I’m the slowest of all of them to walk over simply because even though forty years have passed, Bonnie strongly resembles the fifteen-year-old Barbara. Her words replay over in my mind, but I continue to walk over to the group, shoving the heebie-jeebies to the side.
“There has to be something,” Bonnie is saying.
“You have a right to be frustrated,” Mr. Fulton says. “But none of that information is available to the public yet. When it is, you will be the first person I contact.”
“So, there is information, then? Police have discovered some kind of clue?”
Mr. Fulton sighs. “Bonnie, I cannot disclose anything to you at this time.”
She rubs her arms as if cold, and her face briefly crumples. Then she composes herself.
I am almost tempted to tell her what happened, but something stops me. What if we are wrong? Even though I don’t think that’s the case, I still hold back. We need more proof. Mitch’s gaze meets mine. He acts torn, too.
Before either of us can say anything, Bonnie Blackstone turns to leave. “Mitch, I’m glad you’re here. I need your help at the library.”
Mitch nods and follows his mother to her car. “Where’s your truck?” she asks him, as they walk away from us.
“Ginnie’s grandmother’s house.”
“I’ll drop you off there, then follow me into town.”
Mitch turns to us. “I’ll stop by later if I can.”
They get into the vehicle and back out of the driveway. A few minutes pass before Ian breaks the silence. “She’s hiding something.”
Isaac, Cassie, me, and Mr. Fulton turn to Ian, who shuffles from one foot to another. “I don’t think so, Ian,” Mr. Fulton says. “She’s most-likely grief-stricken.”
“No, you’re wrong.” Ian glances at his father, only to look away. “Her eyes are shifty. She couldn’t make eye contact for long. That is classic body language for hiding something.”
“All right, maybe I’ll look into it.” Mr. Fulton waves good-bye at me and Cassie and walks with Ian up the porch steps and into the house. “I’m assuming you’re going to be at Mrs. Paxton’s?” he asks over his shoulder.
“For a little bit,” Isaac answers.
Mr. Fulton sticks his head out the door. “I know you all are curious, too, but make sure to leave the crime scene alone. Understood?”
We agree and head back to Isaac’s Jeep. Once inside and on the road, Cassie’s cell phone beeps. “It’s Mitch,” she says. “He texted to say that he’s waiting at the house.”
“So much for following his mother,” Isaac jokes.
“He must really want to talk,” I say.
Mitch sits on Gran’s porch when we pull in her driveway. Cassie jumps out before Isaac has the key out of the ignition. “I don’t think she’s quite ready to embrace us as a couple,” I say quietly. “I mean if we are a couple. That was a bit brazen. I didn’t mean to suppose—”
“Suppose all you want to.” He leans over and gives me a quick kiss. “At some point, I would like to be alone with you.”
“We’ll figure something out.” I’m relieved that I didn’t put my foot in my mouth like I thought I did.
As we approach Gran’s house, Isaac calls out, “So much for helping your mother, huh?”
“Ha, ha,” Mitch laughs with no humor. “I told her I needed to talk to Ginnie, and I’ve waited all day to do it. She says to come when I’m finished here.”
“Sorry,” I apologize. Now that I think about it, Mitch probably has been waiting all day for us to finish the conversation from this morning. “I didn’t want to upset Ian, but yeah, that did take a little while longer than anticipated.”
Mitch shrugs. “I’m not complaining. Mom probably has boxes full of books that need moving. I have no problem delaying that for as long as possible.”
Cassie already sat next to Mitch on the porch swing, so Isaac and I sit in the two available wicker chairs. “Tell me what happened,” Isaac starts.
Cassie nods at me, so I explain the story again. Just repeating the words brings the memory of the girl and her pain fresh into my mind. “We think my Dad might be her son.”
“Wow. It makes sense. A DNA test will tell us for certain.”
“What about the father? If he’s alive, that could eliminate a lot of questions,” I say the words, thinking about some man out there who is my biological grandfather and doesn’t even know it. “I’m not sure why I didn’t think of it before.” I try not to get excited, but I do anyway. “My grandfather could still be alive.”
“He’s not.”
I stop and look over at Mitch. “Sorry, Ginnie. He’s not alive. My mother told me one time that he took it hard when Barbara disappeared. He left town soon after. His parents left town not long after.”
“How do you know he’s dead?” Isaac asks.
“Mom said one of their mutual friends told her a few years back. He was drunk one night and got hit by a car.”
Any excitement I had felt fizzed out. “There goes that idea.”
“You guys are missing the point!” Cassie jumps off the swing and throws her hands up in the air. She startles all three of us, mostly because she has sat there so quietly. I should have known that there’s nothing quiet about Cassie. Now she paces back and forth, sighing in exasperation. “You act like Barbara Blackstone’s main objective was to reunite her family. That’s an awful lot of unrest the last forty years just for Ginnie to meet her biological grandmother!”
I think of Barbara and the intense pain I felt inside of me when I touched her hand. “Cassie’s right. Something happened and Barbara wants me to figure it out.”
“It probably has to do with the curse,” Mitch adds. “If you and your Dad are truly related to her, then your lives may be in danger, especially his.”
“The curse. She has to be warning me about the curse.”
“Are you in danger?” Isaac asks me.
“Yes,” Mitch answers. “Well, maybe not her.”
“My Dad.”
“Wait a second,” Cassie interrupts. “Why is only Uncle Sam in danger? What about Bonnie Blackstone? She’s in danger, too.”
“Whoa,” Isaac throws his hands up. “The curse exists? I mean, literally exists?”
Mitch nods.
“Can someone please answer my previous question?” Cassie asks. “Who all is in danger?”
Isaac shakes his head, ignoring Cassie. “No, Mitch. It doesn’t make sense. If there is a curse, when does it take place, how does it happen, who does it involve? I’ve heard about the curse my whole life, but it’s just a legend.”
“Tell that to Barbara Blackstone.”
“There are other things that could have happened,” I add. “What Isaac said makes sense. When I was researching here at the house and at the library, there wasn’t any kind of questionable disappearances or deaths.”
“It happens every forty years,” Mitch says impatiently. “I told you that.”
“The county has had a newspaper for over a hundred years. My Gran writes a column for it. I scrolled back as far as I could. There’s been a few fishing accidents, and a hunter accidentally shot himself, but nothing about any Indian deaths or an ancient curse. That’s got to mean something.”
“What are you saying?” Mitch asks with a flash of temper. “That my mother’s a liar?”
“No,” I say quickly. “I’m just thinking out loud. A curse doesn’t have to mean only death. You said the curse was about the tribe warring within each other. Somewhere I read that it’s never having peace. Does your mother have peace? See, maybe the curse is plaguing your people every day. It doesn’t have to mean death.”
“But in this case it does.”
“Maybe your mother got misinformation,” Isaac says. “She was only fifteen when her twin sister died. Maybe she clung to the legend as the only explanation for what happened.”
The screen door bangs open, as Gran steps out onto the porch. “Which one of you girls is taking me
to mass?”
Cassie and I glance at each other, neither wanting the honor.
“Well, don’t argue over it. You can both go. Boys, you need to leave. The girls are taking me to church.”
Isaac tells me he’ll text me in a few hours, and Mitch asks if he can come by later on.
“I’ll call you,” Cassie tells him.
Once they have left, Gran sighs, “Okay, go get changed. I’ll wait for you.”
“What’s wrong with what we’re wearing?” Cassie asks.
“Ginnie’s skirt is far too short and your shirt is far too revealing. We’re going to the house of God, and since He is the one who created you, He doesn’t need to see all your body parts. He already knows what you’ve got. Besides, we have plenty of time.” She sits down in one of the chairs. “I’ll wait for you.”
Cassie and I make eye contact, both knowing it’s a battle that we won’t win.
“Come on,” I say in defeat and open the screen door. “It looks like we’re going to mass.”
24
“How much of it do you think she heard?” I whisper to Cassie as we’re heading up the stairs. Once in the house, I notice we still have an hour until evening mass. Saint Mary’s Catholic Church can’t be more than five minutes away. “Do you think she broke it up on purpose?”
We walk into our bedroom, and Cassie shuts the door. “Why would she break it up? She’s just being Gran, that’s all.”
I decide to tell Cassie about my suspicions. “I think she’s hiding information from us.”
Now Cassie raises her eyebrows. “I don’t know,” she finally admits. “But Gran wouldn’t lie to us, Ginnie. You know that. She’s just as much your grandmother as she is mine.”
My heart feels the pang of guilt. Cassie’s right. “I’m probably overanalyzing everything,” I say. “I didn’t mean to implicate Gran as untruthful.”
Cassie hugs me, rubbing my back. “We’ve got a lot of stuff swirling around us right now, but Gran? The woman is incapable of keeping secrets.”
I smile in response to Cassie’s smile and push the thought aside. But not for long. Something nags at the back of my mind, and I can’t fully rule out Gran. She is hiding something. I don’t just know it. I feel it.
“Do me a favor?” I ask as I’m changing outfits. “Don’t say anything to her. I don’t want to upset her.”
“Of course not,” she says. “You know, it’s too bad that Barbara’s boyfriend isn’t alive anymore. It would have made things a lot simpler.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I wonder if he was murdered, too.”
“So, you think Barbara was murdered?”
“Yes. Didn’t you feel that?”
“Yeah, I did.” It should be a relief that Cassie sensed the pain of the girl, as well, but instead, it creates a tension in me. I had wanted to be wrong. “I need to figure out what this curse is all about.”
“Seems convenient, doesn’t it?” Cassie says what I’m thinking. “Someone kills that girl, then blames it on an ancient Indian curse. I’m not buying it.”
I grin over at my cousin. “Are we like Sherlock Holmes?”
“Yes, there is a mystery here that needs to be solved, and it would be cool to be Sherlock, especially the Robert Downey Jr. version of Sherlock.”
“Hey! What if I wanted to be Sherlock? I am British, after all. You be the Watson character.”
“Okay, okay, we can both be Sherlock.”
We start giggling. I brush out my hair, set down the brush, and sigh. “Well, there’s no getting out of it. Come on, Gran and mass are waiting.”
Cassie groans, and we leave the room. “Why can’t she be a Christmas and Easter Catholic?” Cassie asks as we go down the stairs.
Gran is standing at the door and smirks at us. “You two act like I’m about to pull out your teeth. Lord have mercy.”
“You know there is a beauty to worshipping God at home,” Cassie tries.
“Nice try. Let’s get a move on.”
Cassie drives because I’m uncomfortable driving on the wrong side of the car. Once on the road, I watch as Gran reapplies her lipstick and checks out her hair. I ask, “Why are you getting all gussied up? There might be ten people there.”
“Well, now there will be twelve since you two are going. Besides, there aren’t many events I get dressed up for anymore. Let me at least look nice for mass.”
We arrive forty-five minutes early. “What are we supposed to do now?”
“Pray.” Gran gets out of the car and heads inside.
“You know, prayer might not be a bad idea,” Cassie says and follows Gran.
“For forty-five minutes?” I ask, not that either of them is listening.
Inside, the church is dark and quiet, and I find myself relaxing. Being here with Gran and Cassie is much different than being forced to attend with a couple hundred school kids. Gran is already lighting a candle and kneeling. Cassie watches her and follows suit.
I light a candle for Barbara Blackstone and pray for her soul. But, just like in school, it doesn’t take long for my mind to wander. From bugs to ghosts, I try to connect the dots. What does science say?
Science says that a decomposing body would elicit feeders. Beetles liked eating dead things. Dad said he’d seen those beetles around this area when he was little. Maybe the beetles were just that. Beetles. But what about my dreams? I had my first nightmare before I ever set foot in Gran’s house. And then there was the one on my head, and the ones around my ankle when I fell in the water.
And the ghost? What does science say about ghosts? What would science say about my picture with the ghost captured in it, or about the ghost sightings? Cassie saw the ghost, too, which legitimizes all of these freakish things that defy science.
A shiver shoots up my spine.
“No more thinking about bugs or ghosts,” I whisper to myself.
“Shh,” Gran says from beside me. “Some of us are trying to pray.”
I glance over to Cassie who’s already finished praying and is now flipping through her phone.
Gran sees her and clucks her tongue. “We’re in the house of God,” she whispers at Cassie. “Put that away.”
“Sorry, Gran,” she says.
Gran looks at both of us and shakes her head. “Let’s go and wait for mass to begin.”
As we enter the large sanctuary, the priest stands by the doors, smiling at Gran. “There you are,” he says, before blessing her. “We prayed for a speedy recovery, and I’m glad to see the Lord has heard our prayers.”
Gran introduces me and Cassie to Father Wayne Briggs. “These are my granddaughters I’ve told you about.”
“You are all Ms. Paxton talks about. One of you graduated early, did you not?”
“That would be my Ginnie.” Gran pats my arm. “She’s to go to the University of Michigan where she wants to study photography.” Gran acts pleased with herself. “And Cassie will attend my alma mater, as well.”
Father Briggs addresses me. “I think it’s wonderful that you completed your studies early. God does not honor the slothful.”
“Thank you, Father.” I slightly bow my head, all my religious education at the forefront of mass etiquette.
He blesses me, but Cassie has already left us to sit in a pew. I go to her while Gran chats some more with the Father. “Why does Gran have to act like that?” Cassie whispers in my ear. “It’s like she’s not giving us a choice.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell her. “Just smile and nod, and let our parents handle the details with her.”
Finally, mass finishes, and Cassie and I wait while Gran goes to greet the priest. I watch her and notice she’s not going over to the priest, but to an older gentleman at the organ. I nudge Cassie and point toward Gran. Now we’re both watching. Gran is full-out flirting with the man, tossing her hair back, smiling, and even batting her eyes.
“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” I ask.
“Oh, yes, I am
.”
The man seems to soak up the attention. He’s at least a head taller than her with gray hair and matching mustache.
“He’s not bad,” I whisper. “She could do worse.”
“That suit looks like he’s been wearing it since the 1970s.”
I look over at Cassie, as she watches disapprovingly.
“What’s wrong?” I’m surprised at Cassie’s reaction.
“Nothing. Other than she drags us out here, pretending it’s for her salvation, only to find out it’s because she wants to flirt with the musician.” Cassie rolls her eyes. “Wait till I tell Mom.”
Gran waves us over.
“Behave,” I whisper to Cassie, who snorts in response.
“These are my lovely granddaughters I was telling you about,” Gran says as we approach. “This one is my Ginnie, and this one is my Cassie. Girls, this is George Hodgens. He’s been a friend of your grandfather’s and mine for many years.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say. “You play the organ beautifully.”
“Thank you, and it’s nice to finally meet Sam and Sue’s daughters. Your grandmother cannot say enough good things about you.” He smiles over at Cassie. “How is your mother doing?” he asks her.
“Fine, thank you.” Cassie is all decorum and politeness, and I have to hand it to her, she plays the part well.
“How about some dinner?” he asks the three of us. “My treat.”
Cassie’s mask of politeness falters for a split second, but she quickly agrees.
“That sounds delightful,” I add, poking Cassie in the ribs.
“I will ride over with George,” Gran tells us. “We like to go to Big Boy.”
“Big Boy,” Cassie repeats, then looks over at me with eyes that say she’s clearly not thrilled.
“What’s wrong with Big Boy?” I whisper as we walk away.
“Nothing, if you enjoy eating out at a place populated by senior citizens!”
“At least we’ll have each other.”
Still, on the way there we try to come up with excuses to get out of dinner. We can’t think of anything plausible, so we vow to make the dinner go as fast as it can. As we pull in to the restaurant, Cassie comments, “See? Check out all the Lincolns, Cadillacs, and Taurus’s! Told you!”
Lake of Secrets Page 20