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“I hate it,” Laura said. “Your mom always did, too.”
How could anyone not hate it? I was devising a plan in my head to mix the gooey fish with something else on my plate in hopes of disguising it and then not eating that thing. One bite of lutefisk was more than enough for me.
“I think that’s everything I have,” Aunt Laura said a few hours later as I closed the cover of a photo album.
“Thank you,” I said, my tears dry now but my emotions still welling.
We’d spent the past couple of hours looking through her albums, several of which contained the only childhood pictures I’d ever seen of my mom. Laura said they’d been a happy family, their dad an iron miner and their mom a teacher.
Everyone else was downstairs, so Laura, Harper, and I had the main level to ourselves. We were all curled up on an overstuffed sofa, a fire crackling in the fireplace.
“She loved Pete,” Laura said. “But I don’t think they ever slept together. They were waiting until after the wedding.”
My shoulders sank with relief. “Really?”
She put her hand over mine. “There were rumors about it after she left, of course. Dave came home from college for the wedding and told her he loved her. They eloped and got pregnant with you right away.”
“That must’ve been hard for Pete.”
Laura sighed softly. “He was devastated. Pete only ever had eyes for Amelia. But she wanted to leave the Beard and see the world, and so did Dave. The Chronicle was the Douglas family business, but Dave never wanted anything to do with it. Pete took it over because it was either that or our town would have lost its paper.”
“So my parents just left because they wanted to?”
I was right on the edge of the answer to one of the questions that had been plaguing me since I got here. Had my parents been forced to go, or had it been their choice?
Laura’s brow creased as she considered how to answer. “That was part of it, but also…” She shook her head and looked away. “Your mom wanted to protect you from all of this, but I think you deserve to know. It was a scandal in our little town, her leaving Pete like that the day before the wedding, and for his brother. It was hard for our parents.”
They’d left their hometowns, with devastated family members in their wake. I wasn’t ashamed of them for it, but I wasn’t proud, either.
“It was messy,” Laura said. “But Amelia and I always stayed in touch. She sent me pictures of you and I sent pictures of Harper and Ben.”
It hit me with sudden, crystal clarity—they hadn’t left because they wanted to, but because they had to. I couldn’t help hurting on their behalf. They’d been younger than me, and they’d had to leave their families, with no one to rely on but each other.
“Your parents wanted them to go, didn’t they?” I asked Laura.
She took my hand in hers. “Yes. And Dave’s parents did, too. They never forgave him, and neither did Pete. It’s funny—Pete was able to forgive Amelia but not his brother. Amelia sent him pictures of you. In his own way, Pete eventually moved on. He found happiness in other things.”
Harper put an arm around me and leaned her head on my shoulder. She was hearing most of this for the first time, too.
“Thanks for telling me,” I said to Laura.
“Of course.”
We sat in silence for a minute and then Harper said, “I think we should go for a walk.”
“A walk? It’s freezing outside,” I said.
She laughed and got up from the couch. “This is a nice day for Thanksgiving in the Beard. It’s not snowing. We’ll wear hats and gloves.”
I grumbled some more, but in the end, Harper and I left the house in borrowed hats, coats, scarves, and gloves from Don and Laura.
“We’ll walk to the lake,” she said. “Have you been to the lake yet?”
“Not yet. Not having a car here makes my world pretty small.”
“Didn’t Pete leave you his truck?”
“Yeah, but it has a flat tire. I need to get that fixed.”
She linked her arm through mine. “I could’ve given you a ride today.”
“You can give me a ride home if you want. Devon gave me a ride on the way since he was heading to his parents’ house.”
Karlsson Lake was on the edge of town, and it was apparently a hub for lots of activities. Fishing, cardboard boat races, and canoeing in the summer, and ice-skating in the winter. There were at least twenty people on the ice today, all spread out. Some were skating, and a few were shooting hockey pucks.
“Wait a minute.” I squinted at a man playing hockey with two boys. “Is that…?”
“It’s Ryan Grady,” Harper said. “He’s the police chief. Have you met him?”
