The Missing- Volume II- Lies (11 page)

“It smells like something died in here,” Maren chuckled, tapping her pencil on the paper.

I snickered and then shivered at her words.

Like something died.

“It’s quiet though. No one for miles,” I pointed out, nudging her leg with the tip of my shoe.

Maren peered at me from the corner of her eye. “Why does that make me a little nervous?” Her perfect, pretty lips quirked up in a slight smile.

I loved it when she teased. When she joked. When we played in this light, easy way with one another.

Quickly, I climbed on top of my oblivious love, straddling her. Maren stilled underneath me. I ran my hands through her hair. Her long, brown hair. “Are you scared I’m going to do something? Chop you up into little pieces, maybe? Hide you under the floorboards?” I laughed.

Maren’s smile faded a little, though I could see that she struggled to hold onto it. I pressed myself against her. I couldn’t help it. I wasn’t sure what had come over me. I wasn’t usually so forward. Not with Maren.

Maybe it was being here with her. Maybe it was the isolation and quiet.

Maybe it was the memory of smoke and fire.

I felt it deep inside and wished that she’d touch me. I wanted it more than the air that I breathed.

“Is that what you’re planning to do, Nora? Chop me up into little pieces?” Maren whispered, pitching her voice low.

I continued to run my hands through her hair and leaned close.

Kiss me . . .

We were so close. I could smell the mint on her breath from her gum. I could see the frantic rise and fall of her chest. I could feel the warmth between her legs against the most secret part of me.

“You’re crushing me, Nora,” she laughed and it sounded strained. She gave me a shove, moving me.

My heart collapsed in disappointment.

I got up and sat back down beside her, trying to calm my racing heart. We were silent for a long time, and I berated myself for my aggressiveness.

“So what’s so important about this place anyway? Why is it so special to you?” Maren asked, sounding like she was having trouble speaking. Her voice was rough and raw. “It looks like it should be condemned. Are you sure it’s safe to be here?”

Did I dare share my story? Of course I would. It was Maren. I would give her anything. Especially if she asked for it.

I thought of Bradley. He’d been so strange lately. I’d appreciated the effort he was making to spend time with Maren and me, but it bothered me as well.

Mostly because Maren’s attention was divided between us.

Bradley’s attention wasn’t entirely focused on me any longer.

That made me sound incredibly selfish, but it was hard for me to share things when I had never been given much to begin with.

“Nora?” Maren prompted when I didn’t answer her right away.

“My dad had a workshop here. He made saddles. Sometimes I’d come with him and watch him make them.”

Maren looked around. “Here in this room?” she asked.

I nodded and pointed to the far side. “I’d sit in that corner for hours. He didn’t talk to me much, but I just liked being here. It was better than being at home.”

Maren chewed on her bottom lip. “There’s more to that story, isn’t there?”

I clasped my hands in my lap, squeezing until it hurt. “Isn’t there always?” I responded lightly.

Maren began to write in her notebook, and I watched her draw music notes on the page.

“Tell me the story, Nora. I want to hear it,” she urged.

I wanted to sit closer to her but, after the earlier weirdness, I was scared to. I wanted an intimacy with Maren. I ached to be near her. To talk to her. To share things with her that I had only ever told Bradley.

He won’t like it.

I worried about Bradley and what he would think about my bringing Maren here.

But more than that, I wanted to give her everything that I had. Every ugly, horrible thing. Every sad story. Every dream. Every wish.

I trusted her to keep them safe.

“We all have things that are hard to talk about, Nora. But trust me when I say that it’s better to let it out than to keep it in.” She took my hand in hers and I could cry from the joy of it. “And I’d be honored if you share it with me. I’ll keep your secrets.” She made an
x
over her heart. “Promise.”

She didn’t drop my hand. She held it tightly. My palm between hers.

She made it look so easy to be honest and open. I wanted to be that way for her.

“There was a fire. My father died soon after that. I don’t talk about him much,” I said in a rush.

“I’m sorry, Nora,” Maren replied softly, squeezing my cold fingers.

“After the fire, my dad took everything out of his workshop and never made another saddle. Not that it mattered. Three months later, he was gone.”

I didn’t really want to talk about my dad or his death that I didn’t know much about. Maren seemed to pick up on that so she didn’t push.

“What caused the fire?” she asked.

I frowned, feeling a familiar anger.

“Rosie,” I murmured.

“Rosie?” Maren repeated. I hated the sound of her name on Maren’s lips. It was vile and filthy.

“My foster sister.” I dug my nails into Maren’s hand and she winced, pulling away.

Stupid, stupid Nora!

“She burned it. She lit the match. She spilled the gasoline. It was all her fault.”

“Why would she do that?” Maren asked, sounding horrified.

“Because she was jealous,” I spat out. “I was here with my dad and she had wanted to come. She didn’t like being left behind.”

Maren was chewing on her bottom lip again. “That seems like an extreme reaction to being left at home. She sounds crazy!”

“She was. The craziest, most awful person I have ever known.” I couldn’t think about Rosie without wanting to hurt. Myself. Someone else.

“What happened to her? Your foster sister?”

I smiled. A real, honest smile. “She went away. She couldn’t live with us any longer. Not after the fire.”

Maren was watching me and I liked it. I enjoyed her attention. “That made you happy, didn’t it?” she surmised.

“I was glad she wasn’t here anymore.”

Maren picked up her pen again and started scribbling more music notes in her notebook. “It sounds like you had every reason to be glad she was gone. What a horrible person.”

I nodded, glad that she agreed with me. “What about you? Tell me your stories,” I prompted her.

Maren laughed slightly and looked bashful. “There’s nothing much to tell. I don’t have anything interesting to share.”

I reached out and took her hand again, not caring that it made me look desperate and weak. Because with Maren I was all of those things and all I could do was embrace it.

“I don’t believe that for a minute, Maren. I bet you’ve experienced all sorts of interesting things.”

Maren shrugged. “Well, what do you want to know?”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Everything.”

Maren’s eyes met mine and we stared at each other for a long time. Neither of us saying a thing. I feared that she wouldn’t tell me anything. That I’d given her my secrets and I’d get nothing in return.

But then she gave me pieces and I was overjoyed.

“My mom died when I was little. I don’t really remember her. My dad moves around a lot for work so I’ve always had to make new friends. I actually really suck at meeting people. I feel all awkward and weird.”

“You? Awkward? Are you nuts? Have you met me?” I joked.

“Stop it, Nora. I hate it when you do that, make yourself sound bad.” I beamed at her censure.

“I almost didn’t come to Blackfield. I was . . . uh . . . seeing someone back in Dallas and he wanted me to stay. I thought about it.” She looked away from me and I felt the burn of jealousy.

I still held Maren’s hand in mine and I could feel her fluttering pulse beneath my thumb.

“We broke up though. It wasn’t pretty. So I came here with Dad. I didn’t want to stay there after that.”

I felt a wave of relief.

“Oh, well, that’s good.” I grinned at her. Maren gave me a strange look.

“It’s good that I had a messy breakup and moved back in with my father to escape it?” she asked, sounding bitter.

No!” I backtracked, feeling like a moron. “I just meant that it’s good you’re here. Otherwise we would never have met.”

Maren relaxed and nodded. “Yeah, that’s a good thing,” she agreed.

It was good.

“Tell me about Bradley. What’s his deal?” she asked out of the blue and I bristled at the question.

“Why are you so interested in Bradley?” I couldn’t help but sound irritated. Because I was.

“He’s an enigma. A puzzle. I like puzzles,” Maren mused. “One minute, he’s so angry. The next, he seems almost sad. Like something horrible has happened to him.”

I gritted my teeth together to stop myself from screaming. “We all have horrible things that happen to us,” I countered.

Maren nodded. “You’re right. But Bradley’s a tormented dude. I can feel it.”

My Bradley!

He was mine!

“I don’t think he’d want me to tell you anything,” I quipped sharply.

Maren looked contrite. “Of course not. I shouldn’t have asked you that. You’re friends. Of course it wouldn’t be right to talk about him behind his back.” She sighed. “I’m just a sucker for a lost cause.”

What about me?
I raged inside.

I’m lost too!

But I wouldn’t say that out loud. I’d sound even more pathetic than I already did.

“I shouldn’t have teased him the other day. I knew he was upset about us being together, so I messed with him. It wasn’t very nice. I feel like an ass.”

She stared down at the notebook in her lap, and I felt tense all over, as though she were getting ready to deliver a blow.

“But I’d like to get to know him. Do you think he’d let me?”

What was this? Was Maren serious? I felt horrible and sick and upset.

I didn’t know what to say.

I felt a flash of unreasonable hatred. Towards Bradley for being broken. Towards Maren for caring about his brokenness. Towards myself for giving my heart away to someone who seemed ready to crush it.

“I don’t know,” I muttered, full of so much
hate.

Maren must have heard the strange note in my voice. She looked up at me seeming concerned. “But right now, I’d rather spend my time with you, Nora.” She smiled and it erased everything. All the bad stuff. And I felt . . .
full.

“I’d like to spend time with you, too,” I told her. Did she hear the love in my voice? Did she see the passion in my eyes? Did she realize how much I wanted her?

Maren plucked a piece of hair from my shoulder and I swore her hand lingered.

I moved a little closer. I wouldn’t think about Bradley. Not here. Not with her.

“Okay, enough with the heavy stuff, why don’t we work on the song. Can you sing? Your words are so much better than mine. I could listen to you sing all day long,” Maren said, making me glow with her compliments.

She had a magical way of turning everything around. Of making me happy without really trying.

So I sang and sang.

Just for her.

The Past

Two And A Half Months Ago

“D
ear Heavenly Father, take this child into your arms. Bless her with your love. Show compassion to her struggling mother, who tries to find a way to love such an abomination. Heal this child and this family. Purge the evil from Nora Gilbert and wash away her sin. Cleanse her soul so that it is reflected on her skin.”

The bite of the cane cut me open.

Over and over.

I kept my head bowed. I took the beating. I pretended to pray. But I wasn’t. It was my silent act of defiance.

“You must be purged of your sin. To purge the sin, you must feel the pain of Christ’s sacrifice,” Reverend Miller droned on and on.