The Secrets of Lost Stones

by Melissa Payne

  “It was from a friend,” Lucy said.

  Jess nodded. “I guess so.”

  “Was there a name?”

  Jess was taken aback. An odd question that seemed intimate and irrelevant at the same time. “Um, no, it wasn’t signed. It was just a picture of two stick people and a rainbow.”

  Lucy threaded her arm through Jess’s and leaned heavily into her as though she’d grown suddenly very tired. “Yes, yes, that makes sense,” Lucy said, but her words came out garbled.

  Jess sprang into caretaker mode, relieved to end the conversation but also worried about Lucy. “I think you may need to sit down, okay?” She led the elderly woman down the hall and to the deep leather chair in her bedroom. Lucy sat down but clasped Jess’s hands between her own, searching Jess’s face with her blue eyes.

  “She’ll be here soon,” she said. “And she’s going to be hungry.”

  Jess gently pulled her hands out of Lucy’s surprisingly strong grasp and patted her arm. “I’ll make those cucumber and sprout sandwiches she likes.” Jess had learned quickly that Ebee was a lifelong vegetarian after serving her a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich the first time they met. “Why don’t you rest for a bit until she gets here? I’ll bring up one of your crossword puzzles.”

  The deep lines in Lucy’s face relaxed. She nodded and settled back into her chair. Jess breathed out, relieved to see that whatever it was had passed. She tightened her ponytail and resolved to make Lucy a doctor’s appointment. They needed to find out what was causing these episodes.

  Lucy had ended up lying down, obviously exhausted, and since Ebee had yet to show up, Jess set to cleaning that morning’s breakfast dishes. She loaded plates and silverware and a frying pan into the sink along with a squirt of dish soap. When the bubbles grew higher than the dishes, Jess slipped her hands into the hot water.

  Lucy had asked twice more if Jess had checked the calendar, and it was still early morning. She’d gently reminded her that the calendar was blank. Maybe Ebee has other plans, she’d suggested.

  Lucy had looked at her like she’d grown two heads and said, Of course Ebee has other plans. Jess had just smiled and shaken her head.

  Cool air tickled the backs of her arms, like someone had left a door open. She yanked her hands out of the water, splattering soapsuds across the counter. Had she forgotten to close the front door after she took the trash out that morning? She turned from the sink and stopped cold. An uneasy feeling rippled across her skin. She tried to ignore it as she approached the calendar.

  Lucy’s small script filled the once-empty square. Jess blinked. She had been in the kitchen or close by for the last hour. When had Lucy written that? She shook her head—she must have been looking at the wrong square—and peered closer to read.

  10:00, will ring doorbell

  She picked up her phone, checked the time—9:59 a.m.—and laid it back on the counter. Before the screen dimmed, the time changed—10:00 a.m.

  A shrill rriiinngg cut through the silence of the big house. She jumped, hand to her chest, finding it hard to get a deep breath. God, she was jumpy. She pulled her shirtsleeves down and made her way to the foyer. The inner door stood partially open. She frowned. She’d have to remember to pull it tight next time or Lucy’s heating bills would go through the roof.

  She stepped into the enclosed porch and with both hands took hold of the heavy outer door. Her breath frosted in the air, and her skin prickled at the sudden chill that permeated the unheated porch. It was May, but she was quickly learning that in the foothills the spring thaw moved on its own timeline. Through the colorful window she caught the outline of a small figure standing just outside the door. She hesitated, thinking of the boy at the market. Don’t be silly—the kid’s not following you.

  She pulled open the door, gave a soft gasp. Star, the girl from the street, looking much the same as she had yesterday, if with darker circles bruising the skin beneath her eyes. Her wild hair sprang from her head in a cloud of tangles that fell across her face in clumps, and she wore clothes that were nothing more than layers of stained and ill-fitting rags, well past an expiration date.

  Jess softened. The girl acted brave, with her chin held high and her arms crossed tight, but Jess could see apprehension etched in the crease between her eyes. What was she doing in Pine Lake? “Hello, Star,” she said, and scrunched her eyebrows together. “What a surprise. I wasn’t expecting you.”

  Star tightened her fist around the note. “Lucy invited me to come,” she said from behind a strand of hair.

  Jess gripped the doorknob tight. What was Lucy thinking? She could get in trouble for bringing a runaway kid here instead of calling social services. Or, Jess hoped, maybe that’s what Lucy intended to do. Maybe she just wanted to get Star off the streets first. Jess pressed her lips together, stunned by her own inaction yesterday when all she had offered was a couple of phone numbers on an envelope. How could she have walked away? Her face burned with shame. At least Lucy’s heart was in the right place.

  Star shifted her feet and lifted her chin a little higher, and Jess felt something hard lodge in her throat. How had this girl survived even one night on the streets? She was small, tiny in fact, her features delicate and completely dwarfed by her mane of uncontrollable hair. From her size, she appeared to be no more than a child, but from her confidence and the way she held herself, straight backed, almost proud, Jess suspected she was older.

  “Aren’t you gonna say something?” Star’s words were tough, but her voice quavered just the tiniest bit.

  Jess’s mind had emptied, and her skin suddenly felt too tight across her back. She rolled her shoulders and tried to relax. She knew she was being insensitive by not inviting Star inside right away, but something kept her hand on the doorknob, her body blocking the way in. She couldn’t explain how a girl so small could make her uneasy, but something about her did. “How old are you?” she said at last.

  “Fifteen.”

  The number hit her with a force that made her heart expand momentarily, releasing bits of sorrow stuck into its deepest cavities. This girl was nearly as old as Jess had been when her mom kicked her out. Had she looked this young when she became a mother?

  The desire to be away from Star clutched at her throat, and a sharp pain at the base of her hand sent a tingling numbness creeping up her arm. She glanced down and stifled a gasp. Her nails had left puffy red marks across her wrist. She looked up to find Star staring at where the inflamed flesh bunched up and around silvery white scars.

  Star’s eyes widened. “Whoa,” she said. “Is that what I think it is?” She reached out as though to touch her, but Jess pulled her sleeves down past her palms and crossed her arms.

  When Star raised her eyes, Jess saw a softness touch her face that hinted at understanding. Jess stepped onto the porch, opening her mouth to say something kind or welcoming—what she should have done to begin with—but she was overpowered by an odor that filled the enclosed space. “Oh,” she said, and covered her nose with one hand before realizing where the smell came from. “It’s you—I mean, damn it, I’m so sorry,” she said. “I didn’t realize . . .”

  Star’s face hardened again. “No shit, Sherlock.” Her deep-blue eyes stared defiantly back. “Homeless people stink.”

  A lightness bubbled up from the pit of Jess’s stomach that erupted in a hiccup kind of laugh. Something bad had sent Star running to the streets, but it hadn’t taken her sense of humor. She smiled at the girl, abashed. “I’m so sorry, Star. It’s been that kind of week, I guess.”

  Star raised an eyebrow. “The kind where you laugh at sad teenagers?”

  That only made her laugh again. Jesus, it felt like she’d come unglued. “Only the smart-ass kind,” she said, and now Star smiled.

  “She’s here!” came Lucy’s voice.

  Jess turned. Lucy stood at the bottom of the stairs dressed in her usual black gown, her hair pulled into a bun at the base of her neck.

  “Yes, what a su
rprise. Why didn’t you tell me you’d invited Star to Pine Lake?”

  Lucy smiled wide. “I told you she was coming.”

  Jess sighed and wondered briefly if Lucy’s vagueness was purposeful. From the porch behind her, Jess heard Star sniff and shift her weight. She stepped away from the door and said in a low voice, “Shouldn’t we call social services?” Lucy pressed her lips into a thin line. “Look, I’m not trying to be the bad guy here—”

  “Then don’t.” Lucy walked around Jess and spoke to Star. “Come in, girl. You are very welcome here.” She tilted her head to the side, her face clouding with what looked like confusion. “At least I think you are.” She swatted at the air as though aiming for a fly, then gave Star a wide smile. “But that’s something we can figure out later.” Without another word, she disappeared down the hall and into the sitting room.

  Star hadn’t moved from her spot on the porch. It must have taken quite a bit of courage for the girl to come all the way to Pine Lake. Jess couldn’t very well send her away, especially without trying to help her first. It was the right thing to do. Jess gave her a soft smile and a shrug, then opened the door all the way and gestured for her to enter. “Come in. Lucy’s been waiting for you all morning. She said you’d be hungry. I’ve got cucumber and sprout sandwiches—” Jess scrunched up her nose. Star was a teenager who probably hadn’t eaten a proper meal in some time, not a sixtysomething vegetarian. “I can make you anything you like,” she said.

  Star hesitated, indecision clear in the way her eyes darted between the door and her feet. Then Jess heard her take a deep breath. “I’ll eat anything,” she said, and stepped inside.

  CHAPTER SIX

  JESS

  Before joining Lucy in the sitting room, Jess made Star a turkey sandwich and had her eat it at the table in the kitchen while she made tea. Jess could tell Star was nervous from the way her knee jiggled up and down, and she figured it would calm her nerves to have something in her stomach. When Star was done eating, Jess picked up a tray loaded with a white ceramic teapot, three cups, a small bowl of sugar, and a tiny pitcher of cream and led Star to the sitting room, which was down the hall and to the right of the staircase. Lucy liked tea and had asked her to serve it formally whenever she entertained a guest. But halfway through the foyer, Star paused. Her eyes swiveled around the room, taking in the grand staircase and then the oversize brass chandelier with the etched glass shades that hung above her.

  “Uh, wow,” she said, her eyes so wide they seemed to take up half her face.

  Jess laughed. Star’s reaction wasn’t far from her own when she’d first walked inside. “This place is something else, isn’t it?”

  “Fuc—” Star’s face reddened. “I mean, heck yeah. Is Lucy like a queen or something?”

  “Not that I know of, but I’ll tell you what I do think.”

  Star narrowed her eyes as if she thought Jess was going to say something unpleasant. Jess felt a pang. The girl was guarded and suspicious. What kind of life had she lived? She smiled. “I think she’s a really lovely person who seems to care about everyone.”

  Star dropped her gaze to the floor and mumbled, “Oh.”

  They entered the sitting room, where Lucy sat in her favorite wingback chair with the gold thread and smooth wood. Lucy pointed to a matching chair across from her. “Have a seat, Star.” Star perched on the edge of the chair, her fingers stuffed underneath her legs, shoulders tense, as though she might shoot out the door at any moment.

  Jess set the tray on a gleaming walnut coffee table and took a seat on the elegant sofa that stretched between the two chairs. The sofa was long and patterned in a cream fabric that Jess suspected might be silk and trimmed in a dark gleaming wood she’d polished just yesterday morning. She cringed when Star moved in her chair, worried that the girl’s clothes would leave marks on the pristine furniture. But Lucy seemed unaffected by it, so Jess relaxed. If Lucy wasn’t going to worry about it, then the last thing Jess wanted was to make the girl any more uncomfortable than she already was.

  Star sat quietly in her chair, shoulders slumped, and stole glances around the room with the same wide-eyed look she’d had in the foyer. The silence between the three of them stretched long, and just as Jess began to wonder if she should start the conversation, Star piped up. “You look like a witch,” she said to Lucy.

  Lucy’s face lit up, her lips pulling wide. “I’ve been told that before. Not to my face. Most kids don’t have the courage. But behind my back they call me the Witch of Pine Lake.” She laughed, smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt, her fingers bone white against the deep black fabric. “You’re here.”

  “You invited me.” The toes of Star’s boots rested on the floor, and her heels flopped back and forth.

  “I did.”

  “Why?”

  Lucy shrugged, sipped her tea. “I just did.”

  Jess asked the question she’d been wanting to know since she opened the door. “How did you get here?”

  “The 401.”

  “What about your family?” Jess tried to keep her voice gentle, but she knew her questions sounded like an interrogation to Star, who seemed suspicious of adults. Jess glanced at Lucy to see her reaction, but Lucy gave her a placid smile, as though this had all been Jess’s idea to begin with. “Or . . . do you have a caseworker we could call for you?”

  Star’s mouth hung open, and her eyes shifted from Jess to Lucy and back to Jess again. “I didn’t ask to come here, you know.” She pointed at Lucy. “She invited me.”

  Lucy’s attention had drifted back to a crossword puzzle, and the sound of her pencil on the newspaper grated in the quiet that followed Star’s words. The girl stared at Lucy, her face a tight mask that showed little of what she must be feeling. She was tough. Jess pulled at the sleeve of her shirt. Tough in a way that reminded her of herself when she was pregnant and living in a group home with absolutely no idea how she was going to support a baby. Jess couldn’t help but feel a flutter of admiration for Star. She understood more than most what it took for the girl to have survived this far on her own.

  “If you’re calling social services, I’m leaving.” Star scrambled to her feet. “I don’t need this.”

  Lucy looked up from her crossword puzzle. “But at least have tea before you go,” she said, and rose slowly to her feet. “I’m quite tired from our exciting morning. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ll have a rest.”

  Jess felt her mouth drop open. She was as surprised as Star by Lucy’s quick exit.

  Star’s hands curled into tight fists by her sides. “Wait! Please. You sent me that note.” Her bottom lip trembled, and Jess realized she was nervous, maybe even terrified. Why? For allowing herself even the smallest strand of hope that someone cared? For thinking she could start over? Jess knew only too well that there was no reset button when it came to a shitty life. She clasped her hands in her lap and fought an urge to put her arms around the girl, because she had no words of encouragement when it came to shitty lives. Her only example was her own, and that was nothing but a merry-go-round of bitterness and unbearable loss.

  Lucy paused at the bottom of the staircase. “The note.” She drummed her fingers along the railing.

  A soft pink stole across Star’s cheeks. “About a second chance.” Her voice quavered, but she stood with her feet planted firmly apart, back held stiff.

  Lucy tilted her head the way she did when she was working on one of her crossword puzzles. “Chance,” she murmured, and her eyes found Jess. Jess swallowed, trying to ignore the hard knot that had formed in her stomach.

  Star folded her arms, lifted her chin. “You told me to come.”

  Lucy pursed her lips and nodded. “I did. But you’ll have to have patience, dear. Sometimes I can be as blind as everyone else.” She started up the stairs, her back stooped as she climbed. “Show her to a shower, please, Jess. She smells like death.”

  “You doing okay in there?” Jess tapped on the bathroom door for what must ha
ve been the tenth time. She understood the need for a hot shower, especially for a street kid like Star. But after thirty minutes, Jess had a hard time believing there could be hot water left anywhere in Pine Lake. “Star?” she called.

  The pipes in the walls popped.

  “There are towels underneath the vanity and—” The door creaked open, and Star poked her soaking head out. Water dripped down her face and over her shoulders.

  “Do you have scissors?” She tugged at a strand of hair, clean now, but matted into fuzzy knots.

  “Sure, give me a minute.”

  “Here you are, dear,” Lucy said, appearing at the top of the stairs.

  Jess’s eyes widened. “Lucy! You were just resting on your bed. I thought you were asleep.”

  “Yes, well, the girl in the bathroom needs these.” She held out a pair of black-and-silver clippers with a thick rubber cord that trailed the floor.

  Jess stared at the clippers, momentarily lost for words. Lucy had an uncanny ability to anticipate what a person might need or want. She’d done it with Jess on more than one occasion. When it came to Jess’s past, Lucy just seemed to know what to say—or more importantly, what not to say. Jess shook her head and took the clippers.

  “Her name is Star,” Jess said.

  “Whose, dear?”

  Jess eyed Lucy for a long moment, trying to decide how much she was being played with this whole memory thing. Lucy smiled sweetly back.

  “The girl in the bathroom,” Jess said. “The one who smells like death?” Lucy blinked. Jess pursed her lips and continued. “The one you sent a note to and who’s staying for tea? Her name is Star.”