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But then, I’m sure you already knew that. You strike me as a girl who knows her worth.
To be honest, I’m not sure I fully believed I was a Darnell until I met you. Your grandmother certainly resembled me physically, but we were miles apart spiritually.You,though, Miss Caity.
You’re a girl after my own heart.
As I told you in that horrible diner you insisted we go to, it’s always been my dearest wish to somehow repay the Darnell family for their loss. Not that anyone ever could replace such a precious thing as a child, but I’ve longed to make amends for some time.
Camden helped with that, a bit. He’s such a sweet boy, the best I’ve ever known, and I’m sure you’ll agree.
But it wasn’t quite the same, was it? I could take from the McTavishes, but how to give to the Darnells?
And then you!
You fell into my lap with your strange phone call and your rather unsubtle hints at blackmail, and I suddenly understood why it couldn’t be your grandmother or even your mother who showed me the path to making things right.
It had to be you. You, and my Camden. Born in the same year, you know. In 1992. Just two months apart.
Fate, one might say!
Now, like I told you, Camden is being abitdifficult. I’d hoped he’d stay here in North Carolina, but he continues to insist on going to some college in California. Not even one of the nicer ones near the beach, either, but in San Bernardino. He’s just doing this to upset me, some kind of delayed rebellion, I assume, but fair warning, our plans may need to shift a bit. He’s coming to see me tomorrow evening, though, and I think I have just the thing to make sure he’s right where we need him when you’re ready to make the drive up here.
You’ll need to be subtle, I should warn you. Camden is naturally suspicious, and I’m afraid I may have only made that worse over the last few months. But I have faith in you, my darling!
My great-niece.
What a thing.
I think your idea of using another name is very smart, dear girl, and of course I can help with the paperwork. Julianne is a lovely middle name, so I agree, use that. And besides, you can go by Jules.
Ruby, jewel, do you see? Clever of us, isn’t it?
And thank you for your response to that packet of letters. It was a difficult thing, unpacking all of that after all this time, but you were right that night at the diner. (About the need for absolute truth between us,notthe hash browns. Smothered, covered, fluffed, buttered, I have no idea, I just know I couldn’t sleep that night from the heartburn.)
You’re a tough cookie, but you understood what I was telling you. You had compassion for me in spite of all of it.
And yes, I have heard that tale about the scorpion and the frog. The poor little frog agrees to carry the scorpion across the river, even though he worries that the scorpion will stinghim. The scorpion promises he won’t, but sure enough, he can’t resist, sinking them both beneath the water.
“Why did you do it?” the frog asks before he drowns. “Now we’ll both die.”
“Because it is my nature,” says the scorpion.
Yes, darling. If that’s the story that my confessions made you think of, I think you might understand all of us better than you know.
You’ll be good for Camden. He’ll be good for you.
And I will sleep well at night, knowing I’ve left Ashby House in the very best hands—the only hands—I could.
-R
September 3, 2013
Ruby,
Well, this is a first for me: writing a letter to a dead lady.
But honestly, I wasn’t sure what else to do. I guess this is the kind of thing normal girls would journal about, but when have I ever been a normal girl? When wereyou?
You can’t answer that, I know.
