Nothing Hidden Ever Stays

by HR Mason

  “How did my mother escape?”

  “She tricked her parents into believing she would give you away, so they let her out. When Stuart and Elizabeth let their guard down, Anna ran. She was penniless. She ran away with nothing except you. I didn’t even know she was leaving—”

  “Anson, I need your help in here. There’s a vase I can’t reach on my own,” Mrs. Bonaventure called from the kitchen door, interrupting the conversation at a critical moment.

  “What were you going to say, Anson?”

  “Nothing. Forget about it. I’ve said too much already.”

  He turned abruptly and headed back into the house. Aubrey watched him go, wishing he would have said more.

  A feeling of sadness washed over her. If what Anson said was true, her mother cared for her more than she’d ever imagined. Anna had escaped in order to save her.

  Guilt and confusion played tug-of-war inside Aubrey’s heart. Nothing about Anna Ross was anything like she’d believed. Aubrey’s entire life felt like one gigantic lie after another. Not knowing what else to do, she returned to the kitchen.

  “Mr. Lemon just called to cancel your appointment this afternoon. He said he would call back to reschedule. Apparently something came up,” Mrs. Bonaventure explained when Aubrey entered.

  “Thank you. That’s probably for the best,” Aubrey replied listlessly.

  “Are you feeling all right? You don’t look well.”

  “It’s this house. I need to sell it. I have to get out of here.”

  “You can’t run away from your problems, Aubrey. Otherwise, you’ll never stop running. You’re looking for answers. You need to find them.” Mrs. Bonaventure placed her warm hand over Aubrey’s cold one.

  “If you feel that way, why won’t you help me? Your family has worked at Desolate Ridge for years. Surely you know things you aren’t telling me. Why won’t anyone help me?” Tears of desperation brimmed in Aubrey’s eyes.

  “Aubrey, you don’t understand. There are things I… can’t say. I can’t. I’ve kept secrets to protect the people I care about.” Mrs. Bonaventure’s eyes grew wide with fear and desperation.

  “Protect them from what? In case you haven’t noticed, there’s no one here but me. Whoever you were trying to protect, it doesn’t matter anymore,” Aubrey demanded.

  “They said they would kill him. I couldn’t let them know the truth.”

  Mrs. Bonaventure sank into a nearby chair and began to sob.

  “Who are you talking about, Mrs. Bonaventure?”

  “My boy. They said they would kill my boy!”

  “Someone threatened Anson? I’m sure it was a misunderstanding. Surely whoever said it didn’t mean it.”

  “It wasn’t a threat, and I didn’t misunderstand. They meant every word they ever said.”

  “Who?”

  “Your grandparents!” Mrs. Bonaventure screamed the words, her body heaving as if they had been dragged out of her. As soon as she spoke, she clamped her hand over her mouth to prevent any other information from escaping.

  “Stuart and Elizabeth threatened you? They threatened Anson?”

  “I shouldn’t have said anything. I swore I wouldn’t.”

  “Enough secrets! I’ve had enough. You will tell me exactly what you know, and you’ll do it now,” Aubrey commanded, summoning every ounce of authority she possessed.

  The woman wrung her hands, clearly frightened. Aubrey didn’t back down. She glared at Mrs. Bonaventure until the older woman spoke again.

  “I’m sorry, Aubrey. I should have been stronger. When she told me, I should have helped her instead of being a coward, but I was afraid for my son.”

  “Who should you have helped?”

  “Your mother came to me before she ran away. She told me that… that Anson was your… your father, and instead of helping the poor child, I panicked. Your grandparents said if they found out who your father was, they would kill him. I knew they weren’t just words. They would have done it. I should have helped Anna. If I had, maybe things would have been different… for her and for you,” Mrs. Bonaventure explained.

  “Anson is my father? He knew, and he let us leave?”

  “He didn’t know,” she replied quickly.

  “How is that possible?”

  Anger bubbled up inside of Aubrey. She had always believed Anna was the selfish one, but apparently it was Anson.

  “I swear to you that my son didn’t know. He suspected, of course, but Anna put an end to that. The two of them were in love. He would have gone with her, or talked her into staying. And your grandparents would have killed him if they knew,” she rambled.

  “My mother didn’t tell him? How could he not have known if they were in love like you say?”

  “Anson was away at college when Anna found out she was pregnant. She didn’t tell him. She hid it from everyone for as long as she could. When he came home, she was nearly ready to give birth. Her parents told her they would kill the father of her child once they figured out who he was. Anna knew they would do it. Anson believed it was him, but Anna told him she’d been with someone else. Turns out, she only said that to protect him. She kept the secret for two years, up until she left with you. That day, she told me Anson was your father. She asked for my help. I failed her. And you,” she finished between sobs.

  “So Anson really doesn’t know he’s my… father?” The word sounded foreign on her tongue.

  Aubrey should have been surprised by the news, yet she wasn’t. She had felt an undeniable connection to Anson Bonaventure, and now she understood why. It was as if Mrs. Bonaventure simply confirmed something she already knew.

  “Anson still believes Anna betrayed him with someone else. He loved her so much. I don’t think he ever got over it. He’ll hate me once he discovers I knew the truth. I’m sure you hate me. I hate myself. I won’t even ask for your forgiveness, because I don’t deserve it.”

  “You’re right. You don’t.”

  Aubrey’s hands began to shake, and tears coursed down her face. She despised the emotions that were swimming to the surface, yet she couldn’t push them down or compartmentalize them no matter how hard she tried.

  “I can’t do this right now. I don’t even know what to say to you.”

  Aubrey paced back and forth across the kitchen floor.

  “I’m sorry—”

  “I don’t want to hear your meager apologies, you horrible, selfish woman. But you will tell Anson the truth, and you will tell him today. If you don’t, I will, and I will not be kind.”

  Without another word, Aubrey stalked out of the kitchen and ran up the winding staircase toward her bedroom. Slamming the door behind her, she flung herself onto the large four-poster bed and sobbed.

  She wasn’t a crier. She never had been. She was tough, and she was hard. That’s how she survived. But in that moment, she was nothing more than the abandoned little girl who was left at a hospital alone without a soul in the world to care.

  Every emotion she’d ever suppressed mixed together, combining into a melting pot of quicksand that swallowed her up inside. She was stuck in the quagmire, and she felt herself sinking. She cried for all of the times she hadn’t. She cried for the countless years she’d spent being passed around from one family to the next, each one worse than the last, none of them ever wanting her.

  She cried for the abuse she’d endured, for the isolation she’d worn until it wrapped around her like her own skin. She cried for the injustice of it all, because she wasn’t an orphan. She never had been. She had a father and grandparents who had allowed horrible things to happen to her.

  It wasn’t fair.

  When she’d finally spent all of her tears, she lay there, exhausted. Weary to the bone, her traumatized body finally gave in to sleep. She dreamed of her mother. She saw her running away from Desolate Ridge, young, afraid, clutching Aubrey’s small body close to her own.

  She heard her mother whisper words of love, of comfort. She saw Anna’s sad smile as she trie
d to chase away the fear for both of them. She felt Anna’s arms, filled with warmth and hope, wrapping around her. In the dream, Aubrey hugged her mother just as tightly.

  When she woke, she felt lighter, as if a heavy weight were lifted from her shoulders. She didn’t understand, but a tiny fragment of the anger she’d carried for so long had vanished.

  23

  By the time Aubrey finally made her way downstairs, the sky had grown dark. She’d spent the remainder of the day in her room, too angry and confused to face the Bonaventures. She didn’t trust herself not to hurl vicious words at Mrs. Bonaventure, and she had no idea what to say to Anson. The caretakers were her grandparents, and Anson was her father. The concept was mind-boggling.

  She didn’t know how to handle the news, so she pushed it into the far corners of her mind where all the painful things lived and went into the kitchen to fix a snack. Spectre rubbed against her legs and purred. Aubrey stooped down to pet her.

  “Why did I ever come to this place, Spectre? Nothing good has happened since I walked through that door,” she said quietly.

  Spectre meowed loudly and tilted her head.

  “Well, nothing good besides meeting you, I mean,” she corrected herself.

  Aubrey’s telephone buzzed on the counter beside her, and the jarring sound caused her to nearly jump out of her skin. She glanced at the display and saw it was Hank.

  “Hello,” she answered tentatively.

  “Hey, Aubrey. I was just calling to check in on you. How are you doing?”

  His calm, soothing voice reached through the phone line, wrapping itself around her like an old friend.

  “I’m fine.” She paused. “Actually, that’s a lie. I’m awful. I’ve had a terrible day.”

  Aubrey didn’t know what it was about the man that forced her to open up, but she couldn’t help herself.

  “I’m sorry. How can I help?”

  “You can’t. Don’t worry about me.”

  “I do, though. The thing is, I’ve worried about you since the first night I met you. And don’t ask me why, because I don’t know.”

  “You have?”

  No one had ever worried about her before. Knowing Hank cared enough to worry made her feel things she’d never experienced.

  “I spend far too much time worrying about you, Aubrey. I probably shouldn’t admit that, but there you have it. I think the Ross-Metzger connection must be programmed into my genetics or something.”

  Aubrey didn’t know how to respond, which led to an awkward silence that neither person knew how to fill. After a few seconds, Hank spoke again.

  “I also called because I’ve done a bit of investigating to see if I could find more information about your family.”

  “And you found something?” Aubrey couldn’t believe Hank had taken the time to dig up material for her.

  “I talked to Clara Millburn at the library.”

  “I’ve been meaning to make an appointment with her, but I haven’t yet. What did she have to say?”

  “Clara has tons of records, which you’re going to want to go through yourself. I barely had time to scratch the surface, but there was one thing that caught my attention,” Hank began.

  “What was it?”

  “Do you drink coffee?”

  “What?”

  “Coffee. You know, black stuff, full of caffeine. Do you drink it?”

  “Yes, I love coffee. Why?”

  “Do you have any?”

  “I always have coffee.”

  “Do you think you could brew a pot? Maybe I could come over, and we could talk about it in person?” His voice sounded hopeful.

  “You mean now?”

  “Yeah, I mean now.”

  “I guess so. But don’t expect much from me, because I’m a mess. I slept all afternoon. Today’s been a hard one.”

  “I have no expectations, and I promise not to stay too long, but I think I should deliver this message in person.”

  “All right. I’ll put on the coffee and see you soon.”

  Aubrey hung up the phone and started the coffeepot. She couldn’t believe she’d agreed to let Hank come over. The mere idea of spending too much time with him made her insides twist into knots. She was doing the very thing she’d warned herself not to do—getting close to Hank Metzger. She needed to call him back and tell him she’d changed her mind.

  Grabbing her phone, she was prepared to dial Hank’s number when she detected movement in the hallway. Instead, she dropped her phone into her pocket and walked toward the front door. When she reached the winding staircase, she gasped.

  Marie Ross was standing on the second step from the bottom, wearing the same white nightgown she’d worn every other time she’d shown herself to Aubrey.

  “Marie?”

  Aubrey knew it was crazy to speak to a ghost, but she didn’t care anymore.

  “Nothing hidden ever stays,” Marie said quietly.

  “You’ve said that to me before. What does it mean?”

  Aubrey didn’t know whether or not the apparition would answer.

  “It all ends with you.”

  “I don’t understand. Please help me, Marie.”

  “The circle is complete. You must break the curse.”

  “I don’t know how to break a curse. I don’t even know if I believe in curses,” Aubrey replied.

  “Your destiny is entwined with his.”

  “Tell me what you mean.”

  “It all ends with you.”

  Before Aubrey could say anything else, Marie was gone. Like a vapor blown away by the wind, it was as if she’d never been there at all. Aubrey wondered if she’d imagined the encounter. She had no way of knowing.

  There was a knock at the front door, and Aubrey knew it was Hank. She’d been too distracted to tell him not to come, so she would have to deal with the ramifications.

  Aubrey opened the large door and gestured for Hank to enter. “Come in.”

  “Are you okay? You look pale.”

  “Like I’ve seen a ghost, perhaps?” Aubrey smirked at the irony of the situation.

  “Have you?”

  “More times than I care to admit. The coffee is ready.”

  She motioned for Hank to follow her into the kitchen, where she started a fire in the large fireplace and poured them both a steaming mug of the dark liquid. They took their seats in the cozy breakfast nook next to the hearth. Hank took a long sip and sighed with appreciation.

  “This is delicious. Thank you for letting me invite myself over.”

  “Well, I changed my mind and was about to tell you not to come, but I was… distracted.”

  “By the ghost?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes. And it scares me that you don’t find that strange.”

  “I’ve told you before, this place is haunted.”

  “I can’t tell which of us is crazier, Hank.”

  He chuckled. “Maybe both of us.”

  “Well, you can thank the ghost for being here, because I was going to tell you to stay home.”

  “I’m glad the ghost distracted you, because I wanted to come over. By the way, I’ve noticed that you do that often.”

  “Do what?”

  “Change your mind. You did it the last time I tried to spend time with you too.”

  “That’s what I do. I make decisions and then second-guess them immediately. I hate commitments.”

  “It’s not a marriage proposal, Aubrey. It’s just coffee and a chat,” Hank teased.

  “It might as well be,” she mumbled. “Anyway, you said you had some information?”

  “I do. I was looking through old newspaper articles and town records, and I came across something that caught my attention.”

  “Go ahead. I’m anxious to hear it.”

  “Desolate Ridge was built in 1819. Like Gramps told you the other night, Henry Metzger was in love with Marie, Marshall Ross’s bride. What I didn’t know was that Henry Metzger was the builder in charge of the constructio
n of this place. Not only was he in love with Marie, he also built the house she would eventually live in with her husband,” Hank explained.

  “Wow. Poor Henry. That must have been really difficult for him.”

  “I can’t imagine. But there’s more.”

  “What else?”

  “The money Marshall Ross used to build this house came to him by suspicious means.”

  Aubrey frowned. “How so?”

  “Well, the year before the house was built, Marshall’s parents, Cullen and Ione, died unexpectedly. They were burned to death in their beds while they slept. It was eventually ruled as an accident, but it reeks of foul play. Their will stipulated their fortune would be split equally between Marshall and his sister, Eleanor. Not even six months later, Eleanor disappeared, and she was never seen or heard from again. Marshall inherited everything,” Hank detailed.

  “I’m no detective, but it sounds to me like those accidents might not have been accidents at all.”

  “Yeah, it’s more than a little suspicious. Marshall might have killed his parents and his sister so he could have all of the money,” Hank theorized.

  “His wife also disappeared without a trace.”

  “You think he killed Marie?”

  Aubrey couldn’t decide if she should share what she’d seen. Something told her she could trust Hank, but she needed more time to decide. It wasn’t every day that a girl revealed she talked to ghosts and had experienced another person’s death.

  “I don’t know. It just seems strange that Marie left, that’s all.”

  “I agree. I think we need to keep digging.”

  Aubrey’s eyes widened. “We? You still want to help me?”

  “If you want me to.”

  “Part of me wants to say yes, but there’s another part that doesn’t know how to accept help.”

  “Then you should tell that part to mind its own business.”

  Hank grinned, and Aubrey laughed out loud.

  “Your laugh is nice. You need to do it more.”

  “Maybe. I usually don’t have a reason to.”

  “I’d like to change that.”

  Hank’s eyes locked on hers, and she couldn’t look away. There was an undercurrent of familiarity between them that she couldn’t deny. Marie had said, “Your destiny is entwined with his.” Was she referring to Hank? Or maybe she meant Aubrey’s father, Anson?