Nothing Hidden Ever Stays

by HR Mason

  “Marie….”

  “We are all finally free because of you.”

  When Aubrey looked at Marie again, there was someone standing beside her, a handsome man, clasping Marie’s hand tightly inside his own. It was Henry Metzger, and he looked exactly like Hank.

  Aubrey felt herself fading in and out of the blackness. She tried to focus on Marie, but the effort was becoming increasingly difficult. She coughed as her breathing grew shallow.

  The crackling of the flames grew louder, and Aubrey knew the fire would consume everything, including her.

  The shattering of glass in the distance caused her eyes to open once again.

  “Aubrey? Aubrey, I’m here. Where are you?” Hank screamed loudly, his voice ripping through the roar of the flames.

  “Your destiny is entwined with his,” Marie said with a smile as she and Henry vanished into the smoke.

  Epilogue — 2021

  Rebecca took a deep breath as she stood in front of the house. Everything looked exactly as it had before the fire. Desolate Ridge, now known as the Aubrey Ross Home for Girls, had been restored to its former glory. The blaze that had claimed the lives of both Hank and Aubrey had also destroyed most of the house.

  It had taken several months to rebuild and properly staff, but in the end, the plans had all come to fruition. No expense had been spared, and the girls who would call it home had been painstakingly selected. The spots had been given to the children who needed them most.

  “I’m so glad you could finally come, Rebecca,” Mr. Lemon greeted her at the front door.

  “Yes, well, I suppose it was time,” she replied as she sighed deeply.

  “I understand this is difficult for you.”

  “It’s harder than I ever imagined.”

  “Hank was a good man.”

  “He was the best man.”

  “Your brother was a true hero, running into the fire, giving his life to try to save Aubrey’s. He must have loved her very much.”

  “I think he loved her from the moment he laid eyes on her.”

  “I’m so sorry for what you’ve been through.”

  “In the end, I lost them both,” Rebecca said as her eyes filled with fresh tears.

  “You must miss your brother very much.” Mr. Lemon touched her arm gently.

  “I miss him every day. Aubrey too.”

  “That girl was like no one else I’ve ever met,” Mr. Lemon agreed.

  “I only knew her for a short time, but I loved her.”

  “Come inside and take a look around. It all belongs to you, after all.” Mr. Lemon gestured for her to follow him.

  Rebecca stepped through the front door and glanced around. The first thing she noticed was the painting she had commissioned, positioned prominently in the front of the entryway. The artist had expertly captured Aubrey’s beauty in the portrait, from her clear blue eyes to her lovely chestnut curls. She wasn’t smiling; that wouldn’t have been true to character. But the expression on Aubrey’s face exuded a sense of serenity and peace that made Rebecca smile.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Mr. Lemon said quietly.

  “It’s perfect. It looks as if she might walk right out of the painting at any moment.”

  “Indeed,” Mr. Lemon agreed with a decisive nod.

  Rebecca wandered through the foyer, running her fingertip across the marble end table that held a variety of costly trinkets and decorations. The crystal chandelier glistened, creating prisms on the ceiling as the afternoon sunlight danced through the elliptical fanlight windows on the front door.

  Seeing the house completed was surreal, making it difficult to pretend nothing had happened. Ever since the night of the fire, Rebecca had tried to put the ordeal out of her mind. For months she’d been unable to face the fact that Hank and Aubrey were really gone. It all felt like a bad dream, and she’d been hoping to wake up.

  The shock of their deaths had been followed closely by another surprise—Aubrey had created a will, leaving everything to Rebecca and Hank before she died. Since Hank had also perished in the fire, everything belonged to Rebecca.

  “There are some papers I need you to sign, if you’ll follow me into the office, Rebecca,” Mr. Lemon said.

  Obediently she followed the attorney down the hall and into his office, the room that had once been the parlor. Mr. Lemon was the overseer of the girls’ home, but Rebecca owned everything and controlled all the finances.

  “Have a seat,” Mr. Lemon said as they entered the room.

  He sat in the swiveling chair behind the large mahogany desk, and Rebecca settled into the plush armchair in front of it. Looking around the room, she was surprised to find Mr. Lemon’s office walls were lined with paintings.

  “Those portraits look very old.”

  “They are indeed.”

  “Who are they?”

  “It’s every generation of the Ross family who lived in Desolate Ridge.”

  Rebecca’s eyes widened. “You mean the paintings survived the fire?”

  “Amazingly, yes.”

  “But how is that possible? I thought the damage was extensive.”

  “Well, the fire didn’t reach all the way to the attic.”

  “The paintings were in the attic? I remember Aubrey talking about them.”

  “She found them there and brought them downstairs at one time, but thankfully she returned them to the attic. Otherwise they would have been lost forever.”

  Rebecca let her eyes linger on the faces of the people in the paintings. She saw traces of Aubrey in every single generation, but their faces showed none of the strength her friend had possessed.

  “It would have been horrible if the paintings had burned. There’s a lot of history there.”

  “Yes, quite a lot of history,” Mr. Lemon agreed.

  Rebecca fidgeted in the chair, trying to suppress her emotions as they rose to the surface. Suddenly she felt something against her leg. Jumping slightly, she looked down to find an inky black cat purring and rubbing against her.

  “You have a cat?” she asked.

  “That’s Spectre. She’s lived here forever.”

  “The same cat that lived here before the fire?”

  “Yes. Don’t ask me how she survived, because I don’t know.”

  “That’s very strange.”

  “I suppose so. I just need you to sign these papers, Rebecca. It’s a detailed list of all expenditures for the renovations and the opening of the girls’ home.”

  Mr. Lemon slid the file across the desk and handed Rebecca a pen. She glanced at the figures, the numbers swimming before her eyes, blurring together on the page.

  “Do you need these today? May I take them with me so I can read them over in more detail?”

  “You may do as you wish, Rebecca. You’re the boss, after all,” Mr. Lemon said with a nod.

  “Yes, I suppose I am, aren’t I?”

  The idea that she had been left an enormous fortune still hadn’t quite sunk in. Rebecca had more money than she could have ever dreamed, but she would give every single cent away to have Hank and Aubrey back.

  She rose from the chair, slipped the papers into her purse, and sighed. She was anxious to leave but felt compelled to stay, suddenly realizing she felt close to Aubrey in the house.

  “Would you like to take a look around since you’re here, Rebecca?”

  “Yes, I think I would like that.”

  “The girls are all around here somewhere. It’s the weekend, you know, so they have free time right now. You’ll either find them in their rooms or out on the grounds exploring,” Mr. Lemon explained.

  “How many are there?”

  “We have six who live here, ranging in age from five to twelve.”

  “And all the girls are orphans?”

  “Yes.”

  “That’s so sad.” Rebecca’s heart constricted inside her chest.

  “It is unfortunate, but we’re helping to rewrite their stories.”

 
“I suppose we are.”

  “Aubrey made it crystal clear that she wanted a place where these girls could belong, a home for the ones who had no homes. She and I discussed it in detail weeks before her unfortunate death, and I prompted her to put it in writing. This was her vision for Desolate Ridge all along. I’m just sorry she isn’t here to see it. It was very important to her.”

  “That’s because these girls are just like her,” Rebecca said softly.

  Mr. Lemon excused himself, instructing Rebecca to make herself at home. He wanted her to feel like she was an integral part of what they had built, since it belonged to her.

  Rebecca wandered back toward the entryway, meandering up the winding staircase toward the second-story balcony. The railing felt smooth and warm beneath her hand.

  Rebecca peered over the edge of the railing, marveling at how exquisite the home was. Happy sunlight flickered in through the clerestory windows, giving the place a peaceful glow. Glancing down the hallway, she peeked into the bedrooms, each one decorated carefully and beautifully. The cheery décor had clearly been chosen with young girls in mind. Each room was fit for a princess.

  Most were empty, but she found one young girl in the largest room. The child was lying across the massive four-poster bed reading a book.

  The little girl glanced away from the page when she noticed Rebecca standing there. “Hello,” she said with a smile.

  “Hello. I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

  “It’s okay. Do you want to come in and look at my books?”

  “Sure,” Rebecca answered with a smile.

  The little girl jumped off the bed, ran across the room, and grabbed Rebecca’s hand in her small one. The child’s red curls bounced delightfully as she led Rebecca to a large bookshelf and gestured proudly.

  “These are all mine. Can you believe it?”

  “That is quite a collection.”

  “When I came here, I had never seen so many books in one place before. Then Mr. Lemon told me they all belonged to me. It was the happiest day of my life,” the little girl gushed.

  “I’ve always loved books too. I can understand why you were excited,” Rebecca agreed.

  “What’s your name?” The child turned toward Rebecca and grinned warmly.

  “My name is Rebecca. What’s yours?”

  “My name is Aubrey.”

  “Aubrey?”

  “Yeah, I know it’s a strange name.”

  “No, it’s a beautiful name.”

  “I’ve never known anyone else with my name, and then I came to live in a house named after someone else called Aubrey. Weird, huh?”

  “A little.”

  Rebecca’s heart began to beat faster. The coincidence was more than a little odd.

  “How old are you, Aubrey?”

  “I just turned ten. My birthday is in October.”

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you.”

  “I like it here. It’s the nicest place I’ve ever lived. I hope I get to stay.”

  “I’m sure you’ll get to stay, Aubrey,” Rebecca assured the child. “You shouldn’t worry about that.”

  “Do you know someone here?”

  “Well, I guess I sort of own this house. It was left to me by someone I cared for very much. Another Aubrey, as a matter of fact.”

  “The Aubrey the house is named after?”

  “Yes, that’s the one. She’s the lady in the painting downstairs.”

  “Oh, yeah, I’ve seen her. She’s nice.”

  Rebecca’s heart nearly stopped at the child’s words.

  “You mean you’ve seen her in the painting?”

  “Yeah, in the painting and other places.” The child shrugged.

  “What other places have you seen her?”

  “I see her all the time. She’s my friend. Do you want me to show you my favorite book?”

  “Your book? O-of course… I would love to see your book.”

  The wheels were spinning out of control in Rebecca’s brain. What on earth was the little girl talking about?

  Wiping her sweaty palms on her pants, Rebecca followed Aubrey across the room. The child grabbed a book from her bedside table, sat on the edge of the bed, and gestured for Rebecca to do the same.

  “This is it. This is my favorite book. It’s The Secret Garden. It says in the front that it belonged to someone named Anna.”

  The child placed the book, clearly well-loved, into Rebecca’s hands.

  “I always loved this one too,” Rebecca replied.

  “It’s so good. It’s all about hidden things and secrets. I’ve read it so many times, I almost have it memorized,” Aubrey said with a grin.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure.”

  “When you said you saw the woman from the painting in other places, what exactly did you mean?”

  “Well, I see her everywhere—in the kitchen drinking coffee, in the sitting room reading, walking through the rose garden. I see her in my room a lot too.”

  Rebecca’s breathing increased, her heart practically bursting out of her chest. The little girl must have been mistaken. Or maybe she just had an overactive imagination.

  “I think the woman lives here,” she continued.

  “Why do you think that, Aubrey?”

  “I don’t know. She seems like she belongs to the house. The man does too.”

  “The man?”

  “Yeah, there’s always a man with her.”

  “What does the man look like?”

  “He’s really handsome, like a hero out of a book. And he has a kind face. He smiles a lot. The lady smiles all the time too.”

  Rebecca grabbed her phone from her purse and scrolled through the photos quickly. Tears filled her eyes as she stopped on the picture. She had taken the shot of Hank and Aubrey the first time they came into her diner together. It was the day she’d known for sure they belonged together. It seemed like a lifetime ago.

  “Is this the man?”

  Rebecca’s hands trembled as she turned her phone toward the child. The little girl’s eyes lit up and she smiled widely when she saw the picture.

  “Yeah, that’s him. And the woman too.”

  “And you’ve seen them here? Together?” Rebecca’s body began to shake.

  “Yes, they’re always together, holding hands and smiling.”

  Tears began to flow down Rebecca’s cheeks, but for the first time in months, they weren’t tears of sadness.

  “And they both look happy?”

  “They seem really happy. I asked them once why they were always smiling.”

  “And what did they say?”

  “The man said he smiles because the woman loves him.”

  “Oh, Hank,” Rebecca whispered. “And what did the woman say?”

  “The lady said she smiles because they’re together, and her destiny is entwined with his.”

  Thanks

  Thanks for reading NOTHING HIDDEN EVER STAYS. I do hope you enjoyed my story. I appreciate your help in spreading the word, including telling a friend. Before you go, it would mean so much to me if you would take a few minutes to write a review and share how you feel about my story so others may find my work. Reviews really do help readers find books. Please leave a review on your favorite book site.

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  H.R. Mason is an Ohio girl transplanted into the Pacific Northwest. She is a homeschooling mom of three daughters, a wife of one mailman, and a people-watching introvert who can be found hiding out in the nearest corner. Nothing Hidden Ever Stays is her debut gothic suspense novel.

  Acknowledgments

  This is the boo
k that almost wasn’t. When this story idea first came to me, I pushed it aside because I “didn’t write that kind of book.” After three years of ignoring the idea, I realized that rather than going away, the characters and plot had become even more vivid in my mind, begging to find their place on the page. Disregarding my self-doubt, I began to write, discovering quickly that no book had ever breathed itself into existence for me quite as effortlessly as this one. I’m so glad I took a chance.

  I have a lot of people to thank for helping guide this novel into existence.

  Christy Peterson, thank you for being the very first reader of Nothing Hidden Ever Stays. The way you devoured each chapter gave me the confidence to keep writing.

  Cameron, my husband, thanks for actually reading this one. Your enjoyment of each chapter made me realize I was on the right path.

  My daughters, thank you for understanding the days when I was fully lost in my own head, completely immersed in the storyline. The way you believe in me and what I do keeps me going.

  Chloe, thank you for helping me research mental illness. I wanted to do it justice.

  Treena, thank you for using your talents to help me create the Ross family tree. Your passion for genealogy inspires me.

  Tangled Tree Publishing, thank you so much for taking a chance on this book. Your belief in my work continues to humble me.

  My tribe, your solid encouragement gives me a safe place to land.

  Finally, this book was almost completely written in the corner chair at the office of Liz Borromeo Dance while waiting for my daughters’ dance classes. That tiny space supplied the environment I needed to get the words on the page. Located in The Academy building in downtown Vancouver, WA, it is said to be haunted. Perhaps that’s why the inspiration was strongest in that room.

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