by Mary Carter
Then came the night that still shamed Grace to the core. It was before Lionel’s death, at the peak of the nasty rumors. Jody Sawyer climbed up to the tree house where Grace had been holed up every day after school.
“Do you know anything about this situation with Lionel Gale?” her mother asked. “Did Carrie Ann say anything to you?”
Grace looked at her mother’s face, contorted in worry. “No,” Grace said. “She didn’t say a word.”
To this day her insides burned in shame. Why didn’t she just tell her mother that she hadn’t told because she knew Carrie Ann was lying? Her mother would have understood that. But just the fact that her mother had asked, in that voice ripe with concern, made Grace’s blood feel like ice water running through her veins. Did it mean she should have told? Did it mean her mother thought that Carrie Ann might be telling the truth?
Then, one night, came another message from Carrie Ann. A note. Left in her tree house. It was the most frantic Grace had ever heard Carrie Ann.
Please. Help me. Come tonight. You’re my sister. I need you. Meet me in the hayloft.
Below the note was a drop of blood. Grace ran to the Gales’ house as fast as she could. She took the woods between their homes, tripped on several tree roots in her haste, then stumbled yet again at the entrance to their farm.
She passed the tree where Stan’s tire swing usually hung. The tire was lying on the grass. The barn door was open. Just barely, just enough for Grace to slip through. A single light was shining in the middle of the barn. Grace took slow, quiet steps. As soon as she neared the hayloft, she saw something hovering in midair.
Shoes. Brown, leather, size-eleven shoes. Big, shiny brown shoes hovering right in front of her face. The smell of shoe polish was overpowering. At first, her brain couldn’t compute what she was seeing. She thought it must be Carrie Ann, practicing magic. She’s made a man float, Grace actually thought. Until Grace looked up, past the gleaming shoes. Lionel Gale dangled in front of her, hanging from the rafters by a thick, braided rope. Later she would realize it was the rope from Stan’s tire swing. Lionel was the first dead person Grace had ever seen. The spotlight had been aimed directly at his face.
His face bulged, his skin was purple above the neck, and blood was dripping from his eyes. His blood vessels had burst. Grace didn’t know a cadaver could look so gruesome. She whimpered. Then she moaned, and finally, she opened her mouth and screamed. And she screamed, and she screamed, and she screamed. She wished she hadn’t.
She wished she had it to do over. She would calmly, bravely walk up to Lydia’s house, and tell Lydia she was very sorry but she needed to call the police. Instead, Grace’s screams brought Lydia flying from the house and into the barn. The horrific sight, coupled with Grace’s hysteria, brought Lydia Gale to her knees. Grace would never again be able to imagine Lydia smiling, standing in the middle of the art room in her beautiful homemade skirts, smelling of vanilla or lavender, encouraging the children with what seemed to be an endless well of optimism. Instead, Grace would see Lydia on her knees, rocking back and forth, fists in her mouth to keep from screaming, head bent down and blond curls kissing the dirt.
Two things hit Grace as she replayed that awful memory. One: Carrie Ann had told her she hadn’t left the first note. So, what if she hadn’t left the second note either? What if someone else had lured her out to the barn to find Lionel Gale?
And two: His shoes. They were so shiny. So polished. Gleaming. They looked like shoes that had never even touched the ground. Wouldn’t there be some little scuff, at the least some disturbance to them from when Lionel had hanged himself? Or was Grace just imagining how shiny the shoes were—was it a detail she’d exaggerated in the trauma of the moment?
All these years it had haunted Grace that Lionel Gale, before he had slipped the rope around his neck and stepped into thin air, had stopped and taken the time to thoroughly shine his shoes. It meant something. Grace didn’t know what. But she knew. All these years, like a secret message, like a name written in blood, those shoes had been trying to tell her something.
CHAPTER 39
Grace paced her room at the villa. She looked again at the text message Stan had sent her in the whispering room.
Be mine and I will set them free.
She took a deep breath and texted back.
Release Carrie Ann and Jake. Then I will be yours.
If Carrie Ann and Stan thought they were going to get away with this little prank, they had another think coming. She knew she should feel relieved. This was just a sick game. She wasn’t in any real danger. Jake wasn’t in any real danger. So then why didn’t she feel relieved? Why was this heavy feeling of dread still lodged in her stomach? God, all those awful things she’d said about Stan right to his face. She tried to remember every single comment, and her stomach knotted more with each remembrance.
She was going to have to make sure she didn’t let on that she knew. Thanks to Carrie Ann’s securing a singing spot for her at the Grec Festival de Barcelona, Grace actually had a plan, a chance of turning this prank around. Every time she thought of the lengths they’d gone to, to pull this off, rage threatened to bring her down. Part of her wanted to confront Stan the minute he returned to the hotel. He and Carrie Ann had actually drugged and kidnapped Jake and Grace. They would not get away with this. They would not. She didn’t know if her plan was going to work, but she was sure as hell going to try.
She’d arrange for them all to come together at the festival, and once she was reunited with Jake, they would actually disappear. For good this time. Carrie Ann and Stan wouldn’t get the pleasure of saying “Gotcha,” that was for sure. Grace would love it if Carrie Ann and Stan would get a little visit from the Spanish police, but at this point she just wanted to get as far away from them as possible. Maybe she’d hire an attorney when she was safely back in the States, and figure out her options. Grace pulled out the calling card she had bought at the market and made her phone call. Jim Sawyer answered on the first ring.
“Dad?” Grace said. “It’s me.”
“Grace, finally.” Her father sounded agitated, which wasn’t like him.
“Dad?”
“There have been some really strange things on your Facebook page, Grace. And then an official from the American embassy called me yesterday asking all sorts of strange questions about you.”
“Oh, God.”
“I’ve been telling everyone that my little girl is not a liar. I didn’t know what to make of that picture of you kissing another fellow. And now I have Jake’s mother calling me and telling me that she thinks you’re lying to her about Jake—and that she talked to him, but he sounded funny. Grace—what are you mixed up in?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, Dad. But it’s true. Carrie Ann is here—and all my ID was stolen, and Jake was kidnapped.”
“This sounds like your mother’s soap opera. This can’t be real.”
“Dad. It is real. Or at least it was. Stan Gale is here too, Dad.”
“Are you kidding?”
“No. I don’t have much time to explain.”
“You have to say something.”
“Carrie Ann and Stan did this to mess with me. They’re playing a game.”
“The embassy said that the Spanish police suspect that you stole Carrie Ann’s ID and her diamond ring. I told them my daughter is no thief. But I also didn’t think my daughter made out in dance clubs with men who were not her boyfriend.”
“Dad—please. Listen to me. It’s all a setup.”
“I want you on the next plane home.”
“I have to find Jake, Dad. I’ve figured out how to meet up with him, and I need your help.”
There was no hesitation. “Tell me exactly what you want me to do,” he said. And so she did. “Wait,” her father said before she hung up. “Happy birthday, Gracie.”
A lump formed in Grace’s throat. She’d forgotten all about it. Her birthday. She would turn thirty tomorrow. “Thanks, Dad.
And give my love to Mom.”
By the time Stan arrived back at the hotel, Grace was ready for him. She was out on the balcony, with her guitar.
“I’m so glad you’re here.” She took a moment to really look at him. Was there any part of him that looked like the old Stan? It was truly a remarkable transformation. He was in such good shape. His hair was lighter and out of his eyes. He did have some acne scarring, but nothing drastic. If those colored contacts had come out, and he had dropped the accent, she still probably wouldn’t have known. But now that she knew it was Stan, the creepy feeling was back tenfold.
She felt like such a hypocrite. Just last night she had been thinking about kissing him. Maybe part of her aversion to him back when they were kids had been out of jealousy. She had been a young girl, and she had just wanted to be with Carrie Ann. Would telling him she was sorry change anything? Why was he still holding such a grudge after all these years? He must be thrilled, thinking he had completely snowed her. And he would be right. Not only had she not recognized him, but she had lusted after him as well. Carrie Ann had pulled off her greatest trick of all. She had probably been instrumental in giving Stan this makeover. She’d always wanted to make someone disappear, and she had. She had made Stan Gale disappear in plain sight. It was payback time. Grace stepped up to Stan and put her arms around him. This time, as they hugged, she didn’t pull away. “I’m sorry,” she said.
Stan backed up, held her at arm’s length. “What for?”
“Getting mad at you about Jake. You were right.”
“About what?”
“I think Jake is in on this with Carrie Ann and Stan.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. I think he’s been having an affair with Carrie Ann. Which makes much more sense than Carrie Ann’s being with a loser like Stan.” Grace cringed a little to say this, but it was exactly what Stan deserved. She would have just run out of the hotel and gone back to Barcelona without him, but she got the feeling he was the one giving the go-ahead to Rafael, and she needed everyone to go along with the upcoming rendezvous.
“So what is your plan?” Stan said. Was it her imagination or was he already losing the accent?
“I need your help. Because they aren’t going to like this.” She forced herself to look up at Stan.
“Why not?” Stan said. His voice was a whisper.
“Because it involves my doing this again,” Grace said. And with that, she put her arms around him, pulled his face close to hers, and kissed him. Stan was stunned at first, then slowly responded. Then abruptly, he pulled away.
“This is part of your plan?” he said.
“Yes,” Grace said. “But I wanted to do that.”
“Why? Don’t get me wrong. I want to do that too. But you . . . Why now?”
“Don’t make me say it; I feel too guilty.”
Stan stepped forward. The intensity in his eyes was startling. “You have to say it.”
“I have these feelings for you, all right? But I can’t act on them. Not yet.”
“Not yet?”
“I don’t think Jake is in any real danger. I think I’m being played. And even though I don’t think Jake is Stan, I do think Jake’s involved in this.”
“How so?”
“Look at how he’s been acting! He took Carrie Ann’s hand in front of me at Park Güell. Then there’s that video—he’s not handcuffed. He could have walked away. Instead, what does he do? Questions who the hell I am. Carrie Ann admitted that she’s been in Nashville—she’s seen me play in concerts. I think they’ve been having an affair that began long before this trip.”
“My God.”
“I know. I just don’t know why Carrie Ann bothered to involve Stan at all. She must have used him just to get Rafael. I mean Stan didn’t mastermind this—he’s not smart, he’s not strong, and he’s certainly not the type a girl like Carrie Ann would ever have any romantic feelings for. I feel so dumb that I didn’t realize it was a big, fat joke the minute she said she had actually married him.”
Stan turned around for a minute and pretended to look out at the ocean. Maybe Grace had taken it a bit too far. Then she thought about how he’d been deceiving her this whole time. He was lucky she hadn’t called the police or planned to stab him in his sleep.
“I thought you haven’t seen Stan since you were a kid.”
“I haven’t. Thank God.”
“Maybe he’s changed. People change.”
“Not Stan.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’ll bet he still lives with his mother. His own Bates Motel.” Grace cringed as she said the words and saw Stan’s eyes darken. To his credit, he quickly recovered.
“I’ll take your word for it. I don’t know any of them. I mean—I barely met Carrie Ann.”
“I’m so lucky I’ve met you. You’re almost too good to be true. You haven’t been lying to me, have you?”
“What do you mean?” Stan’s voice was tight.
“Someone as gorgeous as you? And that accent. God, it really gets to me. You aren’t hiding a girlfriend or wife back home, are you?”
Stan broke out into a grin. “I’m a free man,” he said.
“Good. I have a plan to get back at them. Are you in?”
“I guess it depends on what it is.” Grace had been waiting for this. She handed him the flyer. “Grec Festival de Barcelona,” Stan read. “I don’t get it,” he said.
“I’m supposed to play at this concert. Carrie Ann set it up as a surprise. Let’s get them to meet us there.”
“Then what?” Stan said.
“I play them the song I wrote about our childhood tragedy. In front of a huge crowd. In front of Carrie Ann, and Jake, and Stan.”
“Why?”
“Because Carrie Ann might be doing this just because she’s sick in the head—but I think Stan is doing this because he thinks I’m the one who spread ugly rumors about his father. He holds me responsible for his father’s suicide.”
Stan gave a low whistle. “Let’s say you’re right. So this song—this apology—you think that will be enough?”
“I think it’s a start. I think Stan wants to see me. And I think I need to see him. I need him to hear what I have to say.”
“Let’s just forget about all of this and take off on our own.”
“I need closure with Jake. And I need to look Carrie Ann in the eye and tell her that her prank didn’t work. Then, I need Stan to hear the truth. From me. And that’s it. I’m done. I walk away. With you.” Stan put his arms around her waist and pulled her in. It took everything in her not to push him away. Instead, she played with a button on his shirt. “I think of all of them there might be hope for Stan. Maybe he’ll see the light.”
“The light? What exactly is the light?”
“You of all people should know. All of your experiences in the Congo—the danger, the threats, the constant heaviness. You must know. Stan has probably spent the rest of his life since that Tuesday night when his father hanged himself in torment. Absolute torment.” Grace stopped for a minute, took in their surroundings. The water was so peaceful. Small fishing boats bobbed along the shore, kissed by the afternoon sun. “The light is freedom, Jean Sebastian. The light is coming out of hiding and speaking the truth. The light is finally letting go.”
CHAPTER 40
Carrie Ann and Jake sat at their usual table at the café near the apartment. Rafael sat on the opposite wall right near the door. His knee hadn’t stopped bouncing since they had arrived. Jake got the distinct feeling that something was up.
“Did you notice the schedule is different today?” Jake said. The music festival was tomorrow. Grace’s birthday was tomorrow. He should be with her, talking her into singing, and celebrating her birthday. Proposing even. But, no. They were still hostages. And instead of being allowed out for lunch, they were sitting in the café at breakfast time. Something was happening, he could feel it.
“No,” Carrie Ann said.
�
�We’re here a half an hour early.”
“Whoopie.”
“You’re missing my point. See how Rafael keeps looking at the door?”
“Do you think they’re coming?” Carrie Ann sat up straight, and some life actually came back into her eyes.
“I doubt that very much. But I definitely think Rafael is expecting someone.”
“What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that if Grace hasn’t figured out he’s Stan by now, that she’s not going to. We have to do something.”
“He won’t react well if we try and trick him.”
“Do you think he would really hurt her?”
“A few days ago I would have said not on your life. But he’s surprised me. This was supposed to be my plan. I was supposed to disappear. He not only defied it; he took it to a whole new level.”
“If all he wants is some kind of grand apology, why doesn’t he just tell her that? I know she’d do it.”
“I don’t know. He’s not communicating with me.” The door to the café opened, and the man Grace called the doorman-who-doesn’t-open-any-doors walked in. Jake felt a pang, like a hit to the gut. He missed his Grace. Everything about her, including her cute little sayings. He was never going to let her go again. Carrie Ann had finally told him everything. Grace had been carrying the guilt of Lionel Gale’s suicide all these years. It explained a lot. Jake’s desire to protect her and heal her was stronger than ever. It wasn’t her fault. And after spending just a little time around Carrie Ann, he could only imagine what years of being around her could do to a young girl. He had to see Grace. Hell, he was probably going to ask her to marry him the second he saw her. Please be all right. He wanted nothing more than to get his hands on Stan Gale. Rafael too for that matter. Up until Carrie Ann’s recent confession, Jake had just thought that Jean Sebastian was helping Stan. He had had no idea Jean Sebastian was Stan. It made Jake’s blood boil. During one of their phone calls, Grace had asked him if he’d seen Stan. Carrie Ann had emphatically nodded yes. And so he had fibbed. If he hadn’t, maybe Grace would have figured it out sooner. There were so many things he wished he could take back. Instead, he had to focus on getting away from Rafael.
