he live far?”
“No. He’s over on Mattie Mountain.” She yawns. “I just think he’s a creep.”
I chew on that information for a few minutes. Before I can come up with another response, the rim of the sun peeks over the tip of Mattie Mountain, and Jasper Hollow greets the day with thundering applause. They clap and whistle, keeping it up for a long time, until the sky blazes with light. Everyone except Melody.
Our all-night baking session must have finally caught up with her—she’s curled up on her side next to me, her breath coming slow and warm through her parted lips, whispering against my cheek.
While everyone else welcomes the morning, celebrating Will Jasper like he wasn’t a thief, a liar, and a fraud, Melody Bowman falls fast asleep.
-
We go back to the house after sunrise to squeeze in a couple of hours of sleep before the festival starts at nine. At eight thirty, Melody loads the cookies into her father’s car to take to the Circle. I carry out the last box, and after I stack it with the others in the trunk, she says, “You can sit in the church tent with me and help me sell these things. If you want to.”
Her cheeks bloom pink, and she has a hard time meeting my eyes.
I smile. “Are you asking if I want to hang out with you?”
Her blush burns brighter. She slams the trunk shut and storms past me. “Well, I said you don’t have to.”
“Mel.”
I don’t know why I called her that. No one calls her that but Neil. I wait for her to whirl on me and say something snarky, but when she turns to meet my gaze, she doesn’t say a word.
“I would,” I say. “But I think I’ll head to the festival a little later.”
“Oh.”
“I’m just really tired. From last night. You know.”
“Right.”
No matter how stiff and emotionless she manages to keep her face, I can’t help thinking that I’ve hurt her feelings somehow. Like she doesn’t ask for things often and it’s hard for her to do it.
She walks back into the house without another word. I sigh and follow her in.
Half an hour later, I watch through a window while the Bow-mans climb into Ellis’s car. The second it pulls away, I grab the keys to the twins’ Jeep from the bowl by the door.
-
When I get to the clearing on Pearl Mountain, the van isn’t there. I yell for Mom. I’m certain she’s nearby, ready to hear all about exactly how Ellis reacted to her little stunt. But I don’t find her.
That shouldn’t make me worry. I shouldn’t feel the panic spreading though my chest and down my arms, making my fingers go numb.
She told me not to come looking for her, that she would find me, but she won’t be angry. I’ll tell her about the haunted look on Ellis’s face. And I think we can find something useful at Jameson’s house. That will make her happy.
“Mom?” I yell again, heart skittering.
The sun is high above me, and the heat is everywhere, even under the shade of the trees. I’m pacing, my teeth grinding, sweat dripping down my back. I taste salt on my lips.
I try not to think about Jill, who always tells her kids where she’s going, and when, and why. The way they don’t even listen anymore, but she tells them anyway.
I need to stop comparing them. Mom’s had a hard life. I shouldn’t expect so much from her.
Should I?
Once she gets her revenge on Ellis, this will all be over. Once her father knows the truth, she’ll let go of her pain. And then she can be everything I need her to be. I just have to be patient.
No one else has to be patient. No one else has to do this.
I pull at the ends of my hair, trying to clear that foreign whisper in my head.
I pause midstep next to the pond, my eyes on the spot where Mom and I built the fire our first night in Jasper Hollow. It looks like it hasn’t been touched in days. I scan the dirt under my feet and
don’t see any fresh footprints but mine.
I’m searching the clearing for any sign that she’s been here recently, the panic rising like a fist in my throat, when I find the piece of paper under a rock on the cabin’s front porch.
It says, I told you not to come looking for me again.
I read it over and over, until I get it through my head that I won’t find her here. Her hiding place has changed.
She didn’t trust me enough to stay.
No—she knew me well enough not to stay.
I crush the piece of paper in my fist, the realization sinking in that until she decides to come for me, I’m completely on my own.
Nina had been learning about Hell since she was old enough to understand what pain was.
Her father preached about it often. He did whole sermons on the meaning of eternal suffering—of the burning that doesn’t end. He’d slam his fist over and over again on the pulpit, red-faced and spitting his words. “Pain that lasts forever. Do you know how long forever is? We’ve all said it before, but do we really know what it means? Forever is longer than it would take one man to drink up the ocean. Forever is more time than it would take to count every speck of dirt on every mountain in the world.”
Hell was his favorite topic. Nina shouldn’t have been surprised that he preached about it the Sunday after she found out she was pregnant with a married man’s child.
Ellis had been listening to her father’s sermons even longer than she had. While they were seeing each other, she’d wanted to ask him if what they were doing meant they were doomed to suffer. But without really being aware of it, she’d always believed that nothing Ellis did could ever be so wrong. He was a good man—her father said so all the time. People like Ellis didn’t go to Hell. As long as she was with Ellis, she would be safe.
But he had left her, and she didn’t feel safe anymore.
She’d lain awake every night since she found out she was pregnant, forming a plan in her head. She would walk to the next town over. It would take more than an hour, but that was the closest place with a bus that would take her to Columbus, where she could go to an abortion clinic. She’d looked up the address on a computer in the library.
The Hollow Inside Page 14
