Ghost Flower (31 page)

“Can I ask why you want to know?”

“I’m not sure. Not her feet, her shoes. They—they weren’t the right shoes for the outfit.” That wasn’t quite right, I felt, but it was close.

“I’m not aware of anything strange about her shoes. I’ll let you know if I hear anything,” he glowered.

“I didn’t have anything to do with what happened to Stuart’s hands,” I told him.

“I didn’t think you did.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, I—I just wanted you to know.”

He gave me a curt nod and walked out. I watched him go and again had the mad, insane urge to tell him I wasn’t what he thought I was. But even though he was the only person in the world I wanted to tell, he was the last person in the world I could.

I was going to have to work harder to stay away from him.

I filed that idea into the same drawer where I kept my better impulses, slid into the closest chair, and reopened the folder he’d
brought me. Flipping past the pages detailing the accident, I went straight to the photos. I saw our car from various angles, and then the bike.

It was twisted but still recognizable, a blue girl’s bike. The handgrips were white, but they looked like they’d been wrapped in yellow electrical tape. And on the metal bar between them someone had glued a red crystal star—

Liza’s bike.
I suddenly realized.
Liza’s bike from the yearbook photo.
I felt unnaturally calm, like I was watching all this from outside, looking down on myself.

That’s when I realized I wasn’t even supposed to be in the car.

I’d thought the threat was from the family, from Bain and Bridgette, but what if I’d been wrong? Maybe it was, but our little deal had unleashed something else. Something much more dangerous. Something vengeful.

Mine… best friends
forever
, I heard Liza’s voice saying, and I began to be afraid that I understood.

Pay attention
.

My phone rang.

A
n icy prickle skittered up my spine like it was a living thing. I reached for the phone with bloodless fingers.

It was Grant. “I heard about the accident. Are you okay? Where are you?”

“I’m at the hospital,” I told him. The warmth of his voice, his genuine concern, shattered me. “I’m scared, Grant,” I said. “I—I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“I’m coming to get you,” he said.

“I can’t leave,” I told him. “In case something happens to my grandmother.”

“We’ll meet downstairs. There’s a coffee shop called I Heart Warm Beverages. I’ll be there in ten minutes. You come whenever you can. You don’t have to do this alone.”

I had to swallow back a sob. “Thank you,” I said, awash in relief. “Thank you. I’ll—I’ll see you there.”

“You’re not alone, Aurora,” he said and hung up.

I tried not to think about the fact that it wasn’t me he was coming to help; it was her. The other Aurora.

He wrapped me in a big warm hug as soon as he saw me and held me like that, safe, kind, for a full minute. He pulled away slightly and noticed the folder I was holding.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Photos from the accident. They—she—” I stopped myself, trying to figure out how to explain the inexplicable. I ended up with, “Can we sit down?”

He guided me to a green bench that wrapped around a yellow table and slid in after me. “Sometimes when you’re trying to catch an image, an oblique angle is best, but I feel like for this we’d like to be more head on. Start at the top.”

“There’s something about shoes,” I said.

He shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t help you there. I’ve been wearing the same kind of shoes since I was ten.” He gestured under the table to his sneakers.

“Not like that, something—” I sighed and pushed the folder away across the table. His arm was next to mine on the bench, and I reached out and started playing with the cuff of his shirt. “Actually, I think what I want is not to think about it for a little while.”

“There are a lot of things I’d like to do to help take your mind off of it. But for now, what can I get you to drink? I Heart Warm Beverages is known for their warm beverages.”

“I’d love some tea.”

“Black? Green? White? Bubble?”

“Black, I guess.”

“With?”

“Milk.”

“Skim, whole, almond, or soy?”

Despite everything, I laughed. He smiled and patted himself on the back.

I said, “You take this seriously.”

“Warm beverages are not to be trifled with.” He slid out of the booth. “Besides, if working for Coralee doesn’t pan out, my food service skills may well be my livelihood one day. I’ll be right back.”

I followed him with my eyes. He had an easy way of moving, as though he were comfortable and relaxed in his body, and I had a flash image of what it would be like to lie next to him, stomach pressed against warm, smooth stomach, my head on his collarbone, his hand cradling my—

“Excuse me,” a female voice said, and looking up I saw the girl Colin had called Reggie at the club. His girlfriend. “Aurora, right? We sort of met earlier at the club.”

“I remember,” I told her. It didn’t come out exactly friendly, and she winced.

“I’m sorry. That’s why when I saw you here, I—but I understand if you don’t want—I mean—”

Grant came back then with my tea and the skim-milk jug. Reggie’s eyes got huge, and she blushed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was interrupting. I’ll just—”

“No,” Grant said. “Stay.” He turned to me. “I got a call from Coralee. She’s got some kind of emergency film need, so I have to go. I’m really sorry.”

I nodded. “Okay, but you owe me.”

“I do. Anything you want.”

“I want to see your movie.”

He said to me, “Anything but that.”

“Coward.”

“In this regard, yes.” He looked at Regina. “Will you take my place? Aurora needs some cheering up. I’ll bribe you with a warm beverage.”

I protested. “No, don’t—” To him I said, “She doesn’t have to—” I turned back to her: “Really I don’t need cheering up, I’m—”

Reggie slid onto the bench. “Tea,” she told him.

He took away the skim milk I’d finished and headed back to the counter.

“You didn’t want me to stay, did you?” she asked.

That’s one of those questions you can’t answer honestly. I said, “I didn’t want you to feel obligated,” which walked the line.

She pushed up her sleeves and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “I’ll go in a second. I came over because I wanted to apologize. For Colin today.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” I blew on my tea. “He was angry.”

“He’s got a temper,” she said, hunched over, hands in her lap, eyes staring into space. “He certainly does.”

Grant came back with a tea for her, the soy-milk jug, and three brown sugars. He turned to me and said, “We’ll pick up where we left off tomorrow? Lunch? Say one o’clock?”

I nodded. He bent, and we did an awkward kiss somewhere between the mouth and the cheek.

Reggie added some soy milk, then poured all three sugars into her tea. Real sugars, I noticed, not like Bridgette. She watched Grant leave. “He’s cute. He obviously adores you.”

“I’m not sure.” I brushed it away. “You were saying. About Colin’s temper?”

“He’s working on it, but sometimes it gets out of hand.”

I thought of the way he’d growled at me the night before, like a feral animal. “Does it ever scare you?”

She shook her head, swaying her glossy black ponytail from one side to the other. “My father had a temper when I was growing up. I know how to take care of myself.” Unconsciously, she began to rub
her right wrist where there was a tattoo of an orange butterfly, like the one on the necklace I’d bought.

“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling a kind of kinship with her.

She shrugged. “What are you going to do? Families are complicated.”

I thought about the Silvertons. That was an understatement. I said, “I like your tattoo. Is that a monarch butterfly?”

She glanced at it, as though she’d forgotten it was there. “Yes.” She smiled to herself. “When I got it, I was much younger, and I made up this whole thing about it being a symbol of rebirth. Now I just like it because it’s pretty.”

“Monarchs are poisonous, you know,” I told her.

“No,” she said sipping her tea. “I had no idea. Pretty and poisonous. Sounds like a lot of the girls I’ve met since I came here.”

I laughed despite myself, then immediately regretted it as I realized it probably wasn’t the kind of thing Aurora would have done.

It doesn’t matter,
a voice in my head reminded me. Reggie didn’t know Aurora. Maybe it was that, the fact that I didn’t have to worry about her, or the way we seemed to have so much in common, but I realized I liked her.

She put her tea down. “That’s the other reason why I came over to your table. Not just to apologize but—I could use some cool friends. And you seem cool. I know it’s weird with me dating your ex-boyfriend, but just, you know, think about it.”

“I don’t think Colin would like it,” I said with real regret.

“That’s okay. I’m not crazy about some of his friends.”

“Okay,” I nodded. “I will.”

She glanced at her watch and put the lid on her cup. “I’ve got to go if I’m going to make my bus. It was nice running into you.” She reached around in her purse and came out with a pen and a paper. “This is
my number. Call me if you want to do anything. Really. Even grocery shopping. I don’t want to sound desperate, but I’m desperate.”

I took the paper she passed me, glanced at it long enough to see she’d written, “Good for one Warm Beverage. Call me!” and slipped it into my pocket. I doubted I would have time to call her, or that Bridgette would let me, but somehow the prospect of having a friend—a connection, a lifeline—who had nothing to do with the Silvertons or Liza or Coralee or any other part of that world was appealing. Safe.

The cinnamony scent of her tea was still lingering in the air when my phone rang. I didn’t even look at the caller ID. As I answered, I realized I’d been waiting for this.

“Why… been ignoring me,” Liza’s voice said when I answered. She sounded plaintive. “Who is more… important?”

“I’m done playing games with you. Did you cause the accident today?”

“You didn’t answer… I had to get… your attention somehow… no one hurt.”

“Are you kidding? You almost killed three people.”

“You… just have a Band-Aid… on… your calf.”

I stared at the phone. “And Stuart’s hands? Did you do that?”

Liza laughed. “Made him pay… what he did to you.”

“I didn’t want you to do that.”

“What friends… are for.”

“You can’t pretend you did any of this to help me.”

“Of course… I love you… RoRo. No one… will ever love you like… me.”

“Stop it. Stop saying that, stop calling, stop trying to help me. If you know something, go to the police, otherwise—”

“For you, Ro-ro. For… your own… good. Everything I… do.”

“I don’t want you to do that, and I don’t need you.”

“Why can’t you… believe me? I’m… best friend.”

“No, you’re not. You’re just someone making a cheap joke. I’m not answering the phone anymore for you.”

“Don’t say that… Ro-ro, don’t… ignore me. You’ll be sorry.”

“Goodbye.” I hung up. It was only as I was gathering up my cup and the folder that I remembered what she’d said at the beginning of the conversation.
You just have a Band-Aid on your calf.

How could she know that?

M
y phone buzzed again. Unknown number. “Are you here?” I demanded. “Can you see me?”

“No. Can you see me?” a female voice, not Liza’s, asked.

“Who is this?”

“Who is this? I’m looking for Aurora Silverton. Is this the right number?”

“This is Aurora.”

“It’s Xandra, Xandra Michaels? Calling from London. You left a message for me a few days ago?”

She had the fake British accent and cadence that Americans with comfortable savings accounts get when they’ve been in England for more than five days. “Thanks for calling back. I’m trying to fill in the blanks in my memory about what happened the night of the party, and I was wondering if you could tell me what you remember.”

“It was three years ago,” she said.

“I know. Believe me. What would be great is if you remembered the last time you saw Liza or, um, me.”

“It was when I let you out of that ridiculous wine cellar Bain
excavated for the house. ‘A Southwestern
Cave’,
he called it. Too absurd.”

So that was where Liza and I had disappeared to when Roscoe went to get his jacket. A wine cellar. “Do you know how we got in there?”

“No, but you were a bit loopy when I found you. I got the impression there might have been something extra in your drinks. Or you’d been helping yourself to Bain’s wine.”

“How did you find us?”

“You were making quite a racket. I’m not sure what would have happened if I hadn’t come along. You were at each other’s throats.”

“We were arguing?”

“I meant that literally. As in you tried to strangle Lizabeth.”

“Why? What were we fighting about?”

“About a guy of course. Your boyfriend was texting Liza to come meet him. She said the texts were really for you, but you were livid. You asked me what I would do, and I said I would positively confront him. So you did. You marched out like a little soldier going off to battle.” I heard her say, “
Oh, pardon,”
to someone in the background and then to me, “Does that help?”

“Do you remember what I was wearing?”

“A dress or something?”

“Could it have been a coat? A trench coat?”

“No no. Then you and your friend would have been twins.”

“Liza was wearing a trench coat?”

“Yeah. Look, I’ve got to run. Send my love to everyone there.”

After she hung up, I spent a moment putting this new piece into the puzzle of that night. Picturing it as though I’d been there. Being trapped in a dark cellar with Liza, the light of her phone illuminating her face. Jealousy, as I think that Colin is texting her. Fighting until the door opens and Xandra lets us out.

Marching off to meet Colin.