by Scott, Eliot
My brother is standing there, silhouetted like he’s leaning against the glass. My gut sinks with instant terror. Don’t jump.
“I see you. You’re good. I’m not.” He’s sobbing.
“I see you, too. And we’re not different, Grady,” I answer quietly, looking up at him. My breath starts coming out hard, as if I’ve run the entire distance from the lake to this place. “Please let me up; you’re sort of scaring me. Let me up. Let me fix this. Please.”
“I won’t. I’ve changed all the access codes, so don’t even try; just stay there. Stay there for a minute so I can see you down there. So I don’t feel so alone.” He places his arms wide against the glass and lays his hands flat, his body making the shape of a cross. With all of the light streaming out from behind him, he looks like he’s trying to fly.
“You’re not alone, Grady,” I whisper, holding still and staring up at him. “Please let me up.” My heart is squeezing, and my guts are filling up with an ocean of dread as he falls to his knees like he’s got no strength left in his legs. He sobs more.
“What the fuck is wrong, Grady? What?” I stare up at his figure in the window. I’ve never, ever heard my him cry like this before. “What are the new codes to the building?”
“Six. Seven. Five. Three. You’ll need them for the lake house. Father only has the old ones. He will be angry about that.”
“Father?” I’m now certain Grady has lost his hold on reality.
“Father. Yes. He’s known about Emily all along. He faked his own fucking death to lure Jojo back here. He’s waited all of these weeks—he’s been waiting for Emily to be his. We didn’t know about her, Mother and I. He made Mother plan his funeral. Even I didn’t know because he told me I’d have fucked it up. He also made her go and meet Jojo, so they could lure Emily in. He said it would be perfect for the child to have herNana there when she finds out both of her parents are dead.”
My heart slows. My skin turns cold, and all I can whisper into the phone is “Father…”
“I’m supposed to lure you up here somehow. But you—your fucking endless guilt and honesty has made it too easy. You were already on the way. Father wants me to kill you, Alex. And then, even though he’s just broken…like…five of my bones, he expects me to meet him at the lake to help with Jojo. He told me I can have her, but he’s lying. He would never allow that. He just wants to kill her.”
“Where is Father?” I ask, keeping my voice calm and deliberate. I need information. I need it now. “Where is Father now?”
“He’s been hiding in his hunting lodge this whole time. Until last night. Until you sent the little girl into the wolf’s den and scared him out.”
My stomach drops, and I nearly vomit. “Don’t feel bad about falling for it, Alex. Until Father walked in and beat the shit out of me last night, I thought he was truly dead, too. He waited for the scotch to zap my strength. He’d been watching. Ha…motherfucker is always watching, isn’t he?”
I duck low next to my car, glancing wildly around me, wondering if this is some sort of trap, if there’s going to be a gunman, or hell, even a cop that’s supposed to come out here and shoot the shit out of me right now under some false, bribe-infested pretense my father drummed up.
“Don’t worry. You’re safe out there. I can read your mind…even from way up here. Always could; your poker face still sucks ass.” Grady laughs a little, but it’s a sad, pained sound. “Father left explosives, big ones, that I’m supposed to use to destroy this place once I knock you out up here. Everyone else in here—the doorman, and the people in the businesses below—were supposed to be casualties. News distraction. But I know how to get them out. I won’t do any of it. I’m ready to stand up to Father. Ready to be an uncle. A good uncle.”
The building’s fire alarm starts shrieking, and the security guard as well as the doorman who’s reporting to work along with a couple of maids come out into the street.
“Please, Alex! Go back now,” Grady whispers. “Find your family. Sneak in through the woods. Father just left here. He said he was going to start at the hunting lodge. He thinks it’s going to be easy. Mother’s been waiting for him in the little boathouse all night as ordered. He won’t be expecting you to be alive. He’s waiting for Jojo to show up there. He’ll be waiting for me and Mother, too.”
My brother’s voice still crackles from the phone but it sounds so very far away. My mind screams, telling my legs to move back into my car, mentally already working to make some sort of plan.
“Forgive yourself, Alex. We couldn’t have known. I’m with you now. I should have been with you all along.”
Sirens fill the air as I re-enter my car and slam the door shut. As I’m pulling away, a boom erupts that’s so huge the entire street under my car shakes. Glass, metal, and burning bits of fiery debris rain down on top my car and all around me. Ears ringing, and heart thundering with panic-adrenaline, I glance up, searching for Grady again, but I know he’s gone. More than gone.
The entire top half of the building is missing.
He saved me. But for what? If everything else Grady said is true, he’s saved me just in time to go back to my lake and find my sweet Jojo dead, my little girl hurt or worse, and under my Father’s fucked-up control.
“Fuck!” I shout, slamming my steering wheel with my fists, horrified that my brother just died right in front of me. Even more horrified by the thought that maybe Grady’s last move was not one of kindness at all. Maybe it was his last revenge. His way to end me slowly, because right now, maybe my brother has finally beat me. Being already dead seems the better place to be if Father’s still alive.
That thought forces me to clear my head. It makes me remember his last words. Grady didn’t beat me. He saved me. His voice ricochets in my head.
I’m with you now.
“Stay with me, Grady. Help me. God. Please. Please. Please.” I wipe tears off my face, but instead of speeding directly back to the lake house how I want to, I get my shit together enough to quickly circle around the burning building and pull my car around the side of it while I pull in my breath and force myself to think while I dial Jojo.
“Think, Alex. Think. If Father’s alive, what is he doing? Who is he watching? Think,” I order myself. My finger shakes and cramps just as I’m about to push CALL to tell Jojo what’s happening. Instead, I delete her number and nearly vomit all over again because I know I nearly almost ruined my advantage.
“Fuck!” I cry out again. I delete Jojo’s cell number and roll down my window to toss out my phone deep into the bushes at the base of the burning building. Of course Father’s tracking me; it’s something he’s always done. He’s probably been listening to each and every phone call and reading each text Jojo and I have shared. And he’s probably paid someone to hack into any and every text Jojo shares with her aunt, too.
I can’t risk texting or calling Jojo to warn her, because that would warn my father, too. Even though it hurts and it may kill Jojo, anyone involved in this latest fucked up Michael Sinclair plan needs to think I’m dead.
Just as the first police and firetruck sirens scream into the front of the building, I make a break away from my car, tucking my messenger bag under my arm and running full-tilt toward the car rental place nearby as though the devil himself is chasing me.
Because that’s what my father is. The Devil.
Only, this time, unlike all of the others, I am ready to die. I’m ready to take everyone and anyone I love with me before letting him win.
19.
Jojo, Present Day.
I wake in a jolt, suddenly not sure where I am. For a flash of a moment, everything around me is unfamiliar, but it sinks in soon.
I’m home. Home for now.
It’s my last day at the only real home that’s ever been just Alex’s and mine. I’m going to miss this lake terribly, but I can’t tell Alex that because it would crush him.
As much as I love this place that Alex built just for me, it’s enough having been able to spend t
hese few days in it. It will always be a part of my best memories, and I adore Alex for giving our reunion such a perfect backdrop.
Stretching my arms out above my head, I let the soft sheets fall from my body as I sit up and turn to find the bed empty next to me. There’s a note on the pillow with a small peppermint resting on top to weigh it down. I unwrap the candy and pull the page to my lap to read.
Good morning, Mrs. Wallace-Sinclair! Pack up anything you think you need, and gather all of Emily’s things to get ready to load. I’m out for a little adventure, but I’ll be back soon!
;-)
Alex
My mouth curls at his choice of words—out for a little adventure. I came here to bring him back from the brink and I did. He was never going to have adventures again, but all of that has changed now. From here forward, life is nothing but adventures for the three of us.
I’m sure he’s gone fishing, and I’m a little jealous. I would have woken up with the sun to join him. I was always a better fisherman anyhow, despite what I let him think. Before I let myself feel too bad though, I think about how this is also Alex’s chance to say goodbye to this place. He deserves his own time with the water and the trees.
I slip into my comfortable joggers and one of Alex’s shirts, and put on my best running shoes, wanting something comfortable for the long drive ahead. I twist my hair on top of my head and set off to work, taking care of the few things of mine in the bedroom drawers and closet, then wandering the other rooms of the house in search of things I’m sure we’ll need. There isn’t much, and honestly, some of the things I’ve collected we can easily live without. A few electronics like the Kindle and the portable speaker make it into a duffle bag along with chargers for our phones, medicines, bandages and alcohol pads. It’s a modern first-aid kit, but besides that and our clothes, there’s nothing else we really need. We have each other.
On my final lap, my eyes land on our old fishing rods, and though I know it’s silly and too sentimental because he’s got way better gear now, I feel slightly sad that he didn’t take the original rods that started it all between us on his last fishing trip to his lake.
Our lake…
I send Alex a text to see where he is and ask when he’s coming back. Smiling, I also tell him I love him. Then, I fire one off to Aunt Shelly: Is everyone awake over there?
Walking back into the bedroom, I sit down on the edge of the bed, staring at the duffle bags and suitcases that are full of my and Emily’s few belongings, along with whatever else I think might be useful to us on this road trip. It’s all packed and ready to go at my feet.
The phone is still balanced in my palm, but neither Alex or my aunt have responded yet. I will it—pray for it to buzz with a message from either of them.
Shelly writes back first.
All is well. Me and Walt are up, and we just got Emily moving. See you very soon.
I send back a quick okay, and still waiting for Alex’s response, I bring the phone into the bathroom with me, balancing it on the counter so I can see it light up while I shower, just in case I don’t hear it ding.
I end up staring at it through the glass shower the entire time, rushing through a quick shampoo and rinse. I stare while I towel off and slip back into my travel clothes. Even though I know it’s impossible to text when you’re fly-fishing, which is probably what he’s doing, I send Alex one more message.
Love? Can you at least tell me where you’ve gone? North side? South side? Catch anything? Text me an update if you get a chance. I’m nearly all packed. Feeling lonely…
My eyes catch on the hallway closet, and I decide to add some of Alex’s heavy coats to our pile of things. We haven’t discussed exactly where we’re going to settle yet, but I would like to try going back to Ohio. Jeff hasn’t terminated the lease on our apartment, so I’ll have to deal with that and all of the belongings Emily and I left behind anyhow. And maybe Alex will like it there. It’s as good a place as anywhere. There’s something quaint about Waterton, the small town that sheltered me for nearly six years. It snows there, blanketing the cottages with white pillows that turn the nearly century-old village into a Hallmark card every winter. The schools are great, staffed with teachers who have been in their same jobs for years, and Emily has friends there. The one thing I’ve missed out here is seeing my daughter laugh on the swings at the park with other kids her age. Wherever we land, it will be good to get our daughter back into a real routine.
As I load the jackets into transportable piles, I distract myself from this uneasy feeling that is settling in my gut by forcing myself to think about what’s next for us.
Maybe I can waitress again to keep the bills paid for a time, and Alex…he’ll be able to do anything. This clean slate will let him decide exactly the man he wants to be. No more business deals and land brokering, unless that’s what he wants. I have a feeling he won’t, though. I think his heart and mind are destined for greater things.
After nearly thirty more minutes have gone by, my worry starts to boil over, and still no texts have come in from Alex. I tell myself that it’s because he has hiked or maybe even canoed to the far side of the lake. There’s some rock outcroppings there, ones that kill all cell signal when you’re standing under them. Which is where he will be standing—if he is, in fact, fishing his favorite deep pools one last time.
I carry my phone with me outside and walk off the deck and onto the edge of our flat rock. I note there’s an odd haze in the sky, pollution from Seattle maybe? I don’t ponder over that much because I’m glancing down both shorelines, searching for Alex’s lone figure, or at least hoping to see ripples in the water or flashes of movement from where he may be casting or hiking back, but I see nothing.
Nothing at all.
“Alex!” His name comes back to me, echoing Alex…Alex.
I yell one more time, “Alex?”
Alex…Alex.
I hold my breath, watching a few fish leap and splash near me while I listen closely for his voice coming over the wind, or coming from the trail in the trees.
Still nothing.
I look at my phone and dial him directly this time, letting it ring and ring until it goes to voicemail, before repeating the call again. I call him five times. All end the same way. My gut is twisting so much now I have trouble breathing, and because I know I’m being silly, I send another text to Shelly, asking if she wants me to drive over and grab them, or if they prefer to walk home down the path?
It’s a lovely day, darling. Not far at all. We’ll walk to you, give you more time to pack.
I stare at her words, and wonder why her response has unnerved me even more, because suddenly I have this thought—that something is not right. Not right at all.
I respond quickly. I’ve packed all that I can pack.
I hit send and wait for her reply, watching as the typing dots wave at me for several long seconds.
Nonsense. There must be something you’ve missed. Take your time and check again.
My brow pulls in, that nagging worry now has every whistle alarming in my head about these texts. Something is really off. I respond again. I’m going to load our bags in the car, then I’ll hike out and meet you halfway. Cool?
I wait for a beat for her response, but she doesn’t reply right away this time. I put my phone in my back pocket and gather up the bags and the jackets and head toward the garage. I stop at the door when I feel my pocket buzz.
We shall need a little more time to get Emily situated with breakfast. But tell me when you’re on the way so we can watch for you, would you?
I answer. Yes. Sure, and thanks again Aunt Shelly.
She sounds different. Maybe she’s just cranky or tired. She could also be doing one of those talk-to-texts things while distracted trying to get Emily fed and ready to go. Emily can sometimes act like six cats all going in different directions.
Even though I know it’s irrational and very impatient of me, I dial Alex one more time, but just like every time b
efore, it goes to voicemail. The lure pin is sitting on the counter where I left it the night before, so I walk inside and grab it to tuck into my purse but pause before I put it away completely. I pull my hand back out to squeeze it tightly. I think I’ll hold it awhile. I think I need to.
“Damn, Alex. Where are you?”
* * *
I decide to brew myself a mug of coffee for the car ride, but before I flip it on, I catch the still-warm full cup Alex must have left for me. How long has this been here? I turn on the kitchen flat screen to get a handle on any weather we’ll be facing on our way out of town then pour my cup. After a sip, I head back to the bags in the bedroom and drag them all to the back garage door entry. Pulling it open, I hold the door there with my foot while I reach inside to feel for the light switch for the garage.
My heart skips a beat. Alex’s car is gone—the garage is empty!
It takes me two full seconds to understand what I’m seeing and work out how that fits with the scenario I had in my head. Alex hasn’t gone fishing. He’s driven somewhere.
I let the door go, but as it pulls back in, it drags a paper along with it that had been caught on the floor. I bend down and pick it up with my free hand, recognizing the crumpled deed we’d signed yesterday almost instantly.
Dialing Alex again, both hands quivering, I take the deed back inside, leaving everything else stacked by the door. I flatten the pages on the kitchen counter and begin to scan.
The word offspring has been underlined on the deed numerous times.
“Offspring…” I mutter, thinking that it’s referring to Grady and Alex, the offspring of Michael Sinclair, but then my eyes widen, shocked as I remember how my mom had also written about offspring and descendants in her sad and horrible letter that I found after the funeral. Only, as this reads, I realize the word offspring applies to Emily! We’ve all signed this and locked it into place—Emily’s fate!
Alex would have made sure her future was protected and sheltered from any of the feud bullshit, wouldn’t he? Or…God.” I gulp, reading every single word for myself as my heart drops through the floor. Instantly, I begin to drown in doubts and fears about the Sinclair family like a face punch. Alex told me last night that all of this was a done deal. He said it over and over again, but according to this, it’s not over.
