The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4: Now We Know/What They Knew

by Rebecca Donovan

  The side of her mouth quirks. “The last time I saw that ring, it was on my husband’s finger.”

  “If I saw it there, I would have cut it off,” I respond flatly.

  “The ring or the finger?”

  I shrug with indifference. “Both.”

  She tilts her head back and cackles, causing me to blink in shock. “Oh, I like you.”

  “Lana? Are you up he—” My mother stops short when she finds us. “Cassandra? I didn’t expect you to be here this weekend.”

  Cassandra makes a production of rolling her eyes. “It is my house, Faye.”

  My mother twists her fingers around the thin gold links of the chain she always wears. A blush creeps along her cheeks. “Oh, it’s a beautiful house.”

  “You can’t have it. It never belonged to him.” And then she saunters away, her martini glass balanced high in her hand.

  My mother raises her eyes guiltily. I’m on the verge of combusting.

  “She’s Nick’s wife. What the hell are we doing here?” I yank the ring off my thumb and slam it down next to the photo on the dresser.

  How many more lives will she destroy with her lies?

  The message written on the back of the picture I received has finally taken on a meaning. One that makes my stomach sour as I watch my mother redden with shame.

  “Olivia assured me she wouldn’t be here. I didn’t know,” she replies in a rush. “And they’re not together. He left her about a year ago. But she refuses to divorce him. I had no idea until … well, that morning you found his ring.” She eyes it, sitting on the dresser. “I can’t believe you kept it!”

  “I can’t believe you had an affair with a married man! Is this the first time, or have you done it before?” I present myself with a flourish of my hand to insinuate that I could be the result.

  She blanches.

  I move past her, bubbling with anger, leaving her speechless in my wake. When I get to the bottom of the stairs, I’m a shaking mess, overcome with rampant thoughts and an onslaught of emotions. Not to mention, I’ve never raised my voice at my mother before. I have no idea what to—

  I come to an abrupt halt. Mr. Garner has just arrived with Lance. Olivia greets him enthusiastically, and he leans down to hug her. He spots me over her shoulder, and the color drains from his face. What the hell is going on?

  “Lana!” Lance exclaims, bypassing his mother and Mr. Garner to approach me. “Where have you been? I told you to let me know when my dad was picking you up so I could catch a ride.”

  “You did? When?” I ask, my eyes still trained on Mr. Garner as Niall shakes his hand and affectionately sets a palm on his shoulder. My hands continue to shake. Or maybe it’s my whole body now.

  “In the tree. I left a note yesterday,” he explains impatiently. “I also warned you that my aunt and uncle were going to be here, so you’d be prepared.”

  I scan the faces that are beginning to accumulate in the open living space now that my mother has descended the stairs. She walks over to hug Mr. Garner. I catch sight of Cassandra hovering by the bar with a fresh martini. But I don’t see Nick … or Kaden.

  “Which uncle?” I ask slowly.

  “Isaac,” Lance answers like it’s obvious. When he notices the dumbfounded look on my face, his mouth drops open. “You didn’t know? Isaac’s my uncle. He’s my dad’s brother. Technically half-brother. My grandmother remarried before I was born. But whatever.”

  “I think I need to sit down.” My voice has no fluctuation. I may seriously be in shock.

  That’s when the doorbell rings, and Grant appears on the other side.

  “Thank fuck.” I rush over and pull him through the small crowd before he has a chance to introduce himself. “I’m losing my mind.” Without caring who’s watching, I throw my arms around his chest and hug him.

  He wraps me in a hug without hesitating. When I look up at him, he’s smiling awkwardly, his attention directed behind me. I turn my head to find that all of the adults have stopped talking and are gawking at us.

  “Oh, this is Grant,” I tell them and then assertively lead him outside, away from everyone.

  He waves in apology as we exit. “Nice to meet you.”

  I clunk down on one of the benches by the firepit on the lower deck.

  “What’s going on?” Grant asks, tucking me under his arm. “You look like you’re hyperventilating.”

  I shake my head, at a loss, not knowing where to start.

  “I didn’t know you were going to be here.”

  The snarky voice coming from the other side of the firepit snags our attention. Lily glowers at Grant with her hands on her hips. Before he can utter a single word, she stomps away.

  “Oh, this is going to be fun.” Brendan sits down on a bench next to ours.

  He’s dressed impeccably in a pair of pressed charcoal pants, shiny black shoes and a fitted V-neck T-shirt—looking a little too pleased by my distress. I close my eyes and pray for the control to keep from kicking that smug look off his face. I’m on the verge of having a full breakdown, and homicide isn’t out of the question.

  Parker stands behind Brendan, holding a glass that looks like Coke but undoubtedly has something stronger added to it.

  “Nice. Everyone’s reunited,” I announce with a slight note of hysteria. “So, Parker, I know you and Brendan go way back. But tell me … how well do you know Ashton?”

  Brendan stiffens.

  “I don’t really,” Parker answers casually. “I met her a couple years ago at a club in New York.”

  “Right.” I nod dramatically, like I’m recollecting the details. “Brendan was with you the night you met her. Business aside, I didn’t realize you two were friends?”

  Lance sits on the bench on the other side of us. Having only caught the last of my words, he begins laughing. “Them? Friends?”

  Brendan and Parker exchange a look. Brendan’s hand curls around his pant leg while he wears a face of pompous amusement.

  “We’re … sort of … friends. He asked me to go. Not a big deal. Why are you asking?”

  I ignore Parker’s question. “And why did you want to attend a party where you knew no one?” I target Brendan. “A certain contact you wanted to connect with?”

  He glares at me in warning. “I think we should finish this conversation in private.” He stands just as Joey and Lincoln approach.

  “Hey, Lana,” Lincoln greets casually. Then he scans the group, picking up on the tension. “Not much has changed with you, huh?”

  “Not really,” I sigh, ducking out from under Grant’s arm. “I’ll be right back.”

  Grant wants to come with me. I can sense him beginning to rise.

  I stop him before he does. “It’ll be better if I do this alone.”

  He settles on the bench again. Joey and Lincoln occupy the seat Brendan vacated.

  I follow Brendan down to the private beach. Before he can speak, I need to explain, “Ashton told me about that night. What you did for her. And now I completely understand why you have this unbreakable bond. I do. Doesn’t mean I think you’re good for her. But that’s not what this is about.”

  “What is this about?” Brendan demands impatiently.

  “Why were you there that night? You didn’t give a shit about the party.” I study his eyes, impenetrable stone, then look down at his clenched fist. “Either you were stalking Ashton, or … you knew Morgan would be there.”

  Brendan closes his eyes, his jaw tensing “I knew he would be there.”

  “Why were you following him?”

  “Because of you. I thought he could tell me something that would help me find out more about you. But … once I realized what a piece of shit he was …” He doesn’t finish. His words gnashed between his teeth.

  “Doesn’t explain why you’re so obsessed with me. Do you really think I can help you understand why your mother chose to kill herself?”

  “Yes!” he yells, impassioned. “I do! Something happened, Lana. S
omething that ate away at her for pretty much my entire life. And it has to do with your mother. And maybe you. I need to know what that was!”

  His anger smothers my own. “Well, my mother’s here tonight,” I offer quietly. “Why don’t you ask her?”

  “I’ve already tried.” Brendan runs a hand through his hair. “I wrote your mother a letter right after she died, asking for her help to better understand my mother. What may have been haunting her. But she didn’t respond.”

  “She didn’t?” This surprises me.

  My mother has never been cruel. Emotionally distant where I was concerned. But never cruel.

  Brendan shakes his head. “And not long after, Niall appeared, telling me to let it go. That it was a tragedy and he was sorry. Then he pretty much inserted himself in my life and got me admitted to Blackwood.”

  “I’m confused. How would he have known about the letter? And didn’t you already know him?”

  “She had to have told him,” he answers with a hint of resentment. “As I told you, I knew his family from Nantucket. Parker and I formed a kind of partnership. And Niall helped me with a few legal issues after my mother died. He was my lawyer. That’s it. But after I sent the letter, he took over my life. It was different.”

  “Then why did you bring him to the hospital to see Ashton? You had to have trusted him.”

  He turns his back to face the lake, both hands shoved in his pockets. “I did. He’s a good lawyer. He made her story disappear, and I knew he could help protect her. I don’t know what kind of arrangement he has with Blackwood, but it seems to be his go-to school to hide clients from the world.”

  “Or hide the world from his clients,” I murmur, thinking of Ashton’s situation. But I have to wonder what else Niall has made go away. And because my mind is reeling, I blurt what was meant to stay in my head, “What else does Niall know?” I lean in and ask quietly, “Did you kill Morgan?”

  Brendan slowly turns around, keeping his hands in his pockets so I can’t read if what he’s about to tell me is the truth. “Does it matter?”

  I don’t respond for a second, attempting to see past the impenetrable fortress. Where he locks away his truths. But I only find my reflection staring back at me.

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “Lana!” Grant calls to me.

  “Be right there!” I yell back. Then I say calmly to Brendan, “I’ll talk to my mother. Even if she refuses to tell me, there has to be another way. We’ll find out what happened, okay?”

  Brendan nods, his hands still in his pockets. His eyes downcast, like he can’t afford for me to see any cracks in his wall, he walks past me toward the path to the house. Right after he disappears, Grant comes into view. He studies me.

  “Are you alright?”

  I nod.

  “They’ve asked us to sit for dinner.”

  “Did you talk to Lily?” I ask, taking his hand.

  “Not yet.”

  “Prepare yourself. She may never speak to either of us again after tonight.”

  “Why?” Grant asks like he’s afraid to know.

  “Lily’s father—or who she thinks is her father—was dating my mother for about six months. They ended things because we found out he was still married … on the worst day of my life.”

  Grant stops to look at me. “Are you serious?”

  “Yup,” I breathe out in regret. “This is gonna suck.”

  I fed him the lie. Made his love turn to hate. Abandoned you to your pain.

  Whoever came up with the saying, You could cut the tension with a knife, wasn’t sitting at this dinner table. This tension needs a chain saw.

  Niall takes the head of the table with Olivia to his left and Mr. … Isaac to his right. My mother sits between Olivia and Lincoln with Cassandra and Lily across from them. Parker and Lance follow beside Lily with Joey and Brendan opposite them, which forces Grant and me to sit facing each other since we were the last to arrive. Grant sacrifices himself and takes the seat next to Brendan while I scoot in my chair beside Lance.

  Candles in tall glass cylinders are clustered around the deck, and even though the sun hasn’t set, it adds elegance to the outdoor setting. As do the square vases of wildflowers that pepper the center of the table. Not to mention the servers dressed in long black bistro aprons coming out with plates.

  I scan the length of the table, trying to assess who’s going to start throwing insults—or plates—first. My bet is on Cassandra. She pours the contents of her martini glass down her throat as if it were water just as a server arrives with another. Olivia scowls at her without effect.

  My mother looks frail, straightening the silverware in front of her. The color from our day on the lake has drained away, leaving behind delicate, ghostly skin. Guilt twists like a knife, knowing I contributed to her wilting.

  I connect with Joey briefly. He offers a hint of a smile in recognition of how unstable this situation is. I skip over Brendan and search Grant’s face for reassurance. He smiles back like everything’s going to be fine. I appreciate the effort even though it’s obvious he’s completely faking it.

  “This looks wonderful,” Olivia announces a little too loudly when the small plate of linguini and shellfish is set in front of her.

  I examine it, never having eaten almost any of the squishy things mixed among the noodles. I mean, I’ve had them fried, but I’ve never had to actually see what they looked like before they’re coated and dropped in hot oil. I poke at a scallop with my fork. Someone coughs out a laugh, and I look up to find Brendan trying to conceal a chuckle. Maybe he won’t think I’m so funny when I fling one of these jiggly things across the table at him.

  I lean over and ask Lance, “What is this?”

  He checks out what I’m prodding and answers quietly, “Calamari. I know it looks gross, but it’s pretty good.”

  “Isn’t calamari squid?” I ask. I’m unable to keep the grimace from creasing my face when I lift the noodles with my fork to reveal the tentacles still attached to the gelatinous body.

  Lance nods. “Try it.”

  I don’t. I can’t. Not if I’m not expected to throw it back up.

  I eat around it the best I can. The lemon garlic herb sauce is pretty good with the pasta, but the texture of most of the shellfish feels like I’m chewing rubber. I choke down a scallop and shudder.

  Now Grant has his lips pressed together to keep from laughing.

  “What’s so funny?” Lily demands, unable to see me.

  This causes the half of the table who can see me to break out in laughter.

  I push my plate away, having entertained them enough. I look toward the adults, and Olivia gives me a you-tried shrug while Niall focuses on his plate, shaking his head, probably to conceal an eye roll.

  “You’ve lived a sheltered life, haven’t you, Lana?” Cassandra interjects. “Too bad your mother kept you hidden away and didn’t allow you to experience the life that was meant for you. But she did a wonderful job teaching you how to be deceitful and conniving.”

  I blink. She really just said that … out loud?

  “Excuse me?!” I snap back just as Olivia scolds, “Cassandra!”

  “What can I say? Like mother, like daughter.” Cassandra raises a brow and nods toward Grant.

  Wait. She thinks I seduced Grant away from Lily like my mother did Nick?

  I laugh dramatically—way over-the-top laughter. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Isaac has a hand over his eyes, like he wishes he could be anywhere else. The rest of the boys, other than Grant, lean back in their chairs like they’re utterly amused and are waiting for popcorn to take in the show. Lily refuses to look up from her plate, as does my mother, although she hasn’t eaten a thing.

  “Are you sure that’s how it is? Because last I heard, your husband didn’t want you, so he left. And Lily and Grant decided to call it quits, oh, probably around the time you started bathing in martinis.”

  Lily gasps.

  “L
ana,” Grant says firm but low. “Don’t.”

  Cassandra cackles and raises her martini glass in a toast. “Touché.”

  Niall stands and declares, “Enough. If you’re compelled to insult each other, then leave. It’s not happening at this table.”

  Everyone is silent, except for Lily, who’s crying. She pushes back from the table and rushes inside.

  Half the chairs scrape back to follow, but I stand first. “It’s my fault. Let me fix it.”

  There’s a sense of relief among most of the guys. Grant rises with me.

  I set my hand on his arm when he rounds the table. “Me first. You can talk to her after. Okay?”

  He nods but doesn’t sit again until I’m inside.

  I find Lily in her room, sprawled on her bed, weeping. I don’t bother knocking because if I were her, I’d tell me to go to hell. So I enter and lean against the cream-colored wall, prepared to duck if she throws anything at me.

  The room is elegant with white and blush-pink accents. But it doesn’t look much different from the guest rooms, like she chose not to personalize it. And considering how much effort she made to decorate my room, I wonder why. Maybe this isn’t where she wants to be.

  “I didn’t know Nick was your father,” I offer in apology. “Not until I saw his picture today.” After I saw the one, I couldn’t stop seeing him everywhere. There are so many pictures of him in the house that weren’t here before. Cassandra must have pulled them out of boxes to set on every surface when she heard my mother would be here. “I know it won’t make you feel better, but I hate what he did, not telling us he was still married. So I didn’t know like you thought I did.”

  Lily stops crying and rolls over. “What?”

  “You thought I knew; that’s why you left that message on my wall. You were warning me that you knew exactly who I was and what we did to your family. But that’s not true. My mother didn’t lure him away. She was devastated when she found out that he’d kept that from her. I was tempted to murder him when his ring fell out of his suit pocket. And I sure as fuck didn’t know he was your father. I’m really sorry this happened to you, Lily.”

  Lily’s cheeks are crimson. Not sure if it’s because she doesn’t believe me or she knows her father is really to blame.