“I don’t have a brother! My parents didn’t have another child. They would have told me!” Hot, angry tears sting my eyes.
Did my parents lie to me my entire life? Did Claire know about our brother? Did everyone? Did Ember?
Graham squeezes my hand.
I jolt, realizing we’re still touching. He becomes blurry as tears well in my eyes. I blink, and two fat drops spill out.
He scoots the chair over and wraps his arms around me, pressing me against his chest. His racing heart thumps against my ear. “I’m sorry, Kenzi. I didn’t realize this would be news to you.”
I nod my head and try to stop the tears.
My parents had a son and never told me. Not one mention, ever. I’d have remembered something like that.
I struggle to take in deep breaths and make sense of the news. If he was ten years older than Claire, that would make him twenty-five years older than me. I’d have easily never met him. What if they had a falling out, and cut him out of their lives? That would mean my sister would’ve known him and purposefully never told me about him.
What about that room upstairs? It was supposed to belong to my dad’s brother. My uncle, Jack. What if it actually belonged to my brother?
“Kenzi?”
I pull back and look at Graham, not caring that my makeup is probably a mess.
“We can talk about this later. Once you’ve had some time to process everything.”
“That could be a while.” I tuck some hair behind an ear. “I can’t imagine coming to terms with this any time soon.”
He nods. “So, you don’t know how to contact your brother?”
“What if that’s his blood up there? How would you find out?”
“It’s not.”
“How do you know?” My tone is more accusatory than I mean it to be.
“Because it isn’t close enough to be a sibling’s or parent’s, but it is a relative’s.”
“Like an uncle?”
He nods. “Could be an uncle. Or nephew or cousin. Someone outside your direct family.”
“You only mention male relatives. It’s definitely a guy’s blood?”
“Yes.”
“Was there enough to confirm someone actually died?”
Graham shakes his head. “Not on the bed. But if there was a pool of it on the floor that had been cleaned, I’d say yes. Definitely enough to kill a person.”
A lump forms in my throat, and I fight more angry tears. “How do I go about finding my brother?”
If he’s alive.
“I can start an investigation. Check to see if he’s ever been on a missing persons list. There are a lot of options, but it’ll take time.”
“There’s no death certificate?”
He shakes his head no and says more.
But I can’t focus on what he’s saying. Pressure is building behind my temples. “You know what? I think I do need to lie down.”
“Do you want me to help you up the stairs?”
“No. I can get up there myself.”
He rises, and I walk him to the front door. Or he walks me, I’m not really sure.
We say a few words before he leaves. I have no idea what, though.
Now I’m alone in this enormous house full of secrets. Lies. Deception.
What really happened here? If only the walls could talk. I’d take one of Ember’s imaginary ghosts at this point.
A door slams shut upstairs.
The first thing I need to do is close the windows. I could use the fresh air, but there seems to be no way to stop the doors from opening and closing with the breezes.
I lean on the ornate railing, remembering leaping up the stairs as a child. Innocent and carefree, never imagining the secrets held by this house and my loved ones.
When I reach the landing, I look over toward the door to the third floor.
I have to go through those old boxes sooner than I’d planned.
5
Ember
My aunt has hardly said two words through dinner. Usually, she talks my ear off. Not that I’m complaining, but something is definitely wrong. And so far, nothing I’ve said has gotten her to open up.
“Did somebody else die?”
Her eyes widen. “What?”
“You’re acting weird. If you have bad news, just tell me. I can handle it.”
She chews on her lower lip and twists her long hair into a bun, wrapping it in a scrunchy from her wrist. “Let’s talk after dinner.”
“Okay. Are you even eating?”
Kenzi looks down at her barely-touched food and sighs. “I don’t have much of an appetite right now.”
“Wait. Aren’t you supposed to be working now?”
“I canceled.”
That confirms it—something is definitely wrong. She hasn’t missed a job since she started working up here. My stomach knots, and now I don’t want to finish my food.
“Eat.” She motions toward my plate.
“After you.” I lean back and cross my arms.
She tilts her head.
I don’t budge.
“Why don’t we go for a walk?” she asks. “I could use some air.”
“Sure.”
We don't bother putting anything away. Instead of heading for the front door, she goes for the back.
“The backyard?” I ask.
She nods and keeps walking. We pass my grandpa’s old office. Papers are spread out on the floor.
“What happened in there?”
“I’m going through his files.”
“At least it wasn’t a ghost.”
My aunt throws me an exasperated look. “Would you stop? All those noises we heard before were just Richard trying to scare us. That’s much creepier than a spirit, anyway.”
She may be right, but that doesn’t explain all the sounds I’ve been hearing since Richard’s arrest. I keep that thought to myself for the time being. “What are you looking for?”
“Records.”
“What kind?”
“We’ll discuss it outside.”
“Don’t want the ghosts to hear?”
She gives me another glance.
We pass the library. “You know, years ago people kept records in books. Grandpa once showed me some scrawlings in a book there. I think it was a family tree? I was only five or six, so I’m not entirely sure. But maybe you’ll find something in one of those books.”
Kenzi hesitates. “I hadn’t thought of that. Good idea.”
We make our way outside, where the grass goes past our ankles.
She locks the door, sighs, and pulls out her phone. “I’d better add lawn service to my ever-growing to-do list.”
“Are you okay? You really aren’t acting like yourself. I miss bubbly Kenzi.”
Her expression contorts into a scowl. “You’ll understand soon enough.”
My stomach knots again. Now I’m not sure I want to know.
We walk the length of the main part of the yard, and she keeps going once we reach the woods.
“We’re going in there?” My heart picks up speed, and I can almost hear Grandpa warning me to never go into the woods.
My aunt glances at me and nods. “There’s something I need to see.”
I swallow. “If you say so.”
We step into the darkness. All I can think about is that this was where Richard came and went when sneaking into the house.
Strange noises sound in the distance. It has to be animals, but that doesn’t stop goose bumps from forming on my arm. I don’t recognize any of the sounds.
And Kenzi isn’t any help. She says nothing as she marches on, weaving around trees and bushes.
“Have you been in here before?”
She simply nods.
“So, you know where we’re going? Not just tromping around at random?”
“Let me think.”
It’s my turn to sigh. As long as we don’t run into any rabid animals or axe murderers, I won’t complain. Or ghosts. This
place is just as creepy as the house was when we first moved in—after everything had been mostly untouched for the last five years.
Just when I’m nearly convinced we’ve reached the edge of the earth, we come to a clearing. The grass is even longer than in the yard, and colorful wildflowers decorate the landscape.
I can scarcely breathe. “Is this still our property?”
“Yeah. Come over here.” She leads me to the left. Tucked behind a copse of trees is a small iron gate with points on the top.
It protects gravestones.
I gasp.
She turns to me. “The original family plot.”
The tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I look around to see if anyone is watching us but no one’s there. Not anyone alive, anyway.
“Our family was the first to settle in the area,” she explains. “There was no cemetery until others moved in. Everyone was buried here until my great-grandparents—your great-great-grandparents—decided to reserve a plot in town.”
I have no words.
She points past the fence. “And over there is where the servants were laid to rest.”
“Where?”
“Just the land. They didn’t get fencing or grave markers.”
I picture their tiny rooms on the third floor and anger bubbles. “Why were they treated so poorly? It’s like they were less than human or something! Those terrible living quarters. Having to eat in the pantry after everyone else. I hate that the people who treated them so badly are in our bloodline! I wish it were the other way.”
“We can’t help what our ancestors did.”
I squeeze my fists. “I wish I could.”
She opens the gate. It squeaks and squeals in protest. “Want to come in?”
“Can I give them a piece of my mind?”
“Sure.”
I march in, glowering at the stones. Then my anger melts away as I see some of the dates. Some of these people were only children.
My aunt wanders around the fence line, looking at the ground rather than the graves. I nearly ask her what she’s doing, but my curiosity about the headstones gets the best of me. I have to clear moss and dirt to read some of the etchings. Then I snap pictures. Gretchen is never going to believe this. I barely can, and I’m standing here. How could these have been here my whole life and nobody ever told me? Was this why my grandparents never wanted me to go into the woods? Or did they just not want to deal with chasing after me in their old age?
Kenzi passes me, still focused on the outer edge of the tiny cemetery.
“What are you looking for?”
She turns to me, her eyes shining. “An unmarked grave.”
“Whose?”
“Jack’s.” She closes her eyes for a few moments before opening them and clearing her throat.
“But wouldn’t Grandpa’s brother be in the family plot in town? Not this one?”
“Have a seat.” She points to a metal bench covered in moss that looks like it could fall apart if I glance at it wrong.
“Um …”
“It’s sturdy.” She yanks off moss, pulls out a small towel from her handbag, and wipes the seat.
“You were ready to clean that off?”
“Yeah.” She plops down. “See? Sturdy.”
I study it for a moment and finally sit. It doesn’t so much as creak.
“Why would Jack be buried here?”
“There’s another Jack in our family.”
“Huh?” I try to make sense of what she means. “Like, Grandpa’s brother was named after someone?”
She draws in a deep breath. “Detective Felton came by today with some news on that knife and bed you found on the third floor.”
“You’re confusing me. What does this have to do with anything?”
“He told me there’s a record showing you have an uncle named Jack.”
“I have an uncle?”
Kenzi tugs on her bun. “Did your mom ever mention having an older brother?”
“What?” I exclaim. “No, never.”
Her expression tightens. “She either didn’t know or never spoke about him.”
“Apparently. Are you sure about that?”
She looks out over the gravestones before speaking. “The detective is certain. There’s a birth certificate but no death certificate.”
Everything starts to make sense. “You think he was buried here?”
“Maybe. But if he was, his resting place wasn’t marked. And it’s been too long to tell where he would’ve been placed.”
I leap to my feet. “Was it his blood up there?”
She shakes her head. “No, but it was a relative.”
“How do they know it wasn’t his?”
“The DNA shows it isn’t close enough of a relative to be one of my siblings.”
“Oh.” I sit back down and look at the stones of our ancestors. “So, maybe the blood was one of theirs.”
“Maybe.” She doesn’t sound like she believes it.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“I don’t think it means anything.”
“What doesn’t?” I ask. “Don’t hold back on me.”
My aunt holds my gaze for a moment. “Your grandma’s prints were on the knife.”
“Are you saying Grandma killed someone? Grandma?”
She shakes her head. “She lived here. Someone could’ve grabbed that knife from the kitchen and used it while wearing gloves. It doesn’t prove a thing.”
Silence rests between us as I try to connect the dots. I have an uncle, maybe alive and maybe dead. And my memory-compromised grandmother is possibly implicated in the murder of another relative.
I turn to Kenzi. “Which Jack was Grandma talking about on Saturday?”
“I don't know, but we need to find out.”
6
Kenzi
I pull into the parking spot and turn to Ember. “Are you ready?”
She glances over at the retirement center. “You think she’ll remember anything?”
“There’s only one way to find out.” I pull down my visor and check my reflection in the mirror before getting out.
Ember plays with her hair as we make our way to the front door. After I press the button, the receptionist unlocks the door from her seat. She’s the same person we saw on Saturday when picking up Mom for the service.
“Back again for Regina? She’ll be so happy.”
“I sure hope so. We’re good for another field trip?”
She chuckles. “She’s having a great day. Perfect timing for a short outing.”
I clear my throat. “What about a night pass?”
“You mean overnight?”
“Yeah. It’s already late afternoon.”
The girl flips through some papers. “Well, that’s a whole different matter. I’m not sure about that. You’d have to speak with her head nurse.”
I lift a brow. “You can okay a day pass, but not an overnighter?”
“Regina’s already approved for day passes with you. She’s been doing so much better since returning after the memorial. Even though it was a sad occasion, it did her a world of good to be with family.”
“Wouldn’t a night at the house she lived in for over forty years be even better?”
She shifts her weight. “Like I said, you’ll have to talk with her head nurse.”
Annoyance runs through me. They’re treating her like a prisoner. I force a smile. “Put her down for the day pass, and I’ll see what I can do about an overnighter.”
“Sure thing.” She clacks on her keyboard.
We walk down the hall toward Mom’s room, and I smile at everyone we pass. We don’t come across any nurses.
Ember turns to me. “Why do they make it so hard to get her out? You’d think they’d be happy for a break.”
I shrug. “Who knows? I’m sure they have their reasons, but they act like she’s not paying them to stay here. This isn’t a prison or mental facility.”
&nb
sp; In the room, Mom is sitting on her couch watching a black-and-white show I don’t recognize.
She turns to us, not showing recognition at first. Then her expression lights up. “Doris! Jane! You came again. Have a seat.”
Ember steps closer. “Actually, Grandma, we’re here to bring you home. Remember going there two days ago?”
“Will Jack be there? He’s such a nice boy.”
Ember glances at me.
I smile at Mom. “He might be. Do you want to come with us and see?”
“Yes. Let’s wait until my show is over.”
“It’s getting close to dinnertime. We should get going sooner rather than later.”
Ember steps closer. “Maybe waiting will give you time to find the head nurse.”
“That’s true.” I turn to Mom. “Ember’s going to watch with you while I ask your nurse a question.”
“Thanks,” Ember mutters.
Mom turns back to her show.
“You’ll be fine. Just talk to her like the characters are here in the room, and you’ll be okay.”
She nods and takes a seat while I go back into the empty hallway. Mom’s room is at the far end, away from the nurses’ station, which is usually noisy and bustling. I make my way there.
One of the nurses tells me the head nurse is at the other end of the building.
Of course she is. I make my way to the opposite side of the wing, glancing in the open doors for the woman. Just as I’m about to give up, she steps out from behind a closed door.
The older woman’s eyes light up. “You’re here to see Regina again!”
“I am, and I have a question about that.”
“Is she doing okay? She’s been in such a great mood since you took her out the other day.”
“That’s what I want to talk about, actually.”
She nods for me to keep going.
“My mom really improved after spending time at the house. She doesn’t remember living there for nearly five decades, but it did jog memories. Some of what she said was right.”
The nurse smiles. “Is that where you’re going to take her? I saw she has a day pass.”
“I’d like for her to spend the night with us.”
She jolts. “You would?”
“Yes. What if we’re able to bring back more of her memories? Her personality?”
Family Secrets (Brannon House Book 2) Page 3