She suspected, based on the size of her mother’s estate, that he was getting a hefty paycheck for doing so. Yet that made it better. She hated when things got too personal.
“So, what’s the plan?” Everett asked as he sat on the couch in front of the box. He placed his hands on his knees and his eyes flickered to the walls, dragging across the disturbing photos. His eyebrows raised, then he looked away and back at her. “Do you have one?”
“Don’t mind all that,” she said. She didn’t want to pretend it wasn’t there and make things even more awkward. “It’s a case I’m working on. As for the box…”
“I mean, I guess I never really thought about it. It’s all still a lot, you know? How do people usually go about these things?”
“Well, as unhelpful as it might be, there is no typical way of dealing with the loss of a family member. Everyone handles grief differently. What feels most comfortable to you?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. Not knowing herself was kind of her specialty. She didn’t like to think about it too much. “Maybe we can just dive in?” It reminded her of her mother and how much better she was at having guests over than Amelia was. If she could even call Everett a guest. “Can I get you anything? Wine, beer?”
“A beer would be great, thank you.”
“Great choice.” As she walked into the kitchen, she thought about how much this was like having one of her friends over. She could see why her mother chose Everett as her lawyer. He was personable and took a bit of the edge off this monster of a process.
“Hope you like Stella,” she said as she handed him the bottle and opened her own. “I really appreciate you coming over. It’s nice not to have to do this alone.”
“Amelia, I’m here for you, okay? It’s normal to feel intimidated by this process, but you’re not alone. That’s what people like me are here for. To guide you through this. It’s my specialty.”
She smiled a genuine smile as their eyes met. “Well, thank you.” She turned back to the box. “Let’s get this over with.”
She opened the lid, and they both peered inside only to find papers in no particular order, like they were haphazardly thrown in one at a time every time someone passed by. There were hundreds of newspaper articles, police reports, and pictures. They picked through them a bit. Glanced over them.
Amelia’s heart twisted as she looked upon her own face. Newspaper headlines of her kidnapping mixed in with pictures of herself and her brother. Struggling as a family. This was a box of the secrets they wouldn’t speak about.
“These are all about you?” Everett asked as he looked up from a newspaper clipping that was printed right after she was taken.
“Yeah.” Amelia nodded slowly. “I had no idea she kept any of this. She probably didn’t want to bother us, though. She never liked us to see such things. That’s why it was probably kept elsewhere. You see, I was…” This was still so hard to talk about and she hated it. She drew a deep breath. “I was kidnapped as a child. My captor was never caught. And I—” Stammering a bit, she regained her composure. “I blamed her for a long time. Maybe I still do, if I am honest. My brother Cameron had leukemia. Diagnosed when he was two. It often felt like he was her only focus. She never knew where I was. So, I always thought if she had paid more attention, she might’ve seen me. Protected me. Stopped me from being kidnapped.”
Silence fell over them for a moment. Amelia regretted the words the second she said them. She never shared this part of herself with anyone. She had no idea why she told him, but the words just poured out of her like she said them all the time.
“That sounds really difficult. I can see why that would make her death much harder on you. Though you aren’t the first to have bad blood between a deceased family member. I see it so often. There’s always a lot of guilt, a lot of heartbreak involved when someone passes. We often wait to say the things we truly long to say until it’s too late. But I’d say she knew you loved her. Just like deep down I know you know she loved you, too. Sometimes it helps to think of the person away from the fights and anger. Remember the good things instead of getting caught up on the bad. What was she like as a person? Did she have special hobbies? What did you love most about her?”
Amelia sat quietly for a long time before answering. Everett was patient, used to dealing with these kinds of tricky situations. Just what she needed in that moment.
“You know, I never really paid much attention, I guess. I can’t tell you that much about her. I know when she had us, she was still a country music superstar. She was doing pretty well for herself, too. She gave up singing when we were still young, though, once Cameron got sick. Still, people recognized her everywhere we went. Sounds glamorous, but it was embarrassing.” She laughed. This was embarrassing, but a relief to admit it.
“I never saw her as this big star, though. I was too self-absorbed to notice her as anything but my mom, the caregiver. God, what a shitty daughter I am. I could not even tell you her favorite color.”
“That’s not uncommon.” He smiled. The way he looked at her made her believe it. He was listening to her, not judging her. “We don’t look at our parents as people until we’re adults and notice they have lives in addition to us. That process can become more difficult when we don’t get to know them as adults because something in our childhood has prevented us from that. But there’s got to be simple things you loved about her. Just think about it.”
The problem was, she didn’t want to think about it. Thinking about her mother only made Amelia miss her more. It brought such a sense of devastation to her heart. It was hard to remember the good things and not get torn up over the fact that she was dead. Gone forever.
“She always dressed nice,” Amelia said, letting go of some of that anger in favor of something brighter and happier. It was hard but not quite as painful as she feared it would be. “She always smelled like honeysuckle. She was glamorous, even when she quit singing. She had such an amazing voice. Whenever we were frightened, or in pain, or it was just a sunny day, she sang. And it always made things a little better. Despite her stardom, though, she was also kind. Giving. She devoted her time to Cameron when we were younger. But once he was gone, she volunteered a lot. Donated to a variety of causes.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. Emily requested in her trust that you continue to donate to a couple of her favorite charities. She also wanted you to find some causes you’re passionate about. Share the wealth, so to speak.”
“Really?” Amelia felt like an ass. She didn’t even wait for him to finish reading everything today before she grabbed the box and walked out. She couldn’t handle it then. Now, she wanted to know. She only wished her mother was still alive to tell her everything. “I’m sorry. I should have stuck around today and let you finish.”
“It’s okay, honestly. It overwhelmed you, and that’s understandable. Not everyone expects to be left a fortune of this size. It seemed your mother lived a rich lifestyle, but not one that would’ve hinted at the true amount of money in her possession.”
“Yes, this is quite the surprise. I knew she had some money tucked away, but I had no idea it was this much. That was one thing my mother was great at, keeping secrets.”
Amelia was surprised by the way this anger bit her. Once comforting, this bitterness now felt worse than the warm feelings she had conjured up towards her mother earlier.
“It’s not family money? I just assumed it was. Generally, estates of this size are handed down generation to generation.”
“No, not that I know of, anyway. We never met any relatives. She told me her parents disowned her for following her dreams. I have never met them; I don’t even know if they know I exist. We lived in our own little world, my mom, Cameron, and me.”
She had to stop talking. She knew if she didn’t, she’d cry. And that was one thing she refused to do in front of this stranger. She would not allow herself to cry.
“Do you believe that she intentionally left you alone, knowing you w
ere at risk?” Everett asked gently. “It seemed you two were her heart. Do you really think she didn’t care for you?”
“No,” she admitted. It was difficult to say out loud, but in this odd moment of closeness, she had to. “I just felt like she loved my brother more, that making sure he was ok was more important than me. Which I know isn’t true, but it’s hard to not feel that way as a child. And after the kidnapping… Well, it seemed part of me never grew up. Never grew past that.”
Her eyes wandered over to the box again. “Wait a second.” She cocked her head. “There’s something taped to the lid!”
Amelia reached out and removed an envelope taped to the top of the box. Her name was scrawled across it in her mother’s beautiful handwriting. She opened it without hesitation.
My Dearest Amelia,
I want you to know that I love you more than anything. I know you’ve doubted this, but it’s true. You are my heart, my soul. You’re the air I breathe, my sweet daughter. You are the best part of me.
I’ve always wanted to be honest with you, but for reasons beyond my control and for your own safety, I couldn’t be. Not fully. Now that I’m gone, I feel you should know the truth. Please read this in confidence and use your best judgment with this information. You must be so careful, darling. This world is full of monsters and sometimes you may not be able to see them. Not all demons look wretched.
First, I need to warn you about your biological father. He is a very dangerous and powerful man. You’ve wanted to know more about him for a long time, and I did what I thought was right. I only wanted to protect you. I know now that in doing so, I denied you the knowledge of who you are and where you came from. I’m telling you this because I know you will find him with the information I’ll give you, but I hope you don’t seek him out. Please do not put yourself in danger for the past. Do not put yourself in danger for my mistakes. He’s not the kind of father who would ever be worth it.
Second, I do not have words to describe the pain life sometimes hands us. I was so consumed with keeping Cameron alive that I failed you. For that, I have lived with regret most of my life. It’s a mistake I know I can never make up for. I am so sorry for not being there for you when you needed me most. You were such an independent child, and I took advantage of that. I tried to be the best mother I could be, and I hope you keep the memories of our happy times close to your heart. I hope someday you can forgive me, although I can honestly say I have never forgiven myself.
Third, the house. Do not sell the house! It is yours, and though the adjustment might be difficult at first, I think you’ll build a wonderful life there. I left you everything you need where the stagecoach is parked.
All my love,
Mom
Amelia looked up at Everett, tears streaming down her face as years of anger and resentment crashed down, leaving only sorrow and love. He wrapped his arms around her, and she had no choice but to let her guard down as she sobbed into this stranger's shoulder.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, as she tried to regain her composure. He held her, though, even as she tried to distance herself.
“Don’t be,” he shook his head. “We all need people around us during times like this. Sit. I’ll get you some water. Take all the time you need.”
She nodded and stared at the letter in disbelief. How could she have waited so long to have this discussion with her mother? Had her own fears contributed to this wall between them? Did things have to be as turbulent as they were?
No.
She felt horrible about everything and wished for just an hour more with her. Did her mother know when she died that her daughter really loved her? How could Amelia tell her now that she forgave her for everything?
Everett handed her the glass of water and sat beside her. “It’s getting late,” she said once she gained some composure. “You should probably be going. I’ve kept you here far too long.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’m glad I could be here for you. Are you sure you don’t want me to stay for a bit longer? I don’t feel right leaving you alone like this.”
“I’m okay.” She held up two fingers. “Scout's honor. I’ll text you in the morning so we can finish everything up.”
“Okay, as long as you’re sure.”
“I’m a cop. I can take care of myself.” She was a little grateful to note the harshness in her tone. She was getting herself back together. She could do this.
“Yes ma’am,” he smiled. “Have a good night, Amelia.”
“You too, Everett.”
As soon as he was out the door, she texted Trent and headed straight to her mom's house to find the stagecoach toy she had discarded in her preteens.
Chapter Eleven
Amelia couldn’t remember the last time she saw her favorite childhood toy, and she only vaguely remembered what it looked like. She had to have been eight, maybe nine when she picked it up last. Right about the time when she stopped believing in fairytales, and castles, and a fairy godmother who might one day deliver her to her happily ever after in a stagecoach pulled by white horses.
Her mom's house was exactly how she remembered it, though. She stared at it as she waited for Trent to arrive. A lovely three-story Victorian painted a muted purple. Her mother loved gardening, so beautiful flowers nestled under leafy trees. Though Amelia had changed a lot since she was a child, they still seemed to promise adventure to her.
She wished she had come home sooner and seen her mother before she died. As she closed her eyes, she could see Emily sitting on the white porch swing reading as Amelia, Cameron, Trent, and Brenda played under the summer sun. She opened her eyes. Time to face reality.
She stepped out as Trent arrived, and she almost wished that she hadn’t texted him. This seemed like something she should do herself. Her mother had warned her to be careful who she told about this. But Trent was practically a member of their family. She couldn’t have meant for Amelia to hide this from him, too. It’s not like Amelia had to tell them why they were here, anyway.
“Hey!” Trent smiled as he joined her on the wraparound porch. “What’s up? Why did you have me come here?”
“This house is mine now.” Just saying that made it feel more real. Too real. Her mother had told her not to sell it. That it was hers. But could it ever really be hers? Could she find peace among the ghosts?
No. This was her mother’s house, and her mother wasn’t here anymore. So it could never be home. Not to anyone.
“Really?” He looked at her with a questioning look she didn't quite understand. “Wow. I mean, it makes sense, but wow. That’s incredible, Amelia! When are you moving in?”
“We’re not here about that,” she snapped. Aggravated at him for even mentioning it. Moving in would mean her mother really was gone. She wasn’t exactly ready to face that yet. Probably not ever.
“Why are we here then?” Trent crossed his arms over his chest.
“We’re here to find a stagecoach.”
“A stagecoach?”
“Yes, a stagecoach. I brought you along because you know this house almost as well as I do. I figured you could help me look for it.” She rolled her eyes at his confused expression. “It’s a toy. One I had as a kid. So, we’re looking for a toy stagecoach. Or just let me know if you find anything like that and I’ll tell you if it’s the one.”
She unlocked the door and Trent followed her in. Her hand instinctively reached for the light switch.
“What’s so special about this stagecoach?” he asked.
“Maybe I’ll tell you once I find it.”
She closed her eyes for a moment. Her mother’s smell still lingered among the warm and cozy nooks of the house. She followed the light to the living room, painted robin's egg blue, which flowed perfectly with the shiplap ceiling and wood trim. From the outside, their house, their lives, had looked perfect. And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t quite as bad as Amelia remembered. Not perfect. Not terrible. Somewhere in between.
“Where do yo
u think it’d be?” he asked.
“Not sure. You can start down here, though. I’ll tackle upstairs.”
He nodded, and she headed up to her old room. She couldn’t let Trent look through that. She opened the door to a lilac room with clouds painted on the ceiling. Stars on the walls. Her stuff was gone.
A sewing machine had taken its place. Shelves of craft supplies. Boxes of material. She smiled. Her mother always loved creating, with her voice, her hands. She was glad that she had indulged in that passion before her death. Did something for herself. She could picture her Mom here, and Amelia hoped she would find some of her creations throughout the house.
As Trent rooted around downstairs, Amelia went up into the attic. She assumed it was most likely where Emily would’ve packed her things away. She opened the latch door, pulled herself up, and was astonished by how much stuff was up there.
Cardboard boxes were stacked all over. Knocked over. Toys and keepsakes were propped around the room. She and Cameron used to love to play up there, but it hadn’t been so full then.
Yet that wasn’t the most surprising part. What shocked Amelia was the fact that her mother was always organized. To a fault sometimes, but up here, things had been tossed about. Boxes opened. Important memories thrown on the floor. Precious things shattered, and no one had bothered to pick up the pieces.
Someone had been up here. Someone had been going through this stuff, Amelia was sure of it. Her mother would’ve never messed things up like this, but the real question was, why? What would anyone want with the junk up here?
Sure, family might be interested. There were a lot of sentimental things up here waiting to be discovered. But nothing that could be useful to anyone else. Her career in law enforcement led Amelia to always be skeptical of things that seemed out of the ordinary. She knew something was wrong here. But she didn’t have time to really puzzle it out before she caught sight of the stagecoach.
The Darkest Secrets Page 5
