Captured Lies (4 page)

CHAPTER SIX

A man stepped out from behind some trees. He was standing near
the back of her Hyundai rental. She stopped and stared. His black suit was
appropriate for a funeral but she didn’t remember seeing him at the grave site.
He looked as though he’d just raised his head from prayer, his feet were still
shoulder width apart and his hands were clasped loosely in front of him. Who
was he? What was he doing over there? Why was he looking at her so expectantly?
Not just the casual, hmm-who-are-you but the I-need-to-talk-to-you-and-I-know-this-won’t-be-well-received
look.

Bailey frowned. What could he
possibly want with her? She was tempted to look over her shoulder but she knew
she was the last person there. Slowly she made her way along the gravel road, her
eyes never leaving his face. As she neared she noticed that he wasn’t as old as
she’d first thought. Kind of cute with a young George Clooney look – dark and
mysterious. A shudder shook her body causing her to hesitate a few feet away
from the car.

“Hello. I’m sorry for your loss.”

She’d heard that over and over
for the last few days and yet she felt that this man, who she had no idea who
he was, actually meant it. She tilted her head to the side as she studied him.
There was something else in his voice.

“Did you know my mom?”

He looked down, his whole body
visibly tensing. A couple of heartbeats later he raised his head. “No. Not… No
I didn’t.” His sky blue eyes darkened. “I just wanted to give you my
condolences.” He stared at her for several seconds before turning and striding
away.

Bailey stared after him in
confusion. Something had just happened but she wasn’t sure what. It was as
though he’d made a decision that was directly related to her. She watched him
climb into a dark SUV and drive away. He wound his way through the maze of
roads as though he knew them well.

Maybe he was from the funeral
home. They had been so thorough but maybe they had overlooked something. She
couldn’t imagine what. Someone had paid for her mom’s funeral but they wouldn’t
tell her who. Or why.

That hit Bailey hard. Her mom had
known she was dying. And someone else had known too, the person who had forked
out a lot of money so that her mom had the best funeral and ceremony. Could
that have been the guy? But why would he? Why would anyone? Her mom wasn’t
close to anyone. She’d told her there was no family. Who was this mystery
person? Did her mom have a boyfriend she hadn’t told her about?
He’s kind of
young, Mom but wow.

For a brief second that
brightened her mood. It would be cool if her mom hadn’t been alone. Bailey
sighed. Her mom hadn’t dated and never would she have even looked at a younger
man. No, if she’d been going to find a man, she’d always said he’d be eighty
and too darn weak to lift his arms.

So who was that then? Did he pay the
invoice? But why would he do that? She grabbed the car door handle.
I just
want to go home.

Her mind wouldn’t stop though.
She was curious as to who had paid the bill. Could it have been the couple with
the daughter? No, because they couldn’t have known her mom, she’d never let
Bailey near dance. They had wanted to thank Donna for helping their daughter
with her ballet. They’d be embarrassed when they realize the mistake they’d
made.

Bailey’s headache pounded through
her skull with jackhammer precision. She pressed her fingertips against her
temples. The wind whipped up, letting its presence be known as it wound its way
through the trees and gravesites. Fear came from nowhere and landed with a
punch to the gut and then spidered its way throughout her body. It wasn’t the
noise so much as the absence of it. Someone was watching her. She knew it. It
was a feeling that had served her well in the past. Looking around, she noted
the rows upon rows of granite, etched with names, dates and loving memories that
surrounded her. The flowers dotting the graves and the shrubs and pine trees
broke up the uniformity but it was still deserted. She couldn’t help but
shudder at what all that meant. For a brief second she had a vision of all the
bodies rising up from the graves, with arms held forward, walking towards her.

All of a sudden the breeze which
had been like a gentle caress blew with a howling force. She staggered at the
impact of it.

Struggling to stand upright, she
looked up. Big drops of rain hit her in the face. Heavy gray clouds encased the
sky. She scrambled for the door handle. Grabbing it, she yanked it open and
dove in, just as the downpour started. She sat there for several minutes
staring at the bleak sight. Sheets of rain obliterated her view. Fumbling around
in the unfamiliar car, she managed to get it started and then found the
windshield wiper switch. She flipped it on to high speed. The deluge hit her
window like a waterfall. The wipers were flipping as fast as possible and still
weren’t able to clear it for more than a second.

A chill scooted down her spine
like a colony of ants. Shivering, it wasn’t clear to her if it was from the
cold and rain or the sense of dread that the cemetery had evoked in her, or all
that she wasn’t ready to acknowledge. She eased the Hyundai forward, straining
to try and see through the curtain of water. Puddles the size of mini lakes
formed. The poorly graveled road had turned into a child’s dream muck fest. Out
of respect for the place, she was trying to drive slow but her car kept losing
traction. Fed up with absolutely everything, she sped up, ignoring the mud
packs being flung from her tires.

As she reached the main street,
she sagged over the steering wheel as she peered out at the fast moving traffic
that didn’t seem fazed by the poor weather. The worst part was that she
shouldn’t be either. This was normal weather for Victoria. Even that fleeting
realization made her really sad. And quick on its heels was another – was it
home or a place she’d been hiding out from her mom? Something she’d no longer
need. Shaking off those morbid thoughts, she eased out onto Memorial Drive and
headed east towards the Deerfoot Trail.

An hour and a half later, thanks
to accidents and flooding and the odd feeling that she had to make sure she had
no tail, she finally pulled up to her mom’s little blue house in Canyon Meadows
in southwest Calgary. The rain which had eased to a slow drizzle had her
mesmerized as she sat staring at the depressing view. No thoughts, no sounds,
no smells, nothing intruded on the glazed focus she had out her windshield.

A horn honked and she jerked
upright. How long had she been sitting there? A dog shot across the street and
disappeared around the corner of a house. She blinked a few times, becoming
aware of the fogged windshield and the chill that had invaded the car and was
working its way through her thin clothes. She reached for the handle. Leaning
heavily against the door, she pushed it open. Exhausted beyond anything she’d
ever experienced, she lifted her left hand overhead and grabbed the support.
One. Two. Three. Heave.

Awkwardly and slowly, like a
person with severe arthritis, she managed to pull herself out. She wobbled a
few minutes before she found her land legs. After opening the trunk she pulled
out her suitcase and carry-on bag.

Out of habit she walked up to the
front door and lifted her hand to knock. Her mom was always in the living room,
which the door opened onto. Just before her knuckles touched the wood she
realized what she was doing. Her fist froze in mid-air, she was so shocked she
couldn’t move for a few seconds. Jerking back, she jumped down the four steps
and headed around to the side. At the gate she dropped her luggage as she
reached up to play with the tricky slider lock. After a few tries she got it
open. Closing but not latching it, she continued to the back of the house. She
hurried to the table and wooden stool set in the middle of the lawn as the
chilly air wrapped around her. In the seat closest to the house a hidden clip
had been installed under the seat. Once she’d retrieved the key she made her
way back to the door. Her hand shook as she shoved the key in the lock. It took
several attempts to unlock it.

She pushed her way in. The last
time she’d left hit her like a locomotive. The fight she’d had with her mom
flashed like a movie rerun. They were, as always, yelling at each other.

“Don’t go, Bails. What aren’t
you telling me?”

“Not a damn thing, Mom. Like
always, you want to control my every move. Well, not this time. And never again.
You have meddled in my life for the last time. Bye, Mom.”

“Bails. No!”

Bailey walked out of the
house, giving the door a heavy push. The hard slam infused her with a sense of
satisfaction.

“Don’t come back, unless you
learn some damn manners first! Someone has to look after you and I’m the one
who took the job. No one else was there. I’m your mother, Bails!”

She kept walking without
acknowledging her mom. For the first time she left without a word. Climbing
into her car, she drove away.

Her visit had been the same as
always.

Fighting.

Yelling.

Storming away.

Tentatively making up.

Moving on.

Bailey shook her head. If she
could have the last month back she could change everything. One month. How was
she supposed to know that life would alter so drastically in that time? She
could have gotten her mom medical help. She could have done something.

Two years and she could change
another big ugly fight they’d had. She’d wanted her mom to come visit but her mom
had refused, asking, “Who’d man the store? How would I get there?” Or five
years ago when they’d argued about Bailey moving out east. She hadn’t really
decided where, it had just been a thought. But her mom had gone berserk,
totally freaking out. She’d scared Bailey more than the hundred times they’d
moved at night. Not moving east was another in her mom’s one hundred and one
rules that hadn’t made sense.

If she could back fourteen years to
when she'd turned fifteen, she could fix it. Everything had changed that summer
and nothing either one of them had done could bring back the closeness they’d
once felt. This time there’d be no making up.
I’m so sorry, Mom.

Bailey felt like she went from
free falling, to crashing with a driving force. She dropped to the floor, tears
already dripping off her face. Heavy, wracking sobs tore through her. They
started in her gut and ripped outwards. Her body shook as the pain and anguish
coursed through her, like a hurricane zipping across the ocean to crash on
land, tearing to shreds anything in its wake. She curled on her side, hugging
her knees to her chest, clenching herself into the smallest ball she could.

After minutes or hours or days, she
didn’t know, the sound of the old style ticking clock filtered through her
consciousness. Opening her gritty, burning eyes, she closed them quickly as the
last vestiges of light bounced off her mom’s brilliantly shined floor. She
pushed herself up, arching her neck so she could see over the top of the fridge
to read the time. 5:40 a.m.? p.m.?

Beyond the window, it was still a
bleary day - grey skies and muted light. She guessed evening. Shifting
slightly, the hard surface dug into her tender hip. She groaned then shivered
as the cold linoleum penetrated her thin, damp clothing. Easing herself up, she
flopped back against the door. She took a deep breath and then on her butt
shuffled a few feet to grab hold of the kitchen counter. Using it as a prop,
she pulled herself up. Her stomach chose that minute to growl. She looked down
at it in disbelief.

Did I have toast this morning?
Or was that last night?

Grabbing a cup from the cupboard,
she filled it with cold, tap water. The fluoride taste turned her off but she
downed it anyway, hoping it would appease her empty body for a while. Her
stomach instantly protested by knotting up and giving her an instant stomach
ache. She held her belly for a minute trying to ease the pain, realizing it was
more of a symbol for what she was avoiding. Where she found the courage to turn
and look at what she had wanted to avoid, the reason she hadn’t come to the house
before now.

The city newspaper lay open on a
stack of newspapers. Just like always. Her mom would read some and then rush
off to work, do laundry, grocery shop, whatever and then she’d come back and
look over some more. It had to be examined from front to back. Not necessarily
in order but it all had to be reviewed. She should be coming back to check it
over some more. Give her opinion on what the government was doing wrong.
Grumble about who was still in government.

She’d be back, at any moment.

Bailey’s breath hitched and she
pressed her hand to her stomach. Everything else looked the same, clean, tidy
and packed so tight with stuff, not a thing out of place.

But it wasn’t the same.

She looked down at the mug in her
hand –
Friends are like sunshine, there for the good times and gone for the
bad.

To avoid this, she’d chosen to
stay at a hotel the last two nights. She hadn’t needed to go to the house
before. Staying probably wasn’t a good idea. The memories would hound her but
she also knew she wasn’t in any shape to drive. Not wanting to deal with any of
it, she picked up her dark red luggage which was splayed out across the floor.
She flipped her carry-on over one shoulder and grabbed the pull-up handle of
the suitcase and dragged it behind her. She walked out of the kitchen, turning
right at the living room to go down the hallway. Her feet took the route that,
although not done frequently, was still familiar. Her eyes stayed focused on
getting to the spare bedroom and getting some sleep. She stepped into the room,
dropping her stuff at the end of the bed, in the corner.