The Escape Collection: (The Escape Collection) (69 page)

“C’mon, Becca. What happened?”

I let out a deep breath and spoke as calmly as I could manage. “Dylan, all I’ve had for years is non-stop tantrums and attitude from children who don't appreciate my existence, a closet full of clothes that don’t fit, a workaholic husband who’s never home, a father who can't remember who I am, a brother who can’t be bothered to visit, and a best friend whose life is so goddamned easy and free, that every time I talk to her, I feel a little bit more like a failure. That’s my life. That’s what my days are filled with. So—perfect? I don’t think so.” I shoved my chair back and stood, staring out the window. “But here,” I continued, “here I can just be me, and figure out who that really is. For so long I’ve been trying to keep everything together. It’s exhausting keeping up the act. But now, right now, it’s just about me. And I think I like that.”
 

“I had no idea,” Dylan said after a moment.
 

“Of course you didn't.”

“I'm sorry.” He came up beside me. “But this Jason, he’s not the answer, Becca. Doing this to Jon—”

“I’m not doing anything to Jon. I’m doing this for me.”

“But that’s why, right?” His voice was gentle, but his words bit into me. “Because it’s your way out, your point of no return.”
 

“My point of no return,” I repeated the words under my breath and as I spoke, I knew there was a spark of truth in what he said. Jon would never forgive an affair. Was that what Jason was? My way out?
 

I let my eyes drift over the meadow, around the tree line to the break in the woods where the path to Prince's Pond lay. The past few days rolled through my mind.
 

“Are you happy now?” he asked. “Are you happy here?”

My memories returned to each moment with Jason, my drawings and paintings, Sheena, the phone calls with Jon, missing the girls. Finally, I turned and looked my brother in the eyes. “I don't know,” I answered truthfully. “I can't explain it, Dylan, but I just don't know.”

Chapter 23

“Come on. Let’s go out before it rains,” Dylan said as soon as I emerged from the bedroom. A shower and a clean set of clothes had refreshed me, but the time alone hadn’t given me anymore clarity into his question.
 

Was I happy here? Could I leave everything behind? What about Kayla and Jordan? Could I fix things with Jon? Did I even want to? The questions circulating through my brain were making my head throb. Fresh air would be good.
 

“Sounds like a plan.” I slipped on my shoes.
 

The clouds had settled thick into the valley, heavy with the promised rain. The air had grown even cooler, which offered a welcome respite from the heat of the last few days.
 

“Do you mind if we go for a walk?” Dylan asked. “I’d kind of like to see the pond. I don’t know when I’ll get another chance.”

“Sure.” I followed him across the field. Dylan didn’t seem to have any trouble picking out the break in the tree line. “How long do you plan on staying?” I asked his back.

“I can’t stay long. I’ll stop in and see Dad and Connie in the city before I fly out, but I should get back to work in a few days.”

“Ah yes, the fast-paced life of a travel writer. Where are you off to next? Somewhere much more exotic than this, I presume?” I looked down at my feet as we walked. “You know, Dylan, you could think about settling down and finding a wife, having a family.”
 

He laughed and spun around. “’Cause that’s working out so well for you?”

“Low blow.” I frowned and looked down at my feet.

“It was. I’m sorry.” He smiled apologetically. “Really, I haven’t seen a whole lot of relationships work out. I’m not in a big hurry. Besides, we’re here to talk about you. Come on.”

He took my hand and led me down the path.
 

We didn’t say another word until we reached the lake. “Well?” I asked him. “What do you think?”
 

“I think it’s been way too long since I’ve been here.” He turned to face me; a smile lit up his face and his eyes sparkled. “Becca, I grew up here. This was my backyard. I swam all summer and skated all winter.”

“It is great.” I didn't want to ruin the light moment we were sharing, but there were still so many things I didn't know. “Why didn’t you come back? If this was so important to you, such an amazing place, why didn’t I ever hear about it? How did I go my whole life not even knowing that Rainbow Valley existed?” The questions spilled from me. “I have so many questions. And I need answers, Dylan.”

The smile slid off his face and the light in his eyes dimmed. He sat on a large flat rock that jutted into the water. “I know you do. And I promise I’ll do my best to answer them. But first let me talk and then you can ask me anything you need to.”

I nodded and sat next to him, letting my feet splash in the water.
 

“I probably should have told you about all of this years ago,” he said. “I used to try, but when we moved, Mom would get so sad every time I asked about it, and then Dad would get upset, so I stopped. By the time you were old enough to talk about it and understand, our old life was never mentioned. Do you remember how Mom would go away once in a while?”

I shook my head. “Not really.”

“Well, she would,” he said. “First she’d get ‘sick’ and start sleeping a lot during the day. Then the next thing we knew, she was gone. Dad always said she was going to visit friends. She was coming here.”

“Here?”
 

Dylan nodded. “Dad would send her here to try and cheer her up.”

I moved my feet back and forth, letting the cool water slide over my feet. “I didn’t realize she was so unhappy.”

“Becca,” Dylan said. His voice changed and I looked up at him. “It was more than that. I know you were just little and you probably don’t remember very well, but Mom hated living in the city. She was a totally different person after we moved there.”

I didn't remember. She was my mom and the little I did recall was magical. Like when we made sun tea on a hot summer day, or went to hunt for the perfect rocks to paint and turn into pets, since Dad wouldn't let me have a dog.

“Why did we move?” I asked after a minute. “I mean, why leave this place if it made Mom so happy?” I turned away from him, and scanned my surroundings.

“I told you on the phone. Dad was trying to do the responsible thing. Everything was fine when it was just the three of us, but then you came along and when we got older, I guess he decided it was time to move to the city and get a real job, provide for his family.”

“So I was the reason?”

“Not entirely.” Dylan scraped up a handful of stones and began throwing them one by one into the water. “I was getting older, I needed more education. Home schooling was okay, but Dad wanted more for me, too. It was just time to go.”

“But Mom hated it.” I watched the ripples caused by the stones expand and grow larger until they disappeared. The air was thick with the heavy scent of ozone. The rain was coming closer.
 

“She did. Everything changed. I know Dad thought he could fix it by sending her back here for visits, but it just made it worse and then...” He drifted off.

“What?” I turned to him again. “Then it was too late? He couldn’t fix it because she died?”

“Well, yes.” Dylan’s voice was quiet. He stopped throwing the stones. “That’s what I need to talk to you about.”

“What?” My body went cold and a breath caught in my throat.

“You need to know the truth about Mom.”

 
I pulled my feet from the water and massaged them, trying to bring the heat back. I rubbed harder but the coldness persisted. Ice slid down my spine.
 

“Becca?” Dylan’s hand on my arm burned my icy skin but I couldn’t shake it off. “Mom didn’t die in a car crash. She wasn’t hit by a drunk driver.”

The ice crawled from my spine across my back. It circled around to my chest, squeezing tighter.

“I think I know the truth,” I said. It was a thought that had been building for the last few days. The more I learned about her, the more her death didn't make sense.

“You do?”

“She killed herself, didn't she?” I heard myself say. “She was so unhappy that she couldn't bear it, and she killed herself.”

The ice crept up my throat. Somewhere in the back of my head the familiar roaring began to build.

“Becca—”

“I know I'm right.”
 

Part of me had known. I’d always known. But to say it out loud—that was different.

“Becca?” My brother’s voice penetrated the ice and battled with the building storm in my brain.
 

“How?”

“That’s what I need to tell you,” Dylan said. “Mom didn't kill herself. She's not dead.”

I shook my head. “What?” The roaring increased. I hadn't heard him correctly. “What did you say?”

“At least, I don't think she is,” he said. “The truth is, I don't know. But she didn't die in a car accident. She left us, Becca.”

“She left?” I hadn't heard right. I couldn't have.

“She hated her life. She hated the city. Everything. I don't think anybody knew how unhappy she was, maybe not even her. And then one day, she was gone.”

“What do you mean—gone?” My brain spun and twisted. None of it made sense.
 

“She was really sad,” he said. “Worse than usual, so Dad told her to go to the cabin for a visit. He told her to find her spirit again. At first when she didn't come home, we thought she’d stayed for a few extra days. Finally Dad came to get her, but she was gone. There was just a note telling him that she couldn't do it anymore. She couldn't take one more minute. That was it.”

“Where is she, then?”

“I don't know. Dad kept the house here, renting it out, just in case she came back. She never did.”

“You told me she died. You all told me she died.”

He threw a large stone, heaving it farther than the rest into the middle of the lake. I watched the ripples, focusing on the spreading rings traveling the water’s surface.
 

“Dad thought it would be easier for you than to think she'd left you.”

“Why now?” My voice didn’t sound like my own. “Why tell me now?”

“I should have told you years ago. Dad should have. It wasn’t right, I know. But you were just a kid. We didn’t want you to blame yourself, or have that stigma. That's why we moved again. Dad didn't want us growing up with people knowing our mother had abandoned us.” He gently turned me to face him on the rock. “I’m telling you now because you are so much like her. You’re so unhappy.”

“I’m not.”

“Becca.” The sharp edge in his voice cut through the fuzz in my brain. “Look at you. What are you doing? You ran away from your husband, your children. You can’t tell me you’re happy.”

“I am now.”

“No.” Dylan’s voice softened again. “Becca, you’re not.”

The sky rumbled above, and at the same moment, I felt the first drops hit the side of my face and roll down my cheek.
 

“I think you’re lost. Just like Mom was. I think you—”

I yanked away from him and pulled myself to my feet. “I’m not her.”

“Don't let history repeat itself.” He rose to face me.

The rain started falling harder and it didn’t take long for it to soak through my thin clothes. I stared into the water, the surface broken and churned by the constant hammering of drops.

“Where is she?” I asked the water. “I need to know why she left. I need to know where she is.”

“I told you, we don't know.”

You’re Vicki’s girl. It’s the gray aura. Just like your mother. Sheena’s voice came back to me.

“But someone does,” I said. “Sheena.”
 

 
“I don't know Sheena,” Dylan said.
 

“She knows.” As soon as I said it, I was sure. Sheena knew more than she'd told me.
 

The roaring in my head competed with the howling wind and sharp claps of thunder overhead as the storm took hold. I struggled to maintain one coherent thought. “She knows,” I said again.

“Becca—”

“No,” I yelled at Dylan and pushed past him, almost knocking him into the lake in my hurry to go.
 

I didn’t bother to grab my shoes before I turned and ran through the woods. Rain pelted my face, stinging my skin. My bare feet splashed through the mud. Sticks and rocks cut my soles as I ran. I barely noticed. Dylan’s voice calling after me faded into the growing storm as I ran. I needed to see Sheena. I needed the truth.
 

I pushed my way through the brush, letting the branches snap, tear at my clothes and slap me in the face. The short path seemed to go on indefinitely as I thrashed through the brush. Maybe I got lost. I don't know. The rumbling thunder in the skies paired with the roaring in my head to create a wild symphony that threatened to take over my consciousness, but I kept moving. Eventually, I emerged in the meadow. Without the protection of the trees, I was exposed and the rain fell harder. Like pebbles on my skin, each drop hit with a stinging force.
 

I took a few fumbling steps and stumbled in the tall grass and flowers, where I fell to my knees.

“Becca?”

“You didn't tell me. All this time and you let me believe a lie. And Dad, too. What about Connie? Did everyone know but me?”

Rain streaked down my face and I swiped at the drops, trying in vain to clear my vision.

“I'm sorry, Becca, I am. It was wrong and if I could take it back, I would.” He wiped at my cheeks. “Don’t cry.”
 

“Cry?” Anger fueled me again. “I don’t cry, Dylan.” I shook his hands off and pushed up to my feet. I faced him. “There’s something wrong with me and you know what—there was with her, too. She didn't cry either. Did you know that, too, and not tell me?”
 

“Calm down.” He reached for my arm but I pulled away. “Let’s go inside. We’re getting soaked.”

“You don’t get it, Dylan. You knew. You all knew this awful secret about me. I don't care if you were trying to protect me. This whole thing—it’s shaped me. My whole life. It's who I am, but you never said anything. You just watched me self-destruct. I left my family. Oh, God. I left the girls.” My chest twisted in pain; the guilt almost dropped me to my knees again. “Jordan. Kayla.”