Stones Unturned (Meade Lake Series Book 2)

by Taylor Danae Colbert

  “Feel like anything in particular?” she asks. I shake my head.

  “I eat just about anything,” I say. She points out a small sandwich shop that sits on a pier on the water a few yards up. I veer off the highway and pull into the gravel lot.

  “This place has the best subs in town,” she says as we get out. I nod.

  “Good to know.”

  We walk up to the ordering window, and as I stare at the menu, I hear her order two sandwiches.

  “Hey, Mike,” she says. “We’ll take two turkey sandwiches on rye with chips on the side.”

  I look at her, and she shrugs. “You said you eat anything, right? You’ll like it.”

  I smile and nod.

  “Turkey it is.”

  Mike slides the food to us through the window, and I follow her to a table on the deck next to the railing, close to the water.

  We eat in silence for a few minutes, watching the boats pass. She’s right. This sandwich is good.

  “So, you’re in college, right?” I ask her, finally breaking the silence. No use in dancing around all the questions I have for her. If we’re going to get to know each other at all, we have to start with the basics. She nods, picking a chip up and popping it into her mouth.

  “Just finished my sophomore year. I go to Sinclair University in Pennsylvania,” she says. “It’s about two hours away.”

  “What are you studying?” I ask her.

  “Business,” she says. “I want to come back here and pick up where May left off.”

  I swallow a big bite and take a sip of my water.

  “That’s really, uh, that’s great,” I say. I avoid the topic of me and my half of the inheritance. “I know we haven’t talked much since I’ve been here, but I just wanted to say that I’m really sorry, Haven. My head is spinning from all of this, but I just...I can’t imagine what that feels like, to lose the person who meant the most to you.”

  She stares straight ahead then sniffs and drops her crust back onto her plate. She nods slowly.

  “She gave me the most wonderful life,” she says, and that’s when I realize her voice is cracking. She looks up at me, and I see the tears pooling in her eyes. I have the urge to reach out and take her hand, but I don’t. She just finally agreed to be in the same vicinity as me for longer than a minute. I can’t overstep right now.

  “What was it like?”

  Her eyes drop down to her hands on the table as she traces the knots in the wood with her index finger.

  “It was magic,” she says. “May was magic. We never argued. We were meant to live together, I think.”

  I smile weakly, but there’s something about her words that stings my heart.

  “She was strict, but only about things like my self-confidence. She wanted me to remember that I could do anything. And I did. I will.”

  She smiles, and I realize it’s the first time I’ve seen her smile since I’ve been here. She’s stunning, her bronze skin bright in the sun. Freckles are sprinkled across her nose, giving her a youthful look, but the pain behind her eyes shows she’s seen some real hurt in her nineteen years.

  “I remember this one time, I told her I wanted to paint my room. She offered to have painters come, but I told her I wanted to do it on my own. So, we went and bought all the supplies, and she walked me through it. When it came time to paint, she walked out of the room. I called after her, but she told me this was my project. I couldn’t believe it. Left me to do it all myself when she could have helped me. It took me a month, but I got that damn room painted. Some of the carpet got painted, too, but at least it was done. And that’s how she was with everything. She supported every dream I ever had and made sure I had the tools to reach it. But she also made sure I knew that I had to get it. No one else could do the work for me.”

  “It sounds like she had a good head on her shoulders.”

  Haven nods.

  “The best. The way she changed this town, the way people looked at her, you just knew she was special. I’m so thankful she’s the woman that raised me.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat. I know she means it as praise for May, but it also feels like it’s a dig at my mother. At our mother.

  I wait for her to ask me about her, to see what my life was like, but she doesn’t.

  “Man,” I finally say after a long pause, “this is just all so surreal.” Haven scoffs and pulls herself up onto the table, facing out over the lake. I follow suit and sit next to her, careful to leave a comfortable distance between us.

  “You’re telling me,” she says.

  “Did you...did you always know about me?” I ask. She nods.

  “Always. May didn’t keep secrets from me,” she says. Another dig at my mom. But I can’t say I blame her.

  “I thought my parents didn’t, either,” I tell her. “But the longer I’m here, the more things seem to come to the surface.”

  Haven’s eyes drop to the ground in front of us.

  “I guess I was naive all those years,” I say. “I mean, I knew they weren’t always the happiest. But an affair? Another...another child?”

  “And a black child, at that,” she says matter-of-factly. “I guess it’s been a tough few weeks for both of us.”

  We look at each other, and a sad smile crosses over my lips. Suddenly, a slow laugh escapes her.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Nothin’. Just funny. Like mother like daughter, I guess,” she says with a shrug.

  “What? What do you mean?”

  She shoots me a knowing look.

  “You might have only been here for a week or two,” she says. “But we can all see what’s goin’ on with you and Derrick.”

  Her lips turn up mischievously, and I bite the corners of my mouth to try not to smile.

  “What? I...no way. He’s just... I don’t even know what you’re––”

  “Nah, don’t worry. Derrick doesn’t date, really,” she says, finally calming down. My shoulders sink in disappointment.

  “Oh,” I say.

  “He’s pretty guarded, actually. Seems to like you, though. Do me a favor. When you leave, let him down easy, okay?”

  My eyes shoot to hers, and I don’t know what cuts deeper––the idea that I’d be hurting Derrick, or the fact that she’s so certain I’ll be leaving.

  14

  We get back to the house, and Haven says a quick goodbye before disappearing down to the water. As I watch her leave, I’m surprised to feel a little bit of sadness come over me. I actually enjoyed my time with her today. And I want more.

  Now, I’m lying on the couch in this giant living room in this giant house all by myself, wondering how the fuck I ended up here.

  As I’m flicking through the channels on the giant flatscreen that hangs above the two-story stone fireplace, my phone buzzes on the end table next to me.

  “Hello?” I ask.

  “Kaylee, it’s Jeff,” his sing-song voice carries through the phone. “Listen, I got a call from May’s finance guy a few minutes ago. It looks like he’s almost done crunching all the numbers. I should have that full ledger for you tomorrow if you want to stop by the office and pick it up.”

  “Oh, that would be great,” I tell him. “Looking forward to seeing what May was doing.”

  “She was changing the world,” he says. “Well, Meade Lake’s world, anyway. See you tomorrow, sweetie.”

  I decide to “unpack” the few things I have in my drawers and explore the house a little more. There’s a study on the main level with a huge oak desk and floor-to-ceiling, built-in bookshelves. It looks like the books are sorted by genre. I poke around the non-fiction but settle on a romance novel. As I pluck it from the shelves, it sends the two books on either side of it crashing to the ground. I bend down to pick them up and see a box on the lower level. It has my mother’s name written across it in big black letters, and I freeze. I pull the box from its spot and carry it out to the living room. I set it on the giant coffee table and pull the lid off.
The box is full of books and envelopes and stacks of photos.

  I pull out one of the books and read the front. MILLSTOWN HIGH SCHOOL is carved into the leather. I flip through the pages until I find my mother. Her hair is teased in that 80s fashion, her sleeves a bit poofier than I would wear now. Her face is rounder, more full of life. But it’s the smile that gets me—so big and wide and real. I have never seen this smile on my mother’s face. Ones I’ve seen have been forced and plastered on at a company event or in public somewhere. Even behind the scenes, when it was just she and I, the relaxed version of the smile she had seemed to have something weighing on it. Now I know what that was.

  When I see her name, it stops me in my tracks: Karnie Dean. Dean. Before she became Karnie Jennings. Before she became Duke Jennings’ wife, and the rest of her identity was sealed up in a trophy-wife package sealed with a ribbon that was too tight to ever unravel. Even when an affair and a surprise baby tried to cut through it.

  I flick through the book, looking for her in the pictures of the clubs and sports, laughing, hugging friends. When I flip to the back, I see loads of scribbled notes that her friends signed. And then I see one that takes up half a page.

  Dear Karnie,

  I know we don’t know where the rest of our lives will take us. I know that when you go off to college next year, I’ll still be here in Millstown. But I know that, someday, our lives are going to cross again. You’re the love of my life, Karnie Dean.

  Your Billy

  I flip through the pages of the yearbook, searching for a William, or a Bill, or a Billy. And then I land on him. Billy Walter, a handsome black man toward the end of Mom’s class. He has this smile that lights up his whole face. His hair was styled in a bit of a fade then, and I freeze when I see his eyes. Big and round and brown. Sort of like Haven’s.

  I look into the box and see a huge envelope stuffed with pieces of paper. When I pull them out, I realize they’re letters to my mom. There are a few that are in similar fashion as the yearbook note. Young, innocent.

  Then there are a few more that are dated into her college years and even after I know she was already with my dad.

  Dear Karnie,

  I know things are harder. We can’t see each other much. I know you’re with him. But you should know that I don’t sleep without you. I wake up every day thinking about what I can do to make the world better for you. What I can do to make my world something you might be a part of again one day.

  I know he has it all, Karnie. But one day, I’ll be able to give you everything you need.

  Your Billy

  I feel this weird twist in my stomach as I read. It feels a little too personal reading these, like I’m violating their privacy. But I can’t stop.

  The next letter is dated the year I turned four. The year before Haven was born.

  Dear Karnie,

  I know it’s dangerous to send this to the house. I wasn’t sure how else to get in touch with you. Karnie, I’m ready for you. I’ve made my money. I got a house now, Karnie. When we were together last month, I told you I was close. I know you got that big old house now, and he can pay for whatever it is that you need. But I know you know that what we have isn’t something you can buy. I’ll love your little girl, Karnie, because she’s got you in her. If you want to work, I’m happy to stay home with her. If you want to stay home, I’ll work. You can be the best version of you with me.

  I know you know that night we were together will be the best night of your life, just like it will be for me. And if it’s the last night I ever spend with you, if that was the last time I’ll ever see you, I’ll hold onto it forever. This will be my last letter to you, Karnie. I can’t put myself through it anymore, and I won’t risk causing any damage to your marriage if it’s what you truly want. My number is on the inside of the envelope. If you’re ever ready, call me.

  Your Billy

  Tears pool in my eyes as I reread them. His handwriting is hard and thick, like he pressed into the paper with agony as he wrote. I dig through the box, trying to find the original envelope that the letter was in, but there’s nothing, and no return address on the other envelope.

  I feel a lump in my throat as I sink back to the floor, crouched down, staring at the bleeding ink on the pages in front of me, thinking of the bleeding heart that wrote them. And I think of my parents, and their marriage, their relationship. The surface-level bullshit I’ve witnessed my whole life with no real depth. I think of the lies they told to each other, the lies they told to me. And how the daughter of this woman, who once had a man love her so deeply, who opened his heart to loving me for her, sits on the floor of a giant lake house all alone, wondering how the fuck this all came to be.

  I reach my hand up to cover my mouth, the tears stinging my eyes as they drop from the corners. I don’t even hear the front door open. I don’t even hear the creak of the hardwoods as he rushes across them.

  “Hey, hey,” Derrick says, kneeling down in front of me. “What is it? What happened?”

  I startle, my eyes settling on his as I calm myself down. He leans forward and cups my cheek, swiping a tear away with his thumb. I swallow nervously as he glances around at the box and the letters that are strewn around me. Before I know it, he takes hold of my hand and pulls me into his chest, holding me tight to him while I cry—something I desperately need to do. We sit like that for a few moments, him holding the back of my head, me lying against the hard peaks of his chest.

  Finally, I clear my throat, his hand still on my cheek like he’s holding me steady.

  “I found these when I was in the study,” I tell him. “Things of my mom’s. And in them, I found these letters. I think they might be from...from Haven’s father.”

  Derrick’s eyes grow wide as he falls back against the floor, looking around.

  “What do they say?”

  I scoff.

  “A lot of things I’ve never come close to hearing my father say to her. ‘You’re the love of my life. I don’t sleep without you,’” I say, shrugging, holding the letters up. “I’ve never heard my parents tell each other they love each other, let alone anything like this. My parents don’t have this.” I throw the letters and the book back into the box and push it away from me. “I don’t think they ever did. And I always knew that, I think. But they seemed to have it all together, you know? They seemed to have everything they needed in each other. Never wanting for anything. But then I see these, and I realize, all along, she actually had nothing. She gave this up; she gave up someone wanting her like that. For what? She gave her child up. Because she wasn’t the right shade? Because he wasn’t a CEO?”

  My hands shake, and I realize how loud I am, as if screaming these questions into the air could somehow make my mother hear them in Lenburn.

  “It’s hard when people disappoint us,” he says, scooting over toward me and leaning back against the couch. “Especially when it’s the people we know best.”

  I look at him and cock my head, wondering what experience he has with this.

  “You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about my dad’s company. About this stupid manager role I’m supposed to be taking. You know there are fifteen executives at the company, and they’re all white? There’s this man there, Franklin. He’s been there since my dad opened the doors back in the nineties. So loyal. So intelligent in the tech world. He should be up there on that team.”

  “Have you ever mentioned Franklin to your dad?” he asks me. I nod.

  “Yeah. But he always has a reason, ya know? Something that makes another candidate more qualified. And when I look at it now, even when there are other people hired who aren’t white, they never seem to make it past the managerial level. It’s almost like it’s…”

  “Systemic,” he says, finishing my sentence better than I could. I nod slowly.

  “Yeah,” I choke out. “This whole time, my whole life, I knew my parents weren’t perfect. But I thought they were pretty damn close. They always wanted what was best for me. T
hey always bought me the best clothes, the most expensive computer, the best cars. Whatever I could have ever wanted. But through all of that, I was blind to everything else. Man, I’ve been such a naive idiot.”

  He nudges his shoulder against mine, rubbing his hands on his jeans.

  “That’s the trouble when the people you love hurt you,” he says. “You don’t recognize it as hurt right away, because you can’t even fathom them being capable of doing it.”

  I nod slowly.

  “I’m supposed to take that job,” I say just above a whisper. “I’m supposed to get one of those corner offices and be in charge of people who have more qualifications than I do. I’m supposed to decide if they get raises. Their whole damn livelihood. I’m supposed to be...him.”

  Derrick lifts his hand and covers mine, pulling it over to him.

  “Kaylee,” he says, looking down into my eyes. “The fact that you’re sitting here right now, telling me this, realizing all of this about the people who raised you, tells me that you are not like your father. Or your mother. You’re like May.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. His eyes dip down from mine to my lips, and his tongue juts out to wet his own. I feel this pull, and I press myself up closer to him, moving as near to him as possible without being on top of him. I reach my hand up to his face, and he swallows nervously. I feel his breath quicken as I pull myself closer to him.

  But as my hand lands on his cheek, he takes it and brings it gently to his lips. My eyes fall, and so does my stomach.

  “Kaylee, I…” he says, his voice drifting off. He kisses the back of my hand, and a chill shoots down my back. He shakes his head, and my hand drops from his lips. I push myself back, feeling vulnerable, exposed, and a little bit pissed off.

  “What is it, Derrick?” I ask him. I’ve had enough bullshit from my parents to last me a lifetime. I don’t really need any more. “You check on me, you touch me, but every time things feel like they might go a little bit further…”

  He pushes himself up to his feet as he stalks toward the deck doors. He puts a hand on the wood as he stares out over the black water. I follow him, wrapping my arms around my body.