Legacy of Lies

by Элизабет Чандлер

  Standing up, I turned toward the door and ran my hands over the top portion until I felt a bolt. After several tries, I slid it back and pulled open the upper half of the door, letting in more light.

  When I turned to face the basement again, I gasped. At the far end of the long room were wheels-big gears-one interlocking with the next, the largest as tall as 1.1 was in the basement of my dream, where I had hidden from Matt. I sank down on the doorstep, afraid to cross to the other side, afraid to get close to those wheels.

  How had I come to dream of this place? I doubted I was reading the images of my mother’s mind. The voice, the dreams, awakening in Avril’s room, the movement of objects to where Avril would expect them-it was Avril I was connecting with.

  My skin felt cold and clammy. I stood up quickly. “Leave me alone,” I said, stumbling out of the entrance. “Just leave me alone!”

  Matt, who had been hovering a short distance away, heard me. He stepped back, turned abruptly, and strode up the hill to his Jeep.

  Neither of us spoke on the way home. I knew Matt thought that I was telling him to leave me alone, but there wasn’t much I could do about it. He wouldn’t believe I had been talking to a ghost.

  He parked in front of the house and got out of the Jeep without glancing at me. Following him up the porch steps, I noticed the clay and mud caked on the thick rubber soles of his Nikes.

  “Our shoes are a mess,” I said, sitting down on a bench to remove mine. He checked his, then sat opposite me. By the time he started unlacing his shoes, mine were off and I was carrying them into the house.

  Grandmother met me, coming through the door from the back wing. “You’re late.”

  “For dinner?” I glanced up at the landing clock. It wasn’t five yet.

  She stared at my shoes. “What were you doing after work?”

  “Hanging out.”

  Matt came in the door and Grandmother’s eyes darted to his shoes. Color rose in her cheeks. “Where have you been?”

  Though the question was fired at him, I answered, since the trip had been my idea. “To the mill.”

  “Why did you take her there?” Grandmother demanded, still focusing on Matt.

  I saw the wary look on his face. “1 asked him to,” I said.

  “I’m not talking to you.”

  “Megan wanted to see the place,” Matt replied, “and I thought it’d be safer if I went with her.”

  “Megan wanted to see the place,” Grandmother mimicked.

  “I did,” I said. “I was curious.”

  Grandmother took a step toward me. “I told you the day you came that I expected you to respect my privacy. Didn’t I?”

  I nodded silently.

  “I’m speaking to you now. Answer me aloud!”

  “Yes, Grandmother.” I couldn’t snap at her. If I was feeling haunted by Avril’s presence, I could only imagine how she felt.

  “So now you’re going to be sweet and soft-spoken,” she observed, her lips curling. “Sweet and sneaky.”

  “Ease up, Grandmother,” Matt said. “Did you ever tell Megan not to go to the mill?”

  “Are you defending her?”

  “All I’m saying is you’re getting all worked up over a little visit to the mill,” he replied.

  “And Lydia Riley,” she added.

  I looked at Grandmother, surprised. “Who told you that?”

  “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you promise not to speak to her again.”

  “Why?”

  “Don’t talk back to me!” Her voice was shrill.

  I sat down on the steps, hoping to make this a conversation rather than an irrational shouting match. “I wasn’t talking back,” I explained. “I was just wondering-”

  “You’re living in my house, you’ll follow my rules.”

  I bit my lip, then nodded.

  Matt rested a hand on her arm. “Grandmother, be fair.

  Megan was just asking-” She turned on him. “I don’t have to explain my rules to anyone, including you, Matt.” Her jaw began to shake. “I can’t trust you anymore. Not since she’s come.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “You’re loyal to her now.”

  He stared at Grandmother. It was as if he had to be on her side, or my side, and wasn’t allowed to care about both of us at the same time.

  “Get a hold of yourself,” he said, and walked out the back door of the hall.

  Grandmother stood in front of me, her head held high, then strode into the library and shut the door behind her.

  I remained sitting on the steps, bewildered by her jealous suspicions. Some wounds heal, others fester, Mrs. Riley had said. Maybe Grandmother had never really healed from her first betrayal. Matt was the most significant person in her life now, and she the most consistent person in his. I wondered if she saw me as someone like Avril, putting myself between them. Maybe Grandmother was afraid of losing out again.

  Well, that was her problem. She was the one who chose to spin her world around one grandchild, rejecting my parents and brothers and me. I rose and climbed the stairs, feeling torn between pity and anger. Then I heard the machinery of the big clock begin to wind. I took the steps two at a time, hurrying past before it could start its dismal tolling.

  twelve

  Wednesday morning I saw Matt just long enough to ask if I could pick up my e-mail from his computer. When he’d left for school, Grandmother informed me that she had an early appointment. I didn’t ask where, not after yesterday’s reminder about her privacy. She drove off and I went upstairs to retrieve my mail. I had several messages from friends at home, but it was Mom’s letter I was most eager to open. I printed it out, deleted the electronic copy, then sat back to read.

  Hi, Sweetheart!

  Dad and I loved your e-mail. We felt like we were back on High Street again.

  Life here isn’t the same without you. Pete and Dave have both said they miss you, though I promised them I wouldn’t squeal (crossed my fingers).

  In your note you barely mentioned Grandmother. I know you, Megan, and I worry when you get silent. I’m counting on you to let me know if there’s a problem.

  So you found the dollhouse! It was built for Grandmother and her sister. I played with it as a kid, but I can’t find a photo of it anywhere.

  Why do you ask?

  About Aunt Avril. Neither Mother nor Dad spoke much of her. I’ve never even seen her picture — perhaps they were all put away when she died. We weren’t supposed to ask questions about her. Dad said it made Mother sad to think about her sister. I do remember putting birthday flowers on her grave in April — Avril is the French word for that month. In October, too — I think that’s when she died.

  She had a close friend named Angel, Angel Cayton. Angel’s father was a doctor, and someone told me that Avril was brought to him the night she died. That’s as much as I know.

  Everyone’s well here. The Naughtons’ spaniel had puppies. Write soon. And this time don’t leave out whatever you were trying to skirt around in your last e-mail.

  Love, Mom I printed out my friends’ notes, then logged off. As soon as I got to work, I’d ask Ginny to help me find Avril’s friend.

  “Angel Cayton,” Ginny said, stuffing tissue down the arms of a pale silk dress that was decorated with seed pearls.

  She and I had put the dress on a seamstress form so Ginny could photograph it for an out-of-town client. “I haven’t thought about her in ages. She died fifteen, no, must be twenty years ago now. Angel was a character-very active in town affairs and generous with her money. She started the Watermen’s Fund.”

  “Did she leave behind any family?” I asked, though I had little hope of someone remembering stories they were told more than twenty years ago.

  “I don’t think so. Evie?”

  Evie Brown, one of our elderly customers who came by almost every day, was standing in front of a mirror, trying purses on her arm.

  “Evie, do you know if Angel
Cayton has any family left around here?”

  Miss Brown chewed over the name for a moment.

  “Nope,” she said at last. “Angel was an only child and never married. Her sweetheart, Sam Tighe, died in the last war.”

  “That’s World War 11,” Ginny whispered to me.

  “Angel got killed in a car accident, didn’t she-yes, I’m sure,” Miss Brown answered herself. “Out Talbot Road on Dead Man’s Curve. Though Angel was the only one who ever died there. Why we don’t call it Dead Woman’s Curve, I just don’t know. The county never gets things straight.”

  “I don’t think the county named the curve,” Ginny said gently.

  “State’s just as bad,” the woman responded, then reached for a red purse on a peg beyond her grasp. I walked over and lifted it down.

  “Sorry we can’t help you out,” Ginny told me.

  “What’s the problem?” the old woman asked, taking the red purse from me, then looping the others she had tried on my arm, as if I were a store rack.

  “I was hoping to talk to Miss Cayton,” I replied.

  “Then try Lydia Riley. She’s good at ringing through to the other side.”

  I heard Ginny swallow a giggle.

  “I’m surprised your grandmother didn’t suggest that,” Evie added. “Helen was over there today.”

  She added the red purse to my arm.

  “Over where?”

  “Seeing Lydia Riley. Right before my appointment this morning.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Are you saying I get mixed up?” Miss Brown asked, her eyes flashing.

  “No, no. I’m surprised, that’s all.”

  “Me, too,” she agreed amiably. “Far as I know, they haven’t spoken for years. Can’t imagine what they had to talk about.” She peered up at me inquisitively. “Can you?”

  “No,” I said, imagining a lot of things.

  * * * Sophie dropped by the shop that afternoon. After finishing up with a customer, I joined her at the jewelry case.

  She was leaning on her elbows, gazing down at the aquamarine pendant.

  “Guess what?” I said. “We have another invite for tomorrow night. A party,” She straightened up and smiled. “Whose? The only party I know about is Kristy’s.”

  “That’s it.”

  Her face fell. “I wasn’t invited, and I don’t think Kristy would be thrilled if I just showed up. I haven’t been part of her crowd since middle school. You go to the party, and we can see the movie Friday night.”

  “But you’re not crashing it,” I told her. “Matt is asking you.”

  “Matt?” Sophie’s cheeks grew pink. “Kristy will kill me!

  “But I thought you liked him. And I thought you said he doesn’t date one person.”

  “I do like him. And he doesn’t date one person. And she’ll still be mad as anything.”

  “Who cares? You can talk to me at the party. I’m going with Alex.”

  “Oh! I have to think about this, Megan.”

  “Alex said you used to be best friends.”

  “Yeah, forever ago.” Sophie went over to the silk dress Ginny had put on the seamstress form and traced its seed pearl design with her finger. Ginny came out of the storeroom, eyed Sophie, then eyed the dress. She held her head to one side and squinted, an action that usually meant we were about to rearrange a display.

  Sophie turned back to me. “Alex and I used to spend every day together at school and during the summer, crabbing time,” she said. “He could always convince me to chicken neck off the bridge at four in the morning. I was the only person who’d go out with him in his old boat in pouring rain to set a trot line. I really liked being around him and the water.”

  “Then this should be fun.”

  Sophie didn’t look so sure. “I hope he’s forgotten about the valentine I sent him in fifth grade.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “It was so embarrassing. Alex wanted to hang out with the guys, and they wouldn’t let a girl tag along. I wanted him to know he was important to me, so I made him this valentine heart. I drew crab legs around it for lace, and a boat oar for the arrow.”

  I laughed out loud and Sophie blushed.

  “One of his friends found it and showed it to everyone.

  They teased him awful. That was pretty much it for Alex and his girl friend.”

  She paused and watched Ginny, who opened the jewelry case and took out the aquamarine pendant.

  “Listen, Sophie,” I said, “if there’s one thing I’ve learned about guys, it’s that they don’t remember sentimental things, not even a heart with crab legs for lace. Besides, that was fifth grade. I think Alex has changed his mind about hanging out with girls.”

  She laughed a little. “I guess so.”

  “So think about it,” I told her. “We’ll do whatever you want to do.”

  “Sophie, don’t go anywhere,” Ginny said. “I need a favor.

  Would you put on this dress and let me take your picture?”

  “The pearl dress? Oh, my gosh!” Sophie gasped.

  “I think that’s a yes,” I said.

  Ginny undid the buttons and removed the dress from the form. “Let’s see now,” she said, talking to herself more than us, “we’re going to need some shoes, and let’s put your hair up on your head, so a nice comb, soft ivory pearls for that red hair.” Ginny picked up an armful of items, then ushered Sophie to the dressing room in the back.

  I served two customers, waiting for Sophie to come out.

  When the bells hanging on the shop door jingled a third time, I looked up to see Alex and Matt in their running clothes.

  “Let me guess,” I said, “you’re interested in lace hankies.”

  Alex grinned. “Do you have any that match our shorts?”

  “White goes with everything,” I replied.

  Matt flashed a smirky, flirty smile.

  “So, what’s up?”

  “Have you talked to Sophie?” Alex asked. “Does she want to go to the party?”

  “She’s still deciding.” I heard Ginny’s voice coming from the back. “If you wait a minute, you can ask her yourself.”

  Ginny emerged from the dressing room, followed by Sophie. I don’t know who was more amazed at the sight of the other, Alex or Sophie.

  “Nice dress!” Matt complimented Sophie.

  The silk and slender pearls were as shimmering and delicate as Sophie herself. Her upswept hair showed off her high cheekbones and long neck. The aquamarine pendant was the same misty blue as her eyes. Neither Alex nor Matt could stop looking at her.

  “Sophie,” Alex said, “for a minute I didn’t know you. You, uh, you’ve grown up.”

  She frowned. “Since math class? You saw me in math today, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah.” He reddened. “I guess it’s the dress and all.”

  “No,” Ginny corrected him, “it’s the girl in the dress and all. Okay, honey, let’s get your picture over here.”

  Alex, for once, had been left speechless, so Matt took care of their mission. “Are we on for tomorrow night?” he asked Sophie.

  She glanced at me.

  “It’s your call,” I said.

  She smiled. “Sure.”

  Matt volunteered to drive and arranged pickup times, then the guys left. I watched Ginny pose Sophie, thinking that if her camera could catch the glow on Sophie’s face, it was a sure sale.

  When Sophie had changed back into her school clothes, I took a break and walked her over to the Mallard. As soon as we were on the street, I told her about my conversation with Mrs. Riley.

  “It’s starting to really scare me, Sophie,” I said. “I wake up in a room-1 guess I sleepwalked-and find out it was Avril’s.

  Things are moved to where they were when Avril was alive. I dream of a place I’ve never seen, then see it for real-the mill where Avril and Thomas used to meet, where she went the night she died. I feel like she’s haunting me.”

  “I wonder why she�
�d choose you,” Sophie mused, “other than the fact that you may be psychic,” she added slyly.

  “I think it’s happening to Grandmother, too. I know the relocation of things is getting to her.”

  “And Matt?”

  “He knows something he’s not telling me. And he wants me to leave.”

  We were standing in front of the window of Tea Leaves.

  Jamie passed by inside and waved to us.

  “Did Miss Lydia say anything about how Avril died?”

  Sophie asked.

  When I recounted both versions of the event, Sophie’s eyes lit up. “Maybe Avril is trying to set the story straight.

  There are lots of stories of murder victims haunting people and places until the truth is known.”

  “The death was an accident,” I reminded her.

  “Maybe,” she replied, and walked on to a bench in front of the Mallard.

  I sat down with her. There was one thing I’d been holding off telling her, and I needed to get it out.

  “I saw the ghost.”

  Her eyes opened wide. “You did? When? Where?”

  “A couple nights ago, in the upstairs hall. I saw her in the mirror.”

  Sophie got a funny look on her face. “In the mirror?”

  I nodded. “She looked like a mist.”

  Sophie gazed down at the sidewalk, tracing the shape of a brick with her toe. “Have you ever seen her outside the mirror?”

  “No, but I saw her only once.”

  “When you passed the mirror,” Sophie said.

  “Ye-ah. .” She was making me uneasy. “What is it?”

  “Megan, the way you talked about your dreams, I thought you were seeing the future or tapping into your mother’s past. But maybe that’s not it. What if you’ve been remembering places and objects that you saw in your own past?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What if you’re Avril-reincarnated?”

  I pulled back. “Now you’re getting weird.”

  “It makes sense,” she argued. “When you returned to your old house, you instinctively went to your old room. You put your clock back where you kept it. Since the mill was important to you, you noticed a painting of it that seemed out of place.”