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Finley props a hand on her hip. “Yes way. We both screamed our heads off until Dad stalked in, grabbed the doll, and said—”
“I told you not to bring this thing home. Now we’re cursed,” I finish, imitating his gruff tone.
Finley touches the doll’s porcelain hand with a finger. “And then he ran out of the house with it, at a full sprint.”
Laughter bubbles out of me, making my eyes water.
Finley sniffs. “He told me later that he threw it in a bonfire.”
“And then,” I continue, “About six years later, I think I was about fourteen or fifteen—”
Jake barks out a laugh. “No. He didn’t.”
My fingers clench around the awful toy. “Oh, he did. I went to cabin six to listen to that old record player we had in there, and imagine my shock when I flicked on the lights and there she was. On the sofa, staring straight at me.”
Everyone laughs, even Taylor.
“What did you do?” Piper asks between giggles.
“I brought it to him. He was in the shed working on something with Piper, and I said, ‘What is this? I thought you got rid of it.’ He groaned in terror and said, ‘Oh no, not again,’ grabbed it out of my hands, and ran off with it.”
I can barely finish at this point, the laughter bursting out of me. My siblings are in equal bouts of hysterics.
“It’s so him,” Finley manages to get out.
“He really went the distance with that one,” Jake says, wiping at his eyes.
Finley tugs the doll from my grasp, her other hand squeezing my shoulder. “We’re putting this in the keep pile.”
We continue working through the room, but the mood is lighter. The silences, when they happen, are more comfortable, and we share some more of our finds, more of our memories.
Inevitably, my thoughts return to Luke. I left his bed early this morning, sneaking back to my room before anyone was the wiser.
It’s not like I’m trying to hide anything from my family, it’s just that I don’t want to complicate things. Not yet. I still have some lingering shame over what happened with Blake. Something else I need to work on.
“What are those? Letters? Who are they from?” Piper’s voice pulls me back into the moment.
Jake is sitting on the edge of the bed, and Piper is cross-legged on the floor next to him. The top drawer of the nightstand is open, and Jake is holding a large stack of envelopes, ragged around the edges and all bundled together with multiple rubber bands.
Taylor perches next to Jake, peering over his shoulder. “If they’re from Mom, I say we burn them.”
Finley snorts. “Mom writing us letters? She wouldn’t bother herself, trust me.”
“No return address.” Jake pries off the rubber bands, unfolding a letter written out on lined notebook paper.
His eyes scan down the page and then flip it over. “It’s from someone named . . . Ryan? No last name.”
“Ryan?” Piper scrunches her nose. “He never talked about anyone with that name.”
Taylor gasps. “Was he having an affair?”
Finley rolls her eyes. “With someone named Ryan?”
Taylor waves a hand. “You never know.”
Piper frowns. “Why wouldn’t he use email if it was something he wanted to hide?”
Taylor shrugs. “He was old-school.”
