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“Every few years, a local paper does a story about it. Even though people were certain she ran away, they both went missing as teenagers and someone drums up the idea that something more nefarious happened. They use their senior high school photos, and it’s definitely them.”
He stoops to fish another framed photo from the bin. It’s my mom and the same three boys, along with several other classmates. They’re older, and this time I can see the resemblance of the man I knew as my father. His hair is still that sandy blonde color, but the face is more like the man I knew and the realization strikes me like a hammer: he dyed his hair to change his appearance. My mom had the same thick, wild hair I do, but she cut it short and wore it in a pixie cut, despite my many attempts to shame her into growing out her mane. It was all part of the concealment of their identities.
I take a few more moments to absorb it all. “So when you said people were upset, that they felt betrayed by their own family, you meant that about Amber’s father and the other guy, Elliot, right?”
Milo nods. “Yes. I can only imagine what it was like for Amber and the Wesley twins growing up. We heard the story so much we could recite it in our sleep, and our parents weren’t even that close to your mom and dad. It was a tremendous scandal for a small town.”
“I just don’t get it. You mean to tell me that teenagers in love never run off from this place?”
“It’s not exactly that,” Landon interjects. “It’s more about the fact that she was Lilliana Harridan. People expected a lot of her. The Harridans have been a feature of this town since before they built it; she wasn’t just any teenager in love. It’s more like the equivalent of someone from the royal family in England just disappearing and never being heard from again. Well, except for the whole ‘royalty’ thing. But if you haven’t figured it out, the Harridans are kind of like royalty here.”
I snort. “That doesn’t seem to have done me any favors with people like Amber.”
“I’m sorry, that’s not really your fault. But I think your mom running away kind of created a fracture in the town that didn’t exist before. Most people here love and support the Harridan family for everything they’ve done and continue to do for the community. But there are some, like Amber’s family, who feel differently.”
“So that’s why she hates me? Because I’m a Harridan?” Just when I thought I was so fortunate to find out who I really am, it looks more and more like a curse.
“Sort of,” Jared answers. “Amber’s family, and a few others, feel the level of deference the rest of the town gives your family is… undeserved.”
“It’s not really anything to be too concerned about,” Milo jumps in with a pointed glance at the other two. “Just know that there are some feuds in every small town, and that hostility isn’t all your fault. It’s hard to change someone’s mind about something they’ve been taught since birth.”
“And that’s what, that my family is crap because my mom ran away as a teenager? Who holds that kind of grudge?”
“It was more about Amber’s dad, and how he felt about your mom,” Landon answers gently. “It’s pretty well known that he and Elliot Wesley were both in love with her. And she chose your father instead of them. They never got over it. Imagine being the woman he married, and finding out he still pines for his high school love? Imagine being Amber, growing up in that environment? It’s a whole mess, and I’m not trying to make excuses for her, but I just thought you should know there’s another side to the story.”
Despite their candor, I can still feel there’s something they aren’t telling me. I glance down at the photo one more time. The guys huddle protectively around my teenage mom, isolating her even from the other kids in the group who were clearly friends. The smile on her face is forced. I can see that now. She holds a notebook in one hand, and the other, almost concealed by her billowy skirt, clutches my father’s.
Is this why you ran away?I wonder.To escape the unwanted love of your two best friends?
Or is there even more to the story?
ChapterThirteen
Layla
* * *
This time, I’m certain I scream myself awake.
I hear my own voice, feel the fire of exertion in my throat as I sit up, panting. Once again, I’m soaked with sweat. Once again, the house is eery and quiet. I listen for less than a minute before I hear the baying of wolves outside.
Even though I throw back the covers and dart to the window, I don’t see the animals on the property. It sounds as if they’re right outside my window, but nothing moves in shadows below.
After stripping off my damp pajamas and pulling on a fresh pair, I grab a drink and head back to bed. It’s almost become a ritual now: I wake, change, then contemplate the latest dream/nightmare while my heart rate slows.
This time I was once again a wolf, and my companions were clearly distinguishable as wolf-versions of Milo, Landon, and Jared. We were running with the pack, and the entire dream was saturated with a feeling of belonging. My heart felt whole and happy. There were a few wolves ahead, leading, and the rest of the pack stretched out behind us, following.
In an instant, the feeling of the dream went from contentment to fear. The leaders picked up speed and no matter how I tried, I couldn’t keep up. My legs worked faster and faster, my lungs threatening to explode in my chest, and they still disappeared into the night.
When I slowed and gave up, I realized I’d lost my companions, as well as the rest of the pack. Wolf-Layla whined softly, spinning on her padded feet, searching for anyone else.
But now I was alone, lost in the dark. I sniffed at the ground, trying to figure out if I should continue forward to catch the leaders, or turn back to rejoin the pack I’d left behind. The growls hit my ears a split second before their faces appeared in the darkness. Three wolves, their eyes gleaming, appeared in the underbrush on one side of the trail. With a snarl, they leapt for me and I scarcely had time to scream before I woke.
It is so bizarre. The dreams are so vivid, and while I can justify the subject given the nightly wolf calls and mountainous setting, I just can’t understand why I’ve never had a single dream like this before moving to Smoky Falls. Sure, I’ve had nightmares. As a kid, I had them all the time. After my parents died and I ended up in foster care, I rarely slept hard enough to dream.
So perhaps that’s it, then. I am finally to a place where I sleep, deeply enough to dream, and now I just have to get used to dreaming again. I wish it wasn’t always heart-pounding, creepy-forest wolf dreams, but perhaps I need to count myself lucky that along with a home, and family, and new friends, I’ve found myself able to dream again.
I settle back into my bed as drowsiness washes over me, and drop into a deep, restful sleep.
