by Tia Souders
The Truth About Us
Tia Souders
Published by Cherry Valley Press, 2018.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
THE TRUTH ABOUT US
First edition. August 17, 2018.
Copyright © 2018 Tia Souders.
Written by Tia Souders.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
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PRESENT DAY – MAY 2nd
FEBRUARY 1st
CHAPTER ONE
Not much in life registered higher on the creepy scale than staring a corpse in the face. Except maybe when it was someone she loved. Someone with secrets.
Abigail Bridges took in the orange tint of her grandmother’s skin, trying her best to ignore the nose-wrinkling scent of mothballs and fresh flowers lingering in the air. It wasn’t every day you buried someone you loved. And it wasn’t every day you got a letter from the grave.
Reaching into the pocket of her black pants, Abby fingered the edges of the folded stationary she discovered in her grandmother’s old jewelry box, tucked beneath her freshwater pearls like buried treasure.
Ten years ago, I discovered a family secret, one that could very much change our lives... The words burned themselves in Abby’s skull, marring this goodbye with an unexpected ambiguity.
Since the moment her grandmother died, Abby dreamt of hearing from her again, dreamt of seeing the familiar crease of her aged skin spread with the curl of her smile, those sparkling blue eyes set off by a shock of thick, white hair. Only four days had passed since her death, and the ache in her chest reminded her of the loss every day. They were days of numbness and disbelief, but of all the things Abby hoped to hear in the wake of her passing, this wasn’t it.
“Abby, you ready?” A hand came down on her shoulder, and she turned to the sound of her mother’s voice.
Puffy, bloodshot eyes stared back at her as her mother nodded toward the exit of the funeral home. It was time to leave. Her final goodbye had passed her by, and all she could think about was the letter in her pocket.
Abby glanced at her grandmother one last time and couldn’t help but feel she had gained no amount of closure from this farewell.
By the time she arrived back home and retreated to the comfort of her bedroom, alone with nothing but her thoughts, the weight of the letter in her pocket nearly crippled her, outweighing her grief by a thousand to one.
Sliding her hand into her pocket, she removed the letter and unfolded it. She imagined GG writing it—pressing pen to paper, her brow furrowed in concentration.
Swallowing over the rock-sized lump in her throat, Abby pushed down the swell of anxiety wreaking havoc in her chest. The thump of her pulse strummed a rhythmic beat in her ears, drowning out the sound of her mother’s sobs coming from the next room. She sunk down onto her bed, everything else forgotten, as she read her grandmother’s words with fresh eyes.
My dearest Abigail,
Ten years ago, I discovered a family secret, one that could very much change our lives forever. Up until that point, I thought myself to be a strong woman. I prided myself on living my life without fear. I thought I’d be brave in the face of adversity, but when faced with difficulty, often times, we react differently than imagined. It’s these moments, the choices we make when faced with a critical decision, that determine true strength and character.
I’m afraid I took the easy route. I’m afraid I failed.
If you’re reading this, I’m gone from this world—off to a better place—somewhere I hope I won’t be punished for turning the other cheek. You see, over ten years ago, I stumbled upon a lie. This lie turned into secrets. And secrets into more lies.
I should’ve pushed, questioned, and revealed what I knew, allowing the truth to uncover itself, but I didn’t. Instead, I buried what I learned, making excuses for myself and hiding behind my denial. The mind is a powerful thing. Tell yourself something enough and you’ll believe it.
Combining with denial was my lack of concrete proof. I won’t go into detail now, but I had speculation, a hypothesis if you will, and little else. By the time an opportunity for more information presented itself, it was too late. I had already locked the secrets away, and the one person who knew of my search for answers was silenced.
My darling, I am sorry to say in my final moments on this earth, I regret my choices. Now, the burden of proof is on you. Only one other person knew about this. To my knowledge, he had the missing pieces to the puzzle. He harbored the proof you will need to be believed. Unfortunately, you will receive no answers from him now.
But the answers are out there somewhere. Waiting to be found. I am sure of it. If only I had the time to find them now, maybe I could right this wrong.
My hope is for your curiosity and your love for me to be a driving force in your motivation to uncover our family’s past, our history. But if it’s not, I have left you a trust fund. There is a substantial amount of money sitting in a bank account in your name, enough to pay for college and start a new life for yourself upon graduation.
As my cancer worsened and my time drew near, I gave my lawyer implicit instructions. One was to release the trust to you, but not until you have received all of my letters and unraveled the truth. Another was that on the night of my funeral, he was to arrange a special meeting. Be at Myer’s Community Park at ten o’clock tonight. There, you will receive your first clue.
Be brave, my Abby. This secret is our past. Revealing it will be your future.
Love,
GG
Abby clutched the letter in her hands and turned to the clock on her nightstand. It was seven o’clock, three hours before she was supposed to be at the park, and she had no idea what to do.
This was her grandmother, she told herself. Trust fund aside—because she didn’t care about the money—she only cared about what was clearly her grandmother’s dying wish.
Of course she should go. Shouldn’t she?
Her stomach clenched as she mulled over her decision. The fact the request had come from GG was of little consolation. She hadn’t known this woman with secrets. Abby had only known the one who played dolls with her as a child, baked her favorite cookies, and laughed with her over a game of cards.
What would happen if she went? What would happen if she didn’t?
More importantly, her grandmother was dead, so who would be waiting for her when she got there?
DARKNESS SURROUNDED her as she walked beneath the canopy of stars. She tucked her hands in the pockets of her hoodie, as a soft breeze caressed the exposed skin of her legs below her shorts.
Only a few minutes from her house, Abby had opted to walk the blo
ck to Myer’s Community Park. As luck would have it, her mother was too preoccupied with her own grief to question her going to bed before ten on a Saturday night. Her father, busy with consoling her mother, never noticed when Abby snuck out of her room, down the stairs, and out the front door. They wouldn’t check on her. Abby had given them no reason to doubt her throughout the years.
Armed with her thoughts and her cell phone, she raced over the sidewalk, ignoring the seed of dread swelling in her chest. Pinpoints of light dotted the indigo sky, only partly visible above the streetlights below. A dog barked in the distance, echoing through the balmy evening air.
She turned off the main road to the entrance of the park. The empty pavilion stood off to her right, next to the small playground, while the mouth of the vacant baseball field stretched out into the distance, yawning before her.
Longing reached under her ribcage, tugging at her heart. Hot summer days spent whittling away the hours at the park with GG and her grandfather pulled at her thoughts. They used to take her there during the week while her parents worked. Hours spent climbing the monkey bars, bouncing on the see-saw, pumping her legs on the swing, and spinning on the merry-go-round until she was dizzy formed a kaleidoscope of memories.
The clean scent of rain lingered in the damp night air. Goosebumps rose on her arms, and she hugged herself, trying to ward off the chill.
Abby walked past the slides, her feet sinking in the rubber mulch. When she reached the swings, she spun in a circle, surveying her surroundings for a sign she was not alone and found none. Taking a seat, she continued to eye the landscape. Nothing out of the ordinary popped out at her. The canopy of trees surrounding the small park loomed ominously in the dark. Their leaves rustled in the soft breeze, a soothing sound, if not for her mounting nerves.
She rubbed her arms, trying not to think of all the ways this could end poorly, most of them resulting in her lifeless body lying in the woods.
Closing her eyes, she inhaled a calming breath, trying to stifle the feeling of being watched.
Bright side, she thought. Look at the bright side.
This was exciting. It was taking her mind off of GG and how much she missed her...
The clinking of bottles pierced the quiet, and her eyes popped open. In her heightened state, her stomach rolled as her pulse raced.
A twig snapped, causing her to jump. Her heart lurched as she turned toward the sound behind her. A figure loomed, tall and thin, in the inky darkness.
Standing, her legs trembled under her weight. A lock of dark hair blew in her eyes, obscuring her vision. “Hello?”
The figure lifted something large in front of their body. She couldn’t make out the shape, but the clinking continued, so she pushed her shoulders back, bracing herself, and calling louder. “Hello?”
The shadow froze, and she felt, rather than saw, the figure’s gaze on her.
Her mouth turned to sawdust as she took a step forward, wondering if this was some kind of trap but reminding herself to be brave. Despite her self-assurance, nothing could quell her tangled nerves. Not even the knowledge her grandmother would never put her in harm’s way.
She swallowed hard, her throat raw, as the figure stepped forward until the light of the moon illuminated the face. Abby made out the square jawline, the large eyes blinking at her in the night, set deep in a handsome face. “The park’s closed. You shouldn’t be here.”
The baritone of his soft voice reverberated through her chest.
“Neither should you.” He stepped closer until his features became clearer and recognition flickered through her head. “Do I know you?”
The boy squinted, then nodded. “We go to school together. I’m Kaden Oliver. You’re Abigail, right? We have chem and calculus together.”
Abby didn’t move as she stared at him with narrowed eyes. Was that the only place she knew him from?
“Why are you here?” Abby asked. For the first time, her eyes shifted to the large object she had seen in the dark. A garbage bag—the source of the clinking.
She relaxed her shoulders, the tension draining from her muscles and leaving behind an exhausting combination of relief and fatigue.
“Um, I collect the trash at the park. It’s sort of a side job, but I couldn’t get down here this morning, so...” He shrugged. “I heard about your grandma. I’m sorry for your loss.”
“How’d you hear about that?”
“You weren’t in class, and the teachers told us—”
“Why do people always say that?”
“Say what?” he asked.
“Why do people always say they’re sorry for someone’s loss when they die? I mean, you didn’t know her, right? So, what do you have to be sorry about? And if you did know her, then you may as well be saying sorry to yourself, which is just...weird.”
He shifted on his feet, one hand gripping the giant trash bag while the other hung uselessly at his side. He blinked his big, round eyes, and Abby found herself wondering what color they were. She couldn’t tell in the dark.
“Um...I think it’s just supposed to mean that you’re sorry someone is sad. Like, sorry for your loss. No one wants to go through this. Someone dying sucks. We’ve all been there. What else is there to say?”
“True.” She glanced away from him, back toward the entrance of the park and the still-empty lot. “So, the trash is the only reason you’re here?” she asked, though she couldn’t imagine he had anything to give her.
“Yeah.” He drug the word out like she was slow.
With a sigh, she turned back toward the swings. His company eased the edge of fear coating the back of her throat and took her mind off her reasons for being there in the first place, but talking to him was pointless. Abby had come for a reason, and she needed to find out what that reason was.
“Hey, I can give you a ride home if you want. You live close by, and I’m only a few minutes from here.”
She turned and narrowed her eyes. “How do you know where I live?”
“Um, I don’t know. I just do, I guess.” He shrugged. “You want a ride?”
“No. I’m good.”
“Well, the park’s closed.”
Abby sighed and spun around. Her mouth pinched into a tight line of annoyance as she glared at him. “I know. You’ve already mentioned that. But I’m supposed to be meeting someone here, so if you’d finish collecting your trash and run along, I could get this over with and be on my way.”
“Who are you meeting?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Are you always this nosy?”
“It just seems weird.”
“It’s not that weird. I’m eighteen. Teenagers break the rules all the time. Maybe I’m meeting a boy here.”
“Are you?”
“Is that any of your business?” When he continued to stare, saying nothing, she added, “Technically, you’re breaking the rules, too.”
“Yes, but I work here, so it’s more like I’m bending them, not breaking them.”
“Are you always this incorrigible?”
“Yes.”
Abby eyed him one last time before turning her attention back to the darkness and the empty parking lot. This conversation was ridiculous.
Next to her, he rocked back on his heels and began whistling the theme song for Jaws while she struggled to ignore him.
Unable to take it any longer, she turned to him again, crossing her arms over her chest. “Do you have to do that? Why are you still here?”
“It seemed apt, considering the situation. You’re a girl, waiting by yourself in a park at night. Seems unsafe. Do you want me to wait with you?”
“Why would you do that?”
“I don’t know. ‘Cuz I’m a nice guy, and we go to school together, so you can trust me.” He stepped closer, and his sandy mop of hair fell in his eyes as he closed the gap.
Brown. His eyes were definitely brown.
She stared up at him, to the soft lines of his face. There was nothing disin
genuous in the way he looked at her, but she couldn’t have someone with her when... Well, she didn’t know what. She only knew this was important, and she couldn’t screw it up. Whatever the purpose of this meeting, she had a feeling it didn’t involve other people.
“That doesn’t mean I can trust you. Besides, I’ll be fine. If they don’t show soon, I’m leaving.”
Kaden’s gaze locked on hers, and she could tell he was trying to decide whether or not he believed her. She must’ve convinced him because he hefted the bag of trash over his shoulder like Santa Claus. “Well, have a good night, Abigail.”
He turned to leave, and for a moment, Abby wanted to race after him and ask him to stay. Maybe she did need someone there. Maybe she needed protecting. She had no idea, but she stood, feet planted in the spongy rubber.
As he headed over the hill and faded into the distance, she turned back toward the opening of the park. Movement caught her eye. A car parked.
She watched from a distance, squinting into the darkness. The hair rose on the back of her neck as a door opened and a small person stepped out. They didn’t bother to close the door. Instead, they moved in front of it and stood, staring into the depths of the park—staring right toward Abby, like they knew where she’d be all along.
Seconds passed as a knowing feeling washed over her. Her goosebumps from earlier returned. Shifting her gaze toward the hill where Kaden disappeared, she wondered if it was too late to run after him. Tell him she changed her mind, that he was right. She shouldn’t be there—alone—standing in the dark, waiting for a stranger.
But before she could do any such thing, GG’s letter flashed in her mind, and her feet moved on their own accord. Mulch turned to grass as she made her way across the playground toward the parking lot, her heart in her throat.
As she approached, the person became clearer, and she took in the sight of the old man. He hobbled a step closer. A thick wave of salt and pepper hair covered his head. Eyes, dark as onyx, never wavered from her face.
A shiver crept up her spine as he closed the distance between them, a gnarled cane in one hand and something small and dark in the other. The wind whipped her hair in her face and eyes. Brushing away her dark locks, she tucked them behind her ears and waited, unsure of whether she had the courage to close the gap even if she wanted to. Planting her feet, it took all her energy to stand in place and not bolt in the other direction.
