The Little Lies We Hide, page 20
That was the worst.
For her to trust again, she would have to make herself vulnerable and she didn’t want to do that. But the alternative was to live at arms-length from her mom, like two adversaries walking wide circles around each other, day after day, night after night. She didn’t want that either.
Angel wanted the lie to have never existed.
But she couldn’t have that either.
She started to feel like the world was too small around her. She couldn’t breathe. Invisible hands formed around her throat and were cutting out her oxygen intake. Her lungs were gasping for air, her chest felt like it was going to cave in, her head was spinning.
“Angel, what’s—”
* * *
Cassandra watched her daughter become overly distressed and the mom in her kicked in. She was no longer hiding behind her fear, the wrongs she had done pushed aside like week-old leftovers, and she stepped forward just in time to catch Angel as she started to fall.
It had been years since Angel’s last panic attack. They had been frequent when the fights between Cassandra and David had been regular, but in time those had died off with Cassandra’s hopes of salvaging her marriage—something else she had blamed David for, but once again, something born from her own lies.
Cassandra thought her daughter’s dead weight was going to pull her down with her, but all that athletic training from years of playing field hockey and volleyball came back out of retirement and she was able to ease Angel onto the road. Not the best place to pass out, but at least she had prevented her daughter from smacking her head on the asphalt.
She sat on the road and put Angel’s head in her lap and ran her hand through her daughter’s beautiful long auburn hair. A flood of guilt tried to drown her, but she held her head above it all, tired of feeling sorry for herself, tired of hiding in the mess she had created, tired of blaming her husband.
The only thing that mattered was right here with her.
“Hey sweetie,” she said when Angel started to open her eyes. “You’re okay. You passed out.”
“Where are we?”
“On the side of the road.”
Angel moved her head and looked around. “Oh!”
“It’s okay,” Cassandra said and helped her daughter sit up. “But you gave me a scare.”
Angel gave her mom a sorry sort of smile. “Thanks for catching me.”
They both got to their feet. Cassandra wanted to say something but everything that came to mind felt trite. Her hands kept wanting to touch Angel, bring her comfort and safety, but that right had been rescinded. At least for now. She hoped it wouldn’t be forever.
“You’re welcome.”
A moment passed between them where they made eye contact and a private conversation seemed to occur instantly, the sort of understanding that could only happen between a mother and daughter who had just gone through hell and made it out alive—wounded, shaken, but still in one piece.
“I love you,” Cassandra said.
“I know.”
TWENTY-THREE
Emily had just finished making arrangements with the funeral director when she heard the front door open and close. Her chin fell against her chest and she took a breath to calm down, then she put the phone on the counter and rushed toward the front door. Her annoyance and fatigue climbed on top of each other and left her with very little energy.
“Dad?” She waited a beat. “Dad?”
She wasn’t surprised. A sudden shot of adrenaline kicked in and she burst through the front door, jumped off the porch—her knees reminded her that she wasn’t ten anymore and should really use the stairs next time—and she stopped by the street. She looked up and down but didn’t see him.
“Crap!”
She ran to the back of the house but the back yard was empty. She stood with her hands on her hips, indecisive. She entered the house through the back door and sprinted up the stairs, hoping he was in his bedroom.
Her dad was not there. She checked all the bedrooms and the bathroom and she couldn’t find him. She hurried down the stairs and nearly lost her balance. Luckily, her hand found the railing and stopped her from a bad fall. She crashed through the front door in full panic.
She had just lost her dad.
“Where would he go?” she muttered under her breath. “Dad, where are you going? I don’t have time for this today. Jesus, where is everyone? I can’t do this alone.”
To her left, the rest of Main Street led to the Jock River Bridge—which had been completely redone just last year—and out of town. To her right was Franktown Road, which split Forest Creek down the middle, with the older homes on the south side and the newer development on the north side. It was a busy street during the day, but now that it was after six and all the shops were closed, traffic would be lighter. Still, the thought of her dad crossing Franktown Road and getting hit by a car made blood rush to her head.
She started to run up the street.
Emily had never been a good runner. It required a lot of effort. She’d always envied joggers who seemed to float just above the pavement and didn’t seem to struggle to breathe. By the time she reached the corner of Main Street and Franktown Road, she had a stitch burning a hole in her left side and her lungs were tight and gasping for air.
She stood at the corner with her hands on her knees, panting like a dog on a sweltering day. She had no idea why she hadn’t jumped in her car; probably thought she might miss him if she drove by too fast.
Didn’t matter now.
To her left, the road led out of town and there was nothing there to draw her dad. To the right, there was a small plaza with a grocery store, a Tim Hortons, and a few other shops. And the cemetery.
Maybe, she thought.
Emily had nothing else to go on. The cemetery was where all the generations were buried—the Knightons, the MacDonalds, the O’Briens. Her mom was going to be buried there on Friday. Maybe her dad thought his wife was already there and he’d gone to visit.
She couldn’t run anymore so she walked as fast as the stitch in her side allowed. She couldn’t see him ahead of her and she was beginning to doubt her instinct. What if he’d gone down to the Jock River Bridge after all? He and Bradley used to go fishing there. She stopped, turned around, took a few steps, turned around again. Which way? She rubbed her forehead as if trying to pull the answer from her brain. Nothing came.
“Keep going,” she said to herself just as a young teenage girl walked by and gave Emily a weird and somewhat cautious look. “Sorry. I’m looking for my dad. You didn’t happen to see an old man walking that way?”
“I just came from Cranberry Street,” she said. “I didn’t see anyone.”
“Thank you,” Emily said and headed east again. She passed Cranberry Street, then Kingsley Street, and still didn’t see her father. “Where are you?”
* * *
Bradley left Lilly out on the porch—she was going to call her mom—and he walked into the house, expecting to find his sister, but after calling her a couple of times and getting no answer, he went looking. He wondered what it was she wanted to talk to him about but guessed it must have something to do with David. Between Cassandra’s bombshell and David’s determination to sell the bakery, Bradley felt exhausted.
And he still hadn’t been able to talk to Kate. What was he going to tell her now? He had no idea what he was planning to do, so maybe it was a good thing he hadn’t reached her yet. There was a bit of irony in the fact that just a little over twenty-four hours ago she had brought up her desire to maybe have a baby with him, and he had basically balked at the idea, and here he was, a father after all.
Granted, Angel wasn’t a baby and didn’t really need him. In fact, she might not even want him in her life. As much as he wanted to be in hers, he realized that she might not feel the same. Being her uncle was one thing, but being her dad might not be as enticing to her.
They would need to talk.
He wondered how Cassandra and Angel were getting along, whether they had managed to resolve anything. He hoped so. Not that he expected Angel to let her mom off easy, but he’d seen how close they were before all of this and he didn’t want to think about their relationship being completely ruined. Changed, for sure, but hopefully not irreversibly damaged.
He heard voices out front.
“Emily and Dad aren’t here,” Bradley said when he stepped out onto the porch and saw Angel and Cassandra. “Her car is still in the driveway.” He pointed toward it.
“Maybe she took Grandpa with her to go stop David,” Angel said. “Since we took too long to get back.”
“Possible,” Bradley said. “But her phone is on the kitchen counter.”
“That’s a bit odd,” Cassandra said.
“I agree,” Bradley said. “I’d say she left in a hurry and simply forgot it or didn’t have time to get it.”
“You think something happened to your dad?” Cassandra said.
“What could have happened to Grandpa?” Angel said, her voice rising.
“I don’t know, honey.”
“She would have taken the car if that were the case,” Bradley said. “Maybe he just left the house without telling her and she’s gone after him.”
“They can’t be far then,” Cassandra said.
“We should split up and go look for them,” Bradley said. “I’ll get my phone.”
“Me too,” Cassandra said.
After they had retrieved their phones, they all congregated on the front lawn. Although he knew he really had nothing to do with everything that was happening, Bradley couldn’t shake the feeling that he was the cause of this crazy day. It was like his coming home had set in motion a sequence of events that just seemed to be getting worse.
“Angel and Lilly, you two go down to the bridge, look around, and if you don’t find Grandpa, text your mom. We’re going to head up to Franktown Road.” He looked at the driveway and saw Cassandra’s car blocked by David’s and Emily’s cars. “Guess we’re on foot too.”
“Where are you going?” Angel said.
Bradley shook his head. “No idea. Text us and maybe we’ll know then. Hopefully you find him by the bridge. He used to love going there and sit by the river.”
“He took me there often,” Angel said. “And talked about you and him fishing.”
That made Bradley smile.
“Grandpa missed you a lot,” Angel said.
“It was hard not to come back,” he said and looked away, hoping they wouldn’t see the guilt in his eyes. So much had happened while he hid on the west coast. “Guess it was a mistake.”
“What was?” Angel said. “Not coming back sooner or coming back at all?”
“We should get going,” he said, looking at Angel. “The sooner we find them, the sooner we can find out what Emily wants to tell us.”
Bradley and Cassandra watched Angel and Lilly as they began to run south through what was once the downtown core of Forest Creek, where all the shops were. It had once been a vibrant stretch of road when his parents were young, but it had become run down over the years. By the time he’d run away, everything had looked old and dated. The bakery had been no exception, but after it had been renovated, several other businesses did the same. Business was slowly returning to Main Street.
“You’re liking this,” Cassandra said.
“Liking what?” he said.
“Being a dad,” she said. “I see it on your face.”
“It’s that obvious?”
She nodded.
“I’m not hating it.” They started to walk up toward Franktown Road, picking up the pace until they reached the intersection. “I just don’t know how she feels about it.”
“I don’t think she does either,” Cassandra said. “I didn’t make it easy on you both.”
“How was your conversation?”
“Hopeful.”
That’s exactly how he felt about the entire situation. And confused. He had no idea what the future held now, what he was going to tell Kate. With each passing minute he felt more and more like staying. Ideally, he’d be able to convince her to give up their life in Vancouver and move to Forest Creek. He didn’t think that had any chance of happening, which left him the difficult decision of choosing between his daughter and the woman he loved.
And then there was Cassandra.
He hadn’t totally left her off the hook, but it was also hard not to think of the history they shared . . . and the child they had conceived. For a second, he wished he didn’t know about Angel.
But it passed.
Once they reached Franktown Road, they headed east, toward the new plaza and the old cemetery, crossing streets that hadn’t changed in decades. Bradley did notice that where there once had been a gas station, it was now just a lot with Amish built sheds for sale. The old service bays had been turned into an antique store.
“That’s good,” he said. “Maybe we can all be hopeful that everything will somehow work out.”
“Yeah, and I’m Mother Teresa.”
They stopped, stared at each other, and started to laugh. Hopeful. Maybe not everything could be worked out, but Bradley felt that some of them could be.
“I needed that,” Cassandra said. “I think I’m beginning to live again. That secret . . . it was like being buried alive for the last eighteen years. And I finally dug myself out.” She glanced at Bradley. “If only I could have done that without hurting you and Angel.”
“Can’t undo it now.”
“No, it can’t.”
Bradley put a hand on her arm to stop her. “I know I can’t really speak for Angel, but I really believe that we’ll be fine. The shock of it all will fade, and then we’ll have two choices: accept or keep blaming you. My money is that she’ll accept. She doesn’t strike me as the sort of person who’ll hold a grudge.”
“She’s not.” Cassandra hesitated. “You?”
They started walking again, passing by an updated version of the old MacEwen gas station on the opposite side of the road. Bradley was looking straight ahead when he spoke. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t hold grudges, because I’ve been holding onto one for half my life. Maybe it’s time that I let go of that one.”
“You didn’t exactly answer my question.”
Bradley glanced at her as they kept walking. “I did play a role in all of this. I could have stopped us that night, but I didn’t. I wanted you so much, had for a long time. My mistake was to never question you when you became pregnant. That was a mistake made by a nineteen-year-old boy who wasn’t thinking very straight. Every day, I waited for you to tell me it was over with you and David, and the more days passed that I didn’t hear those words, the more depressed and angry I became. The only thing I thought about once I heard that you were getting married was to get as far away from you and him as I could. So, if there is a grudge to be held about what happened, it’s a grudge against myself.”
“You’re being too easy on me.”
They stopped in front of the cemetery. “Probably. I just don’t see the point in punishing you any more than you already punished yourself.”
“I just hope you’re not trying to be my white knight.”
That drew a tired smile out of him. “I’m not that pure.”
They were staring at each other when Cassandra’s phone buzzed. She looked at the text from Angel and then showed it to Bradley.
No sign of Grandpa at the bridge. What now?
“Tell her—” Bradley started to say, but stopped. He looked past Cassandra’s shoulders. “Tell her we found them.”
* * *
Emily stood at the far end of the cemetery where the family plots were—she hadn’t been here in a long time and couldn’t believe how many of her ancestors were buried here, starting with her Great-Grandma Sarah’s parents, who had died in 1939 and 1944, neither yet seventy. She had found her dad right here, thank God, and when she’d been about to scold him like he used to do to her and her brothers, she’d realized that she’d be wasting her time. The look on his face, that was the look of a man who was completely heartbroken.
Her anger choked itself out of existence.
“She’s not here,” he said. “I looked at all the headstones and didn’t see her name. Why isn’t she here?”
“Mom is still at the funeral home,” Emily said. She couldn’t bear to tell him that she was actually in a freezer somewhere. Now that she’d made the arrangements, they were going to cremate her body. It saved space in the cemetery and would allow a few more generations to be buried with the rest of the family. “She’ll be buried here Friday after the service.”
“Oh,” Henry simply said. “Is that far away?”
“Today is Saturday, so it’s almost a week away.”
Henry frowned. “How many days is that?”
“Six days, Dad. We’re going to bury Mom in six days.”
“I see,” he said and fell silent. The whistle of a train approaching cut through the air, but they’d both been hearing trains rush by the village their whole lives, so neither reacted. A few birds took off from the trees lining the edge of the cemetery, but other than that, once the train had gone by, it was utterly quiet where they stood.
“Dad, we should go.”
“I miss your mother,” Henry said and Emily knew how he felt. “But she could be a hard woman. I thought maybe eventually she would accept what her mother had bestowed on us, and she did up to a point. She just never crossed the line she’d drawn for herself.”
Emily touched the letter she had folded and stashed in her back pocket. Another exposed family secret that answered a lot of questions, but she wasn’t convinced it was going to solve anything. It certainly made her see her dad differently; her vision of him was a bit muddy now. And the fact that she had never noticed her mother act weirdly all these years either showed that her mom had been a master of deception, or that Emily had paid little attention to what was happening around her while growing up.
A bit of both, probably.
“We should go home,” she said. “The others will be wondering where we went.”
