AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Did she talk much about the Second World War?” I ask as we head back to Anne’s car.
“No. I asked her about it once because we were learning about the war in school. She told me she didn’t want to talk about it. All I know is she and her sister were living in England at the time.”
“What about your other grandparents? Were they living in England at the time, or here in the U.S.?”
“My grandparents on my father’s side lived in Portland. I never met my mother’s parents. They lived in England but died when she was a little girl. Auntie Iris raised her. What about your family? Where do they live?”
I inwardly groan. My curiosity to learn more about Iris caused me to forget I was opening myself up to questions I don’t want to think about. “They’re dead. Heart disease, cancer, car accidents. It all catches up with you eventually.” I wince at how cold that sounded. I don’t even know if any of that’s true. For all I know, I still have a father and another set of grandparents somewhere.
The only family I loved were my grandparents on my mother’s side. It’s hard to love parents who gave up on you before you were even born. At least Amelia won’t feel that way. Unless her adoptive parents tell her the truth—that she’s adopted—there’s no reason for her to ever believe her biological mother never loved her.
“I’m sorry.” The sad tilt of Anne’s mouth seems genuine.
Even though she’s saying she’s sorry I have no family, I pretend she’s telling me how sorry she is my own family—other than Granny and Grandpa—treated me that way.
“It’s okay. It’s been a while. I’ve made my peace with the loss.” I give Anne my standard crooked smile, but my self-consciousness about the scars slithers in again, and I let my smile slip away.
Anne drives me to a gardening center next. I purchase soil, seeds, and tiny containers for growing the seedlings. It’s almost 6:00 p.m. by the time she drops me off at home. I invite her to stay for dinner, but she declines. She has to finish packing for her trip.
“I have something for you, Jess.” She reaches behind her car seat and pulls out a small bag from one of the clothing stores we visited. “This is for you.”
She hands me the bag, and I open it. Inside is the pretty floral sundress.
“Th-thank you,” I managed to say past the knot of emotions clogging my throat. “You didn’t have to do that.” I can’t even tell her how much her gesture means to me, not unless I want to reveal the truth about my past.
Anne’s eyes search my face. I don’t know what she finds there, but her expression softens some more. And I know…I know on some rudimental level, she does understand how much the dress means to me.
“I know I didn’t have to buy it for you,” she says, smiling, “but I’m glad I did.”
13
JESSICA
March, Present Day
Maple Ridge
I poura can of corn chowder into a pan and set it on the stove. Fred Astaire sings “Steppin’ Out with My Baby” from the record player in the living room. The Iris in my head sings along while she fixes her dinner.
The doorbell rings, and a rush of adrenaline kicks into action. My heart clambers into my throat and a tremor grips my body. Like it does every time someone rings the doorbell.
Fuckers.Will it always be this way? Will I always fear that whoever’s on the other side of the door is here to expose my secret? To let everyone know my shame?
It’s okay. It’s probably Dolores checking on me again.
The doorbell rings once more, and this time I manage to move my feet. After spending five years in a maximum-security prison, I thought I’d be a hard-ass. A fortress. Cold and unfeeling. But I’m just as scared of my shadow now as I was before I’d been incarcerated.
I check through the peephole. A tall man is standing on the stoop, his features obscured in the dark shadow. But even then I recognize him.Troy? What the fuckers?
I click on the outside light and unlock the front door. “Hi?” An urge to study my feet nudges me so he can’t see the scar by my mouth.
“Hey. I came to see how your hand’s doing.” A friendly, easygoing smile stretches across Troy’s face.
“It’s much better, thanks. You didn’t need to come by. It wasn’t that big of a deal. It was only a tiny scratch.” I don’t invite him in. But I move back a half step into the shadows so my face is less noticeable. Not that it matters. He’s already seen the scars. But I don’t need him quizzing me on how I got them.
The smile is still on Troy’s face. “It was more than a tiny scratch.”
“I survived, so no biggie.” I lift my hand so he can see for himself the cut on my palm from a week ago is healed.
