Girl Lost (9 page)

Orchid bangs into our room, her face a mess of fury. I hold my breath. She's been growing steadily angrier as the week progressed, so I finally decide to broach the subject. "Is everything ok with James?"

She frowns, pulling a garment bag from the back of her closet. "Of course. Why do you ask?"

I shrug, typing a few more words before I hit save and twist to face her.

"You were fighting with him the other night. And you've been on edge. I thought maybe he had done something wrong."

She waves a hand. "James and I aren't serious—and I'm not upset with him."

"Then what's wrong?"

Her expression darkens further as she pulls on a loose pair of business slacks and a Chinese style silk top. A pattern of flowers repeats itself down the side, curling around one hip. She pulls her hair back into a severe bun and secures it with a jade pin.

"My father is coming today," she says simply.

I want to ask why that's bad, but the anger in her face warns me that it wouldn't be a good idea, so I merely bob my head and give her a final smile. "You look good," I say. She does, even if it's not something she'd ever be caught dead in.

She grimaces.

My phone chirps again, and I finally glance at it.

Micah: They'll be here in five. Come down.

Orchid pauses from lining her eyes with a pencil to glance at me. "Are you going?"

"Yeah. Aunt J is downstairs, and Micah is summoning me."

"Have fun," she says, and I can tell from the slight flicker of warmth in her eyes that she means it. I nod again, and she goes back to her makeup.

The campus is alive with students and parents. I want to sit down somewhere and soak it all up, but I keep myself in check—twirling around the Green like a mad woman might be frowned upon during parents’ weekend.

Micah is sitting on a bench a little ways away from my dorm. I meander my way over and sit down next to him.

We're quiet, watching a red-haired freshman girl go by, holding a woman's arm as she talks animatedly about her classes.

"I miss them," Micah says softly.

I am not as startled as I expect to be. Micah doesn't talk about our parents often, but I know him well enough to know he thinks about them all the time.

"I do too."

He glances at me, and I see the question forming on his lips. I hold my breath, wondering if he'll actually ask—he never has.

Neither he nor Aunt J has ever demanded answers about that fateful boat ride. I don't know if it's because they know I can't tell them anything or if it's because they are terrified to hear what I would say.

"Gwendolyn!"

My head jerks up, and I grin.

Grayson is a tall man, a bit heavy, but attractive with an infectious smile. I shout his name and run the few steps it takes to throw myself in his arms. He laughs as he catches me in a hug, and I inhale the scent that always clings to him—dust and ash and ink. Grayson never embraced technology as a way to make notes about his clients. He believes strongly in the wonders of paper.

Behind me, I hear Micah approach and greet Aunt J. She responds with a warmth that I rarely hear in her voice.

I try not to be jealous. Aunt J tried to get close to me, a task made more difficult because I wasn't playing with a full deck and because I was furious. She was left with two children, one devastated and alone, one so crazy people thought I was dangerous. It was hard for her, to be jerked from a single life to being a mother of two.

And with me in Pembrooke so often, it wasn't that surprising that she bonded with Micah. I don't mind—not really—but sometimes it stings to see the evidence of their closeness. Not because I begrudge it of them, but because I’m so damn lonely.

Insanity is a very lonely place to be. Even with the company of my delusions.

Grayson pulls back from me, his face crinkled in worry. I force a smile. He matches it, but neither of us means it. Grayson has been calling me on my bullshit long enough for me to know he's not buying my act.

I step out of his embrace and smile at Aunt J. She doesn't pick up on the falseness of it, and I try to keep my shit together.

"You look good, Gwen."

I flush. "Thanks."

She smiles, and I see the echoes of our father in her face. Softer in the face, harder in the eyes, with longer hair and impeccable style, she can never be seen as anything but a Barrie.

"Do you want a tour?" Micah says. I swallow my sigh—I need him to take the lead. Aunt J nods agreeably, and I trail behind her and Micah as he leads the way through the campus.

Northern isn't so large that the tour will take long, but, for the moment, Aunt J's attention is on Micah, so I am not being scrutinized.

"So which one is yours?" Grayson says, looking around at the students milling around with their parents. I flush. "I want to see who captured your attention, crazy girl."

I give him a look, and he grins, unabashed. Grayson has never had a problem calling me on my slippery grasp on sanity.

"I told you I don't have a boyfriend," I say, exasperated.

"Then why is that boy walking toward us like he wants to be introduced?"

I pale, whipping around. For a wild moment, I have no idea who he's talking about—Peter is nowhere around. And then I see Lane, smiling as he strolls up with two men who can only be his brothers.

"Gwen Barrie, can I introduce you to my brothers, Lewis and Lake."

I am acutely aware of the three people standing behind me as I smile and shake hands with Lewis. Lake laughs when I offer him my hand and pulls me into a hug. "Lane won't shut the hell up about you, and now that I've met you, I can see why," he says, and I laugh, blushing.

"What are y'all up to?" Lane says, after smacking his brother on the head. His gaze darts behind me in a not-so-subtle request for an introduction.

My heart jerks into my throat—how do I introduce Grayson when I don't want anyone to know what he is to me? Especially Lane.

"Um." I glance at Micah, and Grayson jumps in.

"I'm Dan Grayson. I work for Barrie Enterprise—I've known Gwen and Micah since they were kids." He smiles as he lies through his teeth.

Although what he's saying is strictly true, even if it doesn't hint at what he really is to our family—to me.

"And this is my guardian, Aunt Jane."

Behind me, Jane murmurs something soft and cool. I can only imagine that her expression has gone slightly distant and frosty.

She is exceptionally good at being distant and frosty.

"This is Lane Peterson, my friend," I say.

There is something tense about the silence that follows, and I see the wordless glance Lane's brother's exchange. Lane speaks first, while I'm still trying to puzzle through the tension. "We're headed to dinner. I'll see you later, Gwen Barrie."

I nod, and he walks a few steps backward until I give a tiny wave. His face shutters, and he turns away abruptly.

"I did something wrong," I murmur to myself. Grayson, at my side, makes a softly sympathetic noise. "What did I do wrong?" I ask.

"You called him a friend, darling."

Since that makes absolutely no sense, but I can't argue, I follow him as Micah leads us back to my dorm hall.

We decide, after minimal debate, to have dinner out.

Micah and I stay on campus—Grayson and Aunt J go check into their hotel—and make plans to meet them at a local steakhouse at five. It doesn't leave a lot of time—just enough to change and touch up my makeup before I hurry back downstairs. Whatever is going on with Orchid and her parents, it's happening somewhere other than our dorm room.

I hope it's a happy reunion and make a mental note to check in on her later. I need to tell her about James and the kiss—I just can't decide how to do that without ruining one of the few friendships I have here.

I can’t think about that right now, so I shove the thought aside and hurry downstairs to meet Micah.

He’s quiet on the drive, which makes me nervous. Usually he’s the one to fill the quiet spaces with needless chatter.

“Are you still mad at me?” I ask abruptly.

He glances at me from the corner of his eye and shakes his head. “No. I told you I wasn’t. I’m just worried, Gwen.”

“I don’t want you to worry about me all the time,” I say, almost sharply.

His expression turns bleak.

It’s too late.

I hear the unspoken words, and I hate them because they’re true.

“Let’s just enjoy dinner. I promise, Micah, I’m doing good. I’m healthy and sane.”

“Why did you introduce Lane as your friend?” he asks suddenly.

“What?”

“You’ve been out with him four times in a week. You went to a party with him. He sure as hell doesn’t think of you as a friend. So why did you introduce him as a friend, and not your boyfriend?”

“I didn’t realize it was that big of a deal,” I say, sitting back in my seat.

“I know you don’t. And that’s part of the issue, Gwen. You don’t have any idea how to live in the world because you’ve been isolated from it for so long.”

I flinch and he sighs. “That’s not an accusation, and I’m not upset, sis. It’s just the truth. I don’t know how to change it, and until we do, you’ll always be a little different—separate—from the rest of the world. And you can’t be healthy with that distance. It was distance that caused the problems in the first place.”

“It was watching our parents be murdered,” I snap.

Micah parks the car and turns off the engine. I can hear it ticking softly as it cools. “I know. That had its own effect. But being alone on that boat for three weeks didn’t help, sweetie. You need to be part of life to live it.”

I raise my chin in challenge. “I spent the majority of the last seven years in a mental institute. One Aunt J and you thought I should be in. Being isolated wasn’t exactly my choice.”

He stares at me, frustration clear in his bright blue eyes. Eyes we both inherited from Daddy. Micah looks like him, more and more each day. It makes it hard to be around him sometimes.

I wave a hand. “Let’s just go,” I say.

Micah catches my arm as I push the car door open, and I glance back at him. “I’m not the enemy, Gwen. I’m your brother. More than anything, I want for you to be safe and sane. You know that, right?”

I nod, and relief fills his eyes before I get out of the car.

Grayson and Aunt J are sitting on one side of the little booth, which is a little unusual. Typically, Micah sits with Aunt J and I have Grayson—it’s easier for him to whisper amusing nonsense in my ear when he’s sitting next to me.

Grayson is a big believer in laughter as a medicine and coping mechanism. It’s one of my favorite things about him.

But now, his eyes are subdued. I hesitate, a finger of unease tracing its way down my spine as Micah gestures for me to slide into the booth.

Trap
.

The mental whisper is ridiculous. These people are my family—or as close to it as I have—people who have nothing but my best interests at heart. It’s ridiculous to think they would be doing anything to hurt me.

I slip into the booth, and Micah sits next to me, neatly boxing me in.

“How long are you planning on staying?” Micah asks, directing the question at Aunt J.

“We’ll leave Sunday morning—before the brunch. I have a Board meeting on Sunday night that I’ll need to be in the city for.” Her gaze flicks to me, and I wait for her to ask me to Skype the meeting.

But she doesn’t.

It occurs to me suddenly that no one is looking at me—they are quite studiously ignoring me. They acknowledge me with half glances and they talk around me with vague questions. But it’s there, a cautious handling that makes me furious.

“What the hell is going on?” I ask.

Aunt J’s gaze snaps to mine, and Grayson sighs. “I told you this wasn’t the way to do it.”

“Do what?” I snap.

“It’s the only way—we can’t get her to tell the truth on her check-ins.”

“Would you quit acting like I’m not here?” I snarl. “If you have something to say, just fucking say it.”

Aunt J flinches, but her gaze meets mine, just as angry as I am.

I can always count on her to get angry and drop the kid gloves.

“You’re spiraling,” she snaps. “And you’re lying about it.”

“I’m not,” I protest. “I’m fine. Micah can tell you that I’m fine.” I glance at my brother for a backup. He looks away.

For a few seconds, I can’t believe it. I won’t believe it. Then I whisper, softly, “You bastard.”

He flinches. I smile, absurdly pleased.

“You went off your meds, Gwen,” he says, his voice low. “And you’ve been out rowing. Without me.”

“It was one day!” I protest shrilly. This can’t be happening. I refuse to lose control of my life because of one fucking day.

“If one day derails you, darling, you aren’t nearly ready for this,” Grayson says gently.

I shake my head, hard. It’s a fucking ambush. And a well done one, at that. I didn’t have a fucking clue. I’ve become entirely too trusting, if I didn’t see this shit coming.

“We’re worried. The Board is worried. You’ll be twenty one in two years, and you’re no closer to stability.”

My head is pounding. “What do you want to do?” I ask thickly, morbidly curious. Do they plan to ship me back to Pembrooke? Do they really think I’ll let them?”

Of course they do—I’ve always gone along with their plans. I’ve never fought Aunt J because I’ve always assumed that she was right. That I was batshit crazy and needed to be helped.

“I want you to come home,” she says. I stare at her, my lips ticking up into a cool smile. Her gaze falters, and then she rushes on. “I think you need the stability of being home. You need structure, and this doesn’t offer it.”

“I disagree. I have a pretty rigid schedule. Class and homework doesn’t leave much time for anything else,” I say.

“But you aren’t the best person to judge your own stability,” Micah says softly.

I flick a disgusted look at him. If I could move I’d have stormed out by now—probably why he boxed me.

Fuck. One day, I’m going to start listening to my damn intuition. It’s not that far off, despite the words and wisdom of my doctors.