Nothing Hidden Ever Stays

by HR Mason

  “That’s true,” Hank agreed with a serious look on his face.

  “But don’t worry. You probably won’t be sleeping in them.”

  Aubrey grinned, and the couple climbed out of the car. She grabbed Hank’s hand and led him inside the house.

  29

  “I’ll see you after work. Good luck today,” Hank said as he kissed Aubrey quickly.

  “Thanks. I’m a little nervous. I’m not sure what Mr. Lemon wants to talk to me about. The last time he was here, he ran off because I asked too many questions.”

  “Do you want me to stay? I can be a little late for work if I need to be.”

  “Nope. I’ll handle this on my own. Thanks, though. I’ll see you later?”

  “I’ll come over when I’m finished. It might be late,” he hedged.

  “Better late than never.”

  She kissed him again as he headed out the door. Once he was gone, she went into the kitchen to fix herself another cup of coffee. She sighed, content for the first time in her life. Things were finally looking up. Nothing strange had happened to her in several weeks, and Aubrey wondered if it had something to do with the fact that Hank was always around. He made everything better. He chased the darkness away.

  Still, she couldn’t help but prepare for whatever trouble was waiting around the corner. As much as she wanted to think otherwise, she knew it was coming.

  The day before, Mr. Lemon called to inform Aubrey that they needed to discuss her financial situation, and she had a feeling the proverbial “other shoe” was about to drop. She knew little about money matters, other than the fact that she’d never had any. If she really wanted the meeting to end quickly, she could just start asking questions about the Ross family. That had scared the attorney away the last time.

  Aubrey had just finished her last sip of coffee when his car pulled into the driveway. She went to the front door and opened it, surprised to see Mr. Lemon wasn’t alone. Mr. Wayfair was with him.

  “Mr. Wayfair, I had no idea you were coming,” Aubrey said.

  “Yes, well, here I am. You’re looking well. You seem to have settled in nicely,” Mr. Wayfair replied with a tip of his bowler hat.

  “It’s been an interesting experience.”

  Aubrey wasn’t sure how to describe her time at Desolate Ridge. It had mostly been confusing and frightening, but it hadn’t been completely awful. After all, the house had led her to Hank.

  “We have much to talk about. May we come in?” Mr. Lemon interjected.

  “Of course. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you standing on the front porch. Come inside, please.”

  Aubrey led them into the parlor, and they all took a seat. Hank had started a fire before he left, so the room was warm and cozy.

  “So, what did you want to talk to me about, Mr. Lemon? I have a lot of questions the two of you might be able to answer, if you have time,” Aubrey began with a smile.

  “First things first, we need to discuss your financial situation, Ms. Ross,” Mr. Lemon said with a slight frown.

  “You keep saying that. Is there something wrong with my financial situation? Am I poor again?”

  Aubrey wasn’t sure why she enjoyed making the grumpy old lawyer uncomfortable, but she did.

  “You’re not poor, Ms. Ross. Quite the opposite—you have more money than you’ll ever need. But you should look at the financial records to see if there are any changes you’d like to make. Desolate Ridge has been run the same way for years, but it’s yours now, so you should make those choices.”

  “Who usually makes the financial decisions, Mr. Lemon?”

  “Your grandparents used to. Then your grandfather went into the hospital, and your grandmother became… unstable. When that happened, as their attorney, I took over. I’ve been in charge of the financials. But that job really belongs to you, Ms. Ross,” Mr. Lemon explained.

  “There’s another matter to discuss as well, Aubrey.” Mr. Wayfair leaned forward in his chair. “There’s a nasty rumor floating around that you intend to sell the house.”

  “Where did you hear that?”

  “That is of no consequence. The question remains: do you intend to sell Desolate Ridge?” Mr. Wayfair raised his bushy eyebrows and gave her an inquisitive look.

  “I don’t have an answer for you. When I first arrived, I had every intention of selling the house, but now I don’t know. There are things I need to figure out, questions I still need answered.”

  “What kind of questions?” Mr. Wayfair asked.

  “Questions about the Rosses, Mr. Wayfair. Questions about why the women in my family all died long before they should have, questions about why there seems to be an undeniable thread of mental illness running through my veins, and questions about how all of this affects my future,” Aubrey replied.

  “Some things are better left in the past, Ms. Ross,” Mr. Lemon admonished.

  “I disagree. I say this house has far too many secrets that have remained buried for years. And I intend to be the one who finally digs them up.”

  “You may not like what you find,” Mr. Lemon warned.

  “That doesn’t matter anymore.” Aubrey’s eyes bored into the attorney, who seemed to want the secrets to remain hidden.

  “I have a question for you, Mr. Lemon,” Aubrey began. “If you and Mr. Wayfair had never tracked me down, what would have happened to Desolate Ridge and the Ross fortune?”

  “It would have gone to your next of kin,” Mr. Lemon answered.

  “Like my child? But since I don’t have one, then what?”

  “Since you have no children, it would have gone to your next closest blood relative.”

  “Blood relative?” Aubrey asked.

  “Yes, like your father,” Mr. Lemon replied.

  “But Anna never told anyone who Aubrey’s father was, Mr. Lemon,” Mr. Wayfair interjected.

  “No, she didn’t. However, Stuart Ross added an addendum to his will before he died. It stated that if no blood relatives could be located, everything would be given to the person he delegated,” Mr. Lemon revealed.

  “Who was that person?” Aubrey asked.

  “I’m not able to tell you, confidentiality and all. It doesn’t matter, though, because we’ve found you. You’re the legal heir. Everything belongs to you,” Mr. Lemon stated.

  “That’s sure to make this mystery person a little unhappy, whoever it might be. After all, because of me, the beneficiary Stuart Ross delegated will be missing out on billions,” Aubrey theorized.

  “Indeed,” Mr. Wayfair agreed with a slight nod.

  “Well, Ms. Ross, it seems you have some things to figure out, namely whether or not you intend to sell Desolate Ridge, and how you’d like to handle your financials,” Mr. Lemon summed up.

  “Yes, I suppose you’re right. For now, will you continue handling the money matters for me, Mr. Lemon? I honestly have no clue what I’m doing, and you appear to. If you’re up to it, I’d like you to continue,” Aubrey offered. “I do have one idea I would like to tell you about, though.”

  “It would be my pleasure to help you, Ms. Ross. We will talk very soon, and I promise to do my best for you.”

  With that, the two men stood. Aubrey rose from her seat, shook their hands, and led them to the door.

  “I don’t know what you’re looking for, Ms. Ross, but I hope you find it. Like I told you in Seattle, I’m rooting for you,” Mr. Wayfair said with a smile.

  “Thank you. I won’t stop until I have the answers. I promise you that.”

  The men left, and Aubrey locked the front door behind them. As she turned to go into the kitchen, she caught sight of Marie standing on the staircase. Knowing the ghost would speak to her, Aubrey waited.

  “It all ends with you. Nothing hidden ever stays,” Marie said as tears coursed down her cheeks.

  “I know, Marie. I swear I’ll uncover all the secrets of Desolate Ridge. I won’t give up until I do.”

  30

  Aubrey was sitting
in the parlor reading a book when she heard a soft knock on the front door. She debated on whether or not to answer. It wasn’t Hank; he would simply use his key to come inside. She’d spoken to Rebecca at lunchtime, and her friend mentioned a book club she was attending that night. They were the only two people Aubrey was interested in seeing, so she decided to ignore the intrusion.

  Rather than leave, the person persisted, the knocking gaining in intensity.

  Sighing heavily, Aubrey rose from her chair and went to the door. Swinging it open in irritation, she was surprised to see Anson standing on her doorstep.

  It had been several weeks since Mrs. Bonaventure revealed that Anson was her father, and all parties involved had strategically avoided one another ever since. Clearly the evasion had ended.

  “I’m sorry to show up unexpectedly,” Anson said, refusing to meet her eyes directly. “Can we talk?”

  “Come in,” she offered, not knowing what else to say.

  Nodding slightly, Anson stepped inside and, without a word, followed her to the parlor. Aubrey’s stomach clenched with dread and anxiety. She’d known the conversation would have to happen eventually, but she wasn’t ready for it. Of course, she’d probably never be ready.

  “Have a seat.” Aubrey gestured toward the couch, and Anson sat obediently. Uneasy, she perched in the chair across from him, wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans and hoping he wouldn’t notice.

  She finally allowed herself to look at him, the man who was her father. She had refused to think about it, avoided acknowledging it, knowing the moment she finally did would be one of the hardest of her life. It seemed the time had come.

  Aubrey examined Anson’s face, searching for any resemblances between them. She watched the way he sat, alternating between nervously clenching his fists in his lap and wiping his sweaty palms on his pants. She glanced down and noted that her posture mirrored his exactly. She let her eyes linger on the shape of his mouth, the slope of his shoulders, realizing they were the same as hers.

  Anson Bonaventure was her father. She couldn’t deny it, and she couldn’t change it. There was nothing to do but face it.

  “I rehearsed a speech on the way here, going over and over in my mind what I was going to say to you. Now that you’re in front of me, everything is a complete blank.” Anson cleared his throat and shrugged.

  She watched him, nervously fidgeting on the couch, picking and chewing the skin around his fingernails. Aubrey did the same thing when she was nervous, and the sight of her father, a virtual stranger, mimicking her habits was too much for her to wrap her brain around.

  A flash of righteous indignation punched her in the gut. Aubrey didn’t know where the sudden surge of anger came from, but it struck fast and hard. It caught her completely off guard, surprising her with its unexpected intensity. It wasn’t fair.

  The fact that Anson Bonaventure could come into her home, sit on her furniture, and blatantly portray Aubrey’s own subconscious habits was too much. She didn’t even know the man. Why was she able to see every resemblance with excruciating clarity?

  If his story was true, Anson was just as much a victim of circumstance as she was. Perhaps her outrage was misdirected. But Aubrey was bitter, and Anson was there, within arm’s reach. Maybe it wasn’t right, but at that moment, she flung her animosity at him, finally shooting her arrows of resentment at a flesh and blood target.

  “I don’t know what to say either, Anson, so I hope you don’t expect me to.” Aubrey allowed her frigid eyes to meet his. “Why are you here? I’m not sure what you want from me, but I don’t owe you anything.”

  “Of course you don’t. I wasn’t trying to insinuate that you owed me something. I just figured that maybe we should talk.”

  “Is that so? How entirely appropriate that you get to call the shots. That’s been the story of my life.”

  “I didn’t come here to upset you. I just want to talk.”

  Anson fidgeted nervously on the couch, clearing his throat several times and glancing helplessly around the room.

  “Well, you’re here. So talk,” Aubrey demanded coldly.

  “I know you’re angry with me, and you have every right to be.”

  “Don’t tell me what my rights are.”

  “I’m sorry. Aubrey, I swear I didn’t know you were my daughter, but I blame myself anyway. I should have known. I should have figured it out sooner. I should have tried to find you.”

  Anson’s voice quivered and tears filled his eyes.

  “I loved Anna so much. If I had known you were mine—”

  His voice broke, and Aubrey felt a sudden rush of compassion. Her bubbling anger, so prevalent only a few moments ago, was replaced with a tug of sympathy. The pain in Anson’s voice was palpable. It wrapped around her heart and squeezed until it brought tears to her eyes. If she could see past her own pain, it was clear that her father had suffered nearly as much as she had.

  “Look, Anson, I know you didn’t make the choice to abandon me. That option was taken away from you.”

  She’d imagined the words would be excruciating to say, but they weren’t. They fell easily from her lips. Absolving her father of his guilt was shockingly effortless. Aubrey had spent her whole life dreaming about the day when she finally found out who her father was. She’d imagined ways to exact revenge on the man who had allowed her to endure life as an orphan. But when he was there, right in front of her, all the horrible things she wanted to say didn’t ring true.

  The fact of the matter was that Anson hadn’t abandoned her. He hadn’t even been given the opportunity to do so. Her father had been denied all rights and decisions regarding her existence. They were both robbed of any relationship they might have had. It had been snatched from their grasp by a woman too afraid to do the right thing. If anyone was to blame, it was Mrs. Bonaventure, Anson’s mother.

  “I didn’t come here to ask your forgiveness, Aubrey. As long as I live, I won’t ask that of you. It’s too much. I can’t even forgive myself,” Anson explained.

  “There’s nothing to forgive you for.”

  “Aubrey—”

  “No, Anson. Just listen to me. You see, as much as I want to blame you, the truth of the matter is you didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t have the chance to do the right thing.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “But looking at you now, it’s plain to see that you would have.” Aubrey wiped away the tears that streamed from her eyes as they rolled down her cheeks.

  “I would have been a good father. I swear to you. Everything would have been different if I had only known. I would have taken you and Anna away from this place. We would have figured it all out together. I would have given anything to be your father, to have a piece of Anna with me.”

  Anson buried his face in his hands and sobbed, his body shaking with every labored breath.

  Aubrey didn’t know what to do. She didn’t understand the feelings tugging at her heart, cracking it open inside. She didn’t know how to respond to another person’s brokenness; she was barely able to contain her own. But she had to do something.

  Timidly, she stood, walked across the room, and sat on the sofa next to him.

  “Listen to me, Anson. I don’t blame you. None of this was your fault.”

  She hoped her meager words could assuage his grief, because she had nothing else to offer. Perhaps in time she would, but the wounds were still too fresh.

  “Thank you, Aubrey. I don’t deserve it, but thank you.”

  “Thank you for coming to talk to me. I know it couldn’t have been easy.”

  “I’ve wanted to talk to you since I found out, but every time I tried, I convinced myself it wasn’t the right time. I just didn’t know what to say to you,” Anson admitted.

  “I understand.”

  “I have no way to make up for everything you went through.”

  “I’m not asking you to.”

  “Aubrey, when I think of what you’ve had to endure, it makes me sick.
I can’t make amends for any of that.”

  “I don’t know what the answer is, and I don’t know how this works. But if I’ve learned anything, it’s that you can’t change the past.”

  “I would give anything to be able to change it.”

  “All we can do is start from now,” Aubrey offered.

  “Is that what you want? To start over?”

  The hope in her father’s voice nearly broke Aubrey’s heart. If she’d been uncertain about a possible relationship with him, his expectant optimism changed her mind.

  “I think I’d like that.”

  “I want that more than anything, Aubrey.”

  “I need to warn you that I’m brand-new at this whole relationship thing. I’m just learning what it means to have other people in my life. Don’t take it personally if I don’t always react how you expect.”

  Aubrey was open to exploring some type of contact with her father, but she needed him to understand that it would take her some time. If he was willing to be patient with her, they might be able to make it work.

  “I promise not to push you, Aubrey. I’ll be grateful for anything, because that’s more than I ever imagined I’d get.”

  She smiled and tentatively placed her hand on his arm. He grabbed it, gripping it tightly in his own.

  Anson cleared his throat. “I have something I want to give you.”

  He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small box. Aubrey noticed his hands were trembling as he opened it.

  “I bought this for Anna a very long time ago. I wanted to marry her. I wanted that more than anything. I rehearsed my speech a thousand times, but the moment was never right. Then she left, and I never got the chance. I’d like you to have it.”

  He pulled a small ring from the box and dropped it into her open palm. When Aubrey looked at the jewelry, her heart constricted inside her chest. It was a modest diamond solitaire set in white gold. She guessed it wasn’t expensive, but she knew without a doubt it had been purchased for her mother with all the love in the world. The piece of jewelry was miniscule in comparison to the gigantic sapphire ring on her other hand, but the sentiment behind the two couldn’t have been more different.