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I won’t say I understand that. I know there’s more to it, but Jacob had been even younger than me, and he’d accepted this story. I can’t ask my parents for more. They died in a hunting accident when Jacob was thirteen. That leaves me with adoptive parents who kidnapped and brainwashed me.
No, it leaves me with an adoptivefatherwho did that. And my mother? How much did Katherine Dalton know? I have no idea.
Do I write thembothoff? Or am I punishing Katherine for something she didn’t do?
I sure as hell can’t confront Gene and expect the truth. He’ll stick to the story he gave the council.
Is that the story he gave Katherine? They’d lost a child before coming to Rockton. I’d been the replacement, and as much as I rage at that, my adoptive mother had loved me for who I was, a boy very little like her lost child.
Do I ask her what storyshewas told? And if it’s the same one the council got, do I tell her that her husband kidnapped and brainwashed me? The husband she’s been with for fifty years, the man she has settled into blissfully happy retirement with?
If I care for my adoptive mother, which I do, then how the fuck do I do that to her?
I can’t see her—can’t even speak to her—until I know the truth. So I just keep hitting Ignore on her calls. It’s a fucked-up strategy, and I hate it, and I know I could ask Casey, but I want to work this out for myself. Casey has no idea I’m getting these calls, and that’s how it’ll stay until I’ve made my decision.
Yeah, the story of this couple who planned to run into the forest together reminds me of my birth parents, but I need to let itreallyremind me of them and only them. Forget the Daltons. Remember how my birth parents ran into the forest and how they were happy there—how I was happy there with them.
If I hope this other couple found the same, maybe that’s sentimental of me, but fuck it. Anyone who’d have a problem with me being a little sentimental isn’t someone whose opinion I give a shit about.
When we reach the spot, though...
Shit. I don’t like this. Don’t like it at all.
“Wow,” Casey says. “This is a gorgeous view.”
She calls Storm to heel before walking to the edge of the bluff.
She looks around. “Perfect picnic spot. I’m glad we found this.”
I make a noise that has her looking more carefully.
“It’s very open, isn’t it?” she says as she walks along the bluff’s edge with Storm at her side. “And there are a lot of old berry patches.” She glances at me. “Prime bear territory. Let’s just hope our runaway couple didn’t decide to meet here during berry season.”
I roll off my discomfort. “As long as they were careful, it’d be fine.”
“But even without the bears, it’s not a place you’d want to hang out in alone. Too open, and the cliff’s edge would be hard to see in the dark.” She glances my way. “I keep thinking about that note.”
“I know.”
“Not just the note, but the part about her lover going to hock her jewelry for camping supplies. What if it’s not the romantic story it seems?”
“What if he set her up? Convinced her to hand over her jewelry and meet him in the forest and run away with him? And then never showed up.”
She shoves her hands into her pockets. “I’d love to think no one would ever take advantage of a woman in an abusive situation, but I know better.”
“Yeah.” I walk beside her and look out at the ocean.
“I don’t mean to spoil lunch,” she says. “I still want the picnic. Whatever happened, there’s nothing I can do about it.”
I set down the basket and spread the blanket at a good spot where we can hear the waves crashing below.
“We can investigate,” I say. “The woman who wrote the note seemed to be a guest at the lodge. Thirty years might seem like a long time ago, but it’s been owned by the same people since the eighties. They live right down the road. We promised to take them some of the bread from the freezer. We can have our picnic, check in with the others and then grab some bread and pay a visit. Sound good?”
She smiles over at me, relaxing. “Sounds perfect.”
* * *
It’smidafternoon when we get back to the lodge, and everyone’s on afternoon break, drinking tea or coffee along with treats from the freezer. Yeah, tell me again how the bakery really isn’t a big deal.
