by Jill Cooper
I nod. “It’s just a quick conversation.”
“Fine,” Maxx says angrily. “I’ll go, and I’ll call you when I’m done. But if she gets upset, I’m blaming you. I feel guilty about going to her mom. She must be at least a billion years old. The shock could kill her…which is why you’re sending me instead, right?”
I nod. Like I need anything else on my conscience. “Thanks so much. I’ll do your science homework for a week. A month.”
“The rest of the semester seems good to me.” Maxx finishes off her coffee before she stands. “I’ll text you. Wish me luck.”
“And we can’t tell anyone else about this. Just in case.”
Because someone got away with murder, and I don’t want them to kill me to protect their secret. Seems dramatic, but that’s the direction I’m going in. This town might like secrets, but I’m going to uncover every single one.
I enjoy a cup of coffee and check my social media accounts. I scroll through my Facebook newsfeed and love some photos on Instagram. Gregory Academy’s page has shared an image of the school with students in their uniforms lined up announcing the upcoming homecoming dance. My finger hovers over the love button and presses it after a minute of hesitation.
Part of me wants to hide from it, but I know I’ve done nothing wrong. So I type a quick comment I can’t wait and hit send. I smirk as the message appears and then I close the app. I thought Maxx would’ve reached out by now.
I text her, asking if everything is all right, just as I sense someone staring at me. Footsteps come closer to my table, and I glance up and see that it’s Ryan. My heart automatically flips in my chest. “Hi there,” I tuck my long hair behind my ears. The warning Jackson Sinclair gave me about him and the accusations he tossed at his dad ring in my ears. I’m not sure if I can trust the ravings of a man harboring a long grudge, but what if there’s some truth to what he said?
“Hi. You know when I said we should go for coffee, this isn’t how I imagined it’d happen.” He grips the back rail of the chair opposite me with one hand, and in his other he holds a paper coffee cup.
He’s so cute I can barely look him in the eye. I smile with a shrug. “You’re free to join me. I have some time.”
Ryan pulls the chair out and sits down. He takes off the white lid and gives his coffee a delicate sip. “I feel like I should ask you how your first week was, but I’m pretty sure it was a doozy.”
“It was something like that. I’m hoping next week goes better. How about you? How was your week?”
He nods. “Pretty good. Your arrival gave people something else to talk about other than the usual.”
“Oh, and what’s that?” Under the table, my knees knock together. To calm my nerves I take a sip of my coffee and lean forward.
“Boring shit.” Ryan laughs. “Who’s into who. Now it’s all omens this and omens that. People think a storm is coming, Chase, and they think you’re bringing it.”
“Great. And you like that?”
“At least it’s not boring. It gives Winnie something else to fixate on.”
Other than him, he meant. I wonder if that’s why he’s into me, or maybe he’s just curious about what my story is. I admit I’m beginning to wonder if there’s anything more to him than the handsome, rich kid. There has to be more to people than that, right?
“I’m happy to be a distraction. Obviously, she’s focused on me, but I’m told her bark is worse than her bite.”
“Something like that. Is this about those homecoming posters? It’s normal for talk of Amber Chetwood to get worse around homecoming, and some feel like she’s actually here.” Ryan smiles and raises his eyebrows. “Trippy.”
“I’m more than just a ghost from a past.”
“I know. I’m sorry if I offended you. I really don’t mean to.” Ryan’s eyebrows are on the move again—this time into a scowl. “I don’t know when to drop a joke. A line of thought. I’m just nervous.”
“About me?”
Ryan nods. “Yeah.” He stretches back and puts his hand in his pocket. “Thing is, I’m supposed to ask Winnie to the homecoming dance, but I really want to ask you.”
A burst of shocked laughter escapes me. “How can anyone be supposed to ask anyone to a dance?”
“Our families…they’ve wanted us to happen since we were in diapers. She’s into it, but,” Ryan rolls his shoulders and looks disinterested, “I’m not. I don’t want to be with someone because I’m supposed to. I want to be with the right person, even if everyone tells me it’s wrong.”
Or maybe because they are wrong. I’m pretty sure I’m the one he’s talking about from the way he practically salivates as he stares at me. It’s like he’s looking deep into my soul. “What’s so wrong about me? Other than I look like a dead girl.”
“Nothing’s wrong about you. I think everything is very right about you. So, will you go?”
“Depends. You still haven’t asked me yet.” I playfully bite my lip.
Ryan slides his hand under mine and raises it off the table. He strokes my fingers with his other hand. “Jessica Chase, will you allow me the privilege of taking you to the homecoming dance?”
“I’d love to.”
He kisses my hand, and my skin tingles. I want to blow out a deep, long breath, but I control myself. Ryan doesn’t need to know yet how into him I am. “Great. How about a date first to break the ice? There’s a drive-in theater not too far from here. I can pick you up tonight if you can get away.”
“I can.” Or well, I assume I can. I’m pretty sure Mom will understand…if I explain it the right way. “Pick me up tonight at seven.”
“Great,” Ryan winks at me and settles into his chair like he’s finally content. His body relaxes, and he leans his arm on the back of his chair. “What do you like on your popcorn, anything special?”
“Lots of butter and salt. I’m into the classics.” My phone buzzes, and I read a quick message from Maxx. “I’m afraid I have to go.” I rise up, and Ryan’s face flickers with shock.
“Okay, sure. I’ll see you tonight.”
“Tonight!” I glance back at him once I reach the door. He looks like a lost puppy. I wonder if anyone has ever left him sitting alone before. I didn’t want to leave, but I don’t have much choice.
May Chetwood has agreed to meet with me, and I can’t let this chance go.
I’m surprised by where she wants to meet. “You’re sure?” I park my ten-speed bike over by the wrought iron fence and gaze out onto the Glenwood Cemetery and its rows of pristine tombstones like it’s, well, a cemetery.
“I’m sure,” Maxx says with a haunted tone. “She was very specific. Row twelve. She said Amber’s grave is easy to spot. Her driver is bringing her out soon. He said…well, he said she never leaves the institute, but today is a lucid day. She got a day pass.”
A gust of wind blows past, and I shudder from the chill in the air and Maxx’s words. I worry what I’m doing is a mistake, but it’s too late now. The elderly Mrs. Chetwood is coming, and I can’t bail on her. Not after I had Maxx disrupt her life. I thank Maxx for all that she’s done to help me so far, and I slip between the gate, heading deeper into the cemetery.
The place has an eerie calm about it, but as I walk between willow trees in a protective covering of arched branches and leaves, I realize how beautiful it is. The walkway is covered with pink petals as I climb a hill and come to a mausoleum. A few moments later, I step onto the grass and walk up to a tall tombstone. On the stone, the image of a crown and a string of pearls is carved deep into the stone.
Amber Chetwood.
And beside her, an even smaller tombstone with the same name.
I shudder at the implications.
“Miss Chase?”
I turn around to see an older man in a black suit and a driver’s cap standing before me. He stands very still, and as I study his face, he studies mine. “That’s me,” I say with a croak in my throat. “Is Mrs. Chetwood with you?”
�
��No, Miss. But she wanted me to look at you so I could tell her if the story was true. And you look just like her. Just like Miss Amber.” He forces his mouth closed, but it’s not enough to stop the quiver of his chin. Tears spring in his eyes.
“You must’ve been close.”
He nods ever so slightly. “Long ago, when she was just a little girl—the both of them. I thought I’d carry that secret to the grave. Now you can see why Mrs. Chetwood will never leave the institute. Why she is the way she is.”
“And how is she?”
“Mad,” he laughs with no hint of humor. “Insane. And when I say that, know that I mean it in the most literal sense of the word. We lost part of her when her baby died, and we lost the rest of her seventeen years ago when Amber—I’m afraid I’ll never use her given name. Tessie.”
His words spring terror into my mind, and I shiver as if I’m standing in the shade and not full sunlight. This driver knew the Chetwoods when the baby died. He was there for all of it. How many secrets does he intend to take to the grave? What could I do to get him to reveal his secrets?
“I will tell her of your resemblance, but it may drive her to anger. Or it might give her comfort, but Miss Chase, you can never visit or send your friend again. It’s not just in Mrs. Chetwood’s best interest. It’s in yours as well. Do you understand?”
I nod, and all my arguments drain right out of me. I can’t even remember what my arguments were going to be. If I read between the lines well enough, I believe Bay Harbor to be a dangerous place.
He starts back to his waiting car, and I shout out one final question to him. “Amber’s killer, do you know who it was?”
“I’ve lived here a long time and worked for the Chetwoods nearly all my life, so let me give you a bit of advice. Let the dead stay dead. Don’t disturb their secrets. Otherwise, you might find other people rushing to meet Amber’s fate. One of whom may very well be you.”
I hadn’t learned the driver’s name, but I don’t think I’ll ever forget him. My arms are still cold as I drive my ten-speed back home. Once home, I put on a sweater and start meal prep with Mom for dinner. She slices tomatoes and mozzarella for our salad while I make iced tea. The view from the window gazes into our backyard and ravens circle through the trees before landing on the wooden beam of our fence.
Stirring the iced tea with a wooden spoon, I’m lost in my own thoughts. When I snap back into reality, Mom is staring at me with pursed lips. I think there was a question somewhere that I didn’t hear.
“Sorry, Mom. What was it?”
“Your Sunday. Just wondering what you did all day.”
“Had coffee with Maxx, the girl I told you about. Visited a few places in town.” It was quite the understatement, but the last thing I needed was one of Mom’s little talks. “Nothing very exciting. Oh, this boy—Ryan—asked me to the drive-in tonight. I was hoping you’d say yes.”
Her eyes quickly narrow. “Is he nice?”
“He’s nice. He’s your boss’s son.” I watch her face to see how she’ll react. Mom’s mostly calm but does look surprised.
“How’d you know who my boss is down at city hall?”
I don’t really want her to know what I was up to earlier in the day, so I shrug. “It’s public record. I like to keep an eye on you.”
Mom smiles with a crinkle of her nose. “Mr. Alistair is a nice guy. It’s not that I don’t want you to date. I do. And if you already have friends, that makes me feel great. It does. We’re settling in here. It can really be a home.”
“I feel that way, too.”
Mom bites her lip and places the sliced tomatoes onto a platter. “All I want is for you to make a place for yourself here.”
So, why am I hearing a but? I shift my weight from foot to foot, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“But a drive-in…I want to make sure you’re ready to handle yourself with this boy. If he…gets frisky with you, do you know what to do? You get out of the car, call me, and I’ll come and get you.”
I roll my eyes. “Honestly, Mom! This isn’t Riverdale or Pretty Little Liars.”
“I’d like to keep it that way.” She places her hand on my shoulder and kisses my cheek. “Make sure he comes to the door and doesn’t text you to meet him outside.”
So she wanted to meet him. Well, that was fair enough, especially considering the last few days we’ve had.
“He asked me to the dance,” I say as if that’ll make a difference. Maybe it will impress her. She’s always saying how I don’t participate in enough events.
“Well, that is something.” She wears a kindly smirk and lifts the platter of tomato and mozzarella off the counter. “Grab the utensils. You know, maybe next weekend we can go dress shopping. Unless it’s too lame to go shopping with your mom.”
I grab the utensils off the counter and gather up the blue cloth napkins. I follow Mom out to the dining room table. “It’s not lame. I’d like you to come. You’re the one with the credit card.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha.” Mom says dryly and pulls my chair out. “Let’s sit and eat. You can tell me all about this boy—what’s his name again?”
“Ryan.”
Her eyes sparkle with excitement. “Ryan, well, that’s a solid name. I like him already and…I’m happy you’re getting involved. I want you to have a great school year. I want the both of us to forget about…well, that business from the other day. Forget about Amber Chetwood.”
Mom hunches over more than I expect as she serves herself a portion of tomatoes onto her plate. I have to wonder why Amber upset her so much. Is it the threats I’ve received, or could it be something else?
My mind flicks back and forth between the past and the present. “Mom, did you ever ask your boss if he sent you the letter? If he’s the one that wanted you to apply for your job with the city board?”
She pokes her food with her fork, sliding it along the plate. “I did, and it wasn’t him. I showed him the note, and he said, tsk tsk.” Mom shrugs. “That’s all he said about it. He agreed I’m perfect for the job. He seemed thankful, and I am, too. I like it here, Jess. I want us both to give it a fair shot. Understand?”
My skin races with cold at how well Martin deceived her. What else is he lying about? “I do, too.”
I’m pretty sure she means to drop the subject about Amber and the circumstances of how we ended up in town. But it’s fairly obvious, with Mom’s job offer and my anonymous scholarship, that someone wanted me here. This morning I wanted nothing more than to find out why but now…
Now I’m afraid I won’t like the answers I find. Thinking of Mrs. Chetwood, I think her driver might be right. Maybe it’s best if I leave it alone and simply live my life.
And forget Amber Chetwood ever existed at all.
Chapter Twenty-Four: Amber 2003
I’m not Amber Chetwood. I’m not who I believe myself to be. I never have been. I sneak around my house, listening to the people who I thought were my parents, talking to lawyers. I peek into my father’s study, but when the lawyer glances at me, I pull back.
I squeeze my eyes shut and push my back up against the wall, my hands on my waist because I feel physically ill.
All the stories in the papers. The whispers at school. I thought I weathered a storm before, but I’ll never shake this.
I was kidnapped. The DNA test proved I am not a Chetwood. I’m a Summers. Cathy, a woman wearing a short dress with a tattoo on her ankle, is my mother. And I’m…Tessie.
I refuse. I won’t be.
But Amber died a long time ago. I’m merely a replacement. Something to cover up a crime that was committed.
The lawyer gets up to leave, and I try to hide beside the fireplace, but he heads right over. “You’re just the one I was looking for. Amb—Ms. Chet—” He clears his throat. “What would you like me to call you?”
Behind him, Mother slips out of the study. She folds her hands at her abdomen and stares at me with tears in her eyes. I try not to look at her.
He nods. “Ms. Summers wants to meet with you. A little bit longer than last time. It can be at the station, or it can be somewhere else of your choice. She wants to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m not okay.” My voice betrays how brittle I feel. I wish I hadn’t found those bones. I wish I hadn’t gone looking, but the little girl—Amber—seemed so sad. Scared even. The sound of my father screaming and her shadow falling down the stairs horrifies me. I’ve never known him to be cruel. I had only known him to protect me. Love me.
How can this be real? I’m supposed to be a Chetwood.
He squeezes my shoulder, and I know he means to do it with compassion, but he still means to force me to see her. “Things can go easier on your parents if you play along. You can talk to Cathy. See if you can get her to make a recommendation for a lighter sentence. The Chetwoods took good care of you. They love you. They didn’t hurt you.”
No, but they stole me. I was never meant to have this life. Who knows who I would’ve been if they hadn’t taken me?
“I’ll meet with her. I would like to do it outside of town. The diner attached to Motel 47. Let’s do it there. In a few days.”
“You don’t need to do that,” Mother says. “This is too much pressure to put you under.”
“It’s fine.” I shift my attention to the lawyer. “Arrange it.”
He nods and bids us farewell. When the door slams, Mother licks her lips. “Amber—”
“That’s not even my name.” I start up the stairs.
“Amber!” Her voice freezes me into place. I turn around and slowly take in the sight of how frail she looks now. It’s been less than a week, and she looks so much older than I remember her looking before. “I know what you’re thinking. That we used you to replace our daughter. And we did. Out of desperation. Out of sadness. We couldn’t take her loss.”
“Because Father killed her,” I whisper.
“He regretted it from the moment he lost control. I saw it in his face. I heard it in his voice as he rushed down those stairs. He never meant to push her.” Her mouth moves back and forth as if she’s fighting another round of tears. We’re all tired of fighting the tears. I’m sick of crying and of feeling. I want it all to just go away.