Secrets of Redemption Box Set

by Michele Pariza Wacek

“I didn’t. I mean, I don’t know. I still don’t. But something got him riled up. Maybe you and Jessica were talking about him, and that’s what he overheard? But I think ...” Daphne sucked in her breath, her face unhappy. “Well, I might as well tell you all of it. I never wanted to share this with you.”

  That sick feeling of dread rose back up inside me. I struggled to breathe normally. “Tell me what?”

  “It’s just ... God, I hate this.” She glanced away. “Rich does blame you for Jessica disappearing but it’s not what you think. He believes that if we hadn’t been so focused on getting you to the hospital, we would have realized sooner that Jessica went missing and maybe we could have stopped it.”

  The pieces started clicking inside my head. “So if I hadn’t gotten sick, Jessica would still be here?”

  “I don’t think he really thinks that,” she said in a rush. “It’s like I said. I think he blames himself. He probably did find you two, you probably were talking about him and he probably got mad and stomped off. And ever since, I think he’s wished he could go back in time and change that. But it’s easier to blame you, especially because you weren’t even here. I just didn’t want you to think badly of him. He’s suffered enough.”

  Mia chose that moment to pop her head back in. “Who’s suffered enough?”

  “Rich.” Daphne and I both said. Daphne gave Mia a quick rundown of what she had just told me, while I jotted her story down.

  Mia stared at Daphne. “I didn’t realize you had found Rich. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Honestly? Because I forgot about it. Don’t you remember how crazy that time was? We were spending all our time trying to convince everyone, especially the cops, that something had happened to Jessica—that she hadn’t left on her own. But no one was taking us seriously.”

  Mia grimaced. “I remember.”

  “So it wasn’t anything I was trying to hide from you. From either of you.” Here she looked at both of us. “It just ... it seemed like all I would be doing is sharing gossip and hurting people’s feelings if I said anything. I didn’t think it would help anyone.”

  I reached over to grasp Daphne’s hand. “Thank you for finally telling me. And Rich may be right. Maybe Jessica would still be here if I hadn’t gotten sick.”

  “I didn’t tell you so you would blame yourself,” Daphne started to say.

  “I know,” I interrupted. “And I’m not. Well, not any more than I guess any of us are. My problem is that I can’t remember, and I think I really need to. For all our sakes. I wish there was something I could say to Rich, so he would be willing to share what he knows about that night.”

  “Rich isn’t thinking straight,” Mia said. “He has never thought straight when it comes to Jessica. Ever.”

  “Amen to that,” Daphne said.

  “God, I wish he had talked to us more,” Mia said. “Why didn’t he ever tell us that he saw you and Jessica that night? Did he tell anyone else? Other than the cops, of course.”

  “Wait, hold on,” Daphne said. “We don’t know he was the one who told the cops about seeing Jessica and Becca together.”

  Mia made a face. “Oh, come on. Who else would it have been?”

  “The someone else who saw them,” Daphne said.

  “How many people do you think were wandering around those woods that night?” Mia asked. “My money is on Rich.”

  “You’re probably right,” I said. “Although a fat lot of good it will do us. It’s not like we’ll be able to see those old police files.”

  Mia glanced up at me, a grin flashing across her face. “Oh? I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

  I looked away, the heat rising in my cheeks. In the corner of my eye, I could see Daphne eyeing us both. “What did I miss?”

  “Only that Daniel and Becca are dating,” Mia said cheerfully.

  “We are NOT dating,” I said firmly. “We went out to dinner. Once.”

  “And he kissed you.”

  “He kissed you?” Daphne broke in. “I don’t talk to you for a week and this is what happens?”

  My face was burning up. “Nothing much happened,” I said. “One kiss. Which wasn’t planned. And yes, last night we had dinner, but it wasn’t a date. He wanted to ask me why I saw Rich.”

  Mia cocked her head. “How did he know you talked to Rich?”

  “Because Rich told him.”

  “What happened with Rich?” Daphne asked.

  “It went about as well as you might imagine,” I said. “He didn’t tell me anything other than that he saw me and how I may have the rest of this town fooled but not him. And he told me never to talk to him again.”

  “Well, at least he didn’t beat around the bush at all,” Mia said.

  “No, he was pretty clear.”

  “I wonder if I should talk to him,” Daphne mused. “He really needs to let this go. It’s not good for him.”

  “Why don’t you wait a bit? Hopefully, I’ll get my memory back and that will give you an opening to start the conversation,” I said. “And God willing, he can hopefully finally get some closure.”

  “I like that idea,” Mia said.

  “I do too,” Daphne said. “So what’s the next step?”

  I could almost hear Aunt Charlie’s answer:

  Black to vanquish the bad energy. Red to draw in new energy. White for truth.

  Chapter 21

  “This is going to sound sort of strange,” I began.

  Daphne laughed. “What’s happened lately that hasn’t been strange?”

  “Well, there is that,” I said. “But this is strange even by our standards.”

  “Becca, just spill it,” Mia said. “We’re getting old here.”

  I held my hands up. “Okay, okay. I’ve been dreaming about Aunt Charlie again.”

  “Does she want you to drink more tea?” Daphne asked.

  I shook my head. “No, light candles.”

  Daphne’s face went blank. “Candles? Wait a second. Maybe I do need that coffee after all. No, no,” she waved me back down. “You talk. I’ll get it.”

  While Daphne got all of us coffee, I not only shared my dreams but also what Daniel had said about the dead animals and the Peeping Tom. I also mentioned how he thought Mia staying with me until all of this got resolved was a good idea.

  “Sooo,” Daphne said when I was finished, her face thoughtful. “You think the candles are here somewhere? Or are we supposed to go buy them?”

  “It sounds like they’re here,” I said. “Although I don’t know where. I’ve been through pretty much everything.”

  “Well, except the master bedroom,” Mia piped in.

  Daphne stared at me. “You still haven’t been in the master bedroom?”

  I squirmed. “Well, that’s Aunt Charlie’s room. My room is ... ah.” I trailed off, hearing how ridiculous I sounded.

  Daphne shot me a level look. “You do know that Charlie is dead. Right?”

  I laughed, a little self-consciously. “Yes, of course. I know it doesn’t make sense, but it just doesn’t feel ... right. Or something.”

  “Maybe you just need to redecorate it,” Daphne said briskly. “Make it your own.”

  “Maybe,” I said, although I doubted that would help. Not wanting to even open the door felt like the bigger problem, especially since it made no sense. What did I really think would happen? That her ghost would be there waiting for me? Maybe my friends were right and the sooner I opened the door, the better.

  “Redecorating could be fun,” Mia said. “Lord knows we need something fun around here.”

  “I agree,” Daphne said. “There’s no better time than the present to get started.”

  My mouth fell open. “Right now?” I had been hoping for a grace period—for some time to get used to the idea. My stomach was definitely queasy a
t the thought of it.

  Daphne deliberately pushed the chair back and got to her feet. “Do you want to get your memory back or not? Has it occurred to you that not opening that door may be what’s keeping you stuck?”

  Ugh. As much as I wished otherwise, Daphne had a point.

  I still didn’t want to do it.

  “Besides, wouldn’t you rather be sleeping in the master bedroom?” Mia asked.

  “You just want to stop sharing a bathroom,” I said, wanting to sound witty and sarcastic but knowing it fell flat.

  Mia grinned. “You won’t hear me complain.”

  “See, lots of benefits,” Daphne said, holding out her hand. Reluctantly, I took it and let her help me to my feet. She gave me a big smile. “Relax! We’re not escorting you to your execution. You might even like how this turns out.”

  I forced myself to smile back, even though I was still feeling faintly nauseous. “Do we have to do it now?” I asked, trying to make it sound like a joke.

  Daphne put her hands on my shoulders and steered me out of the kitchen. “Like I said, no time like the present.”

  I sucked in a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. I was definitely regretting all the coffee I had drunk as it was now sloshing around in my stomach. Slowly, with Daphne and Mia behind me, I headed up the stairs and down the hallway to Aunt Charlie’s room, trying not to think about what I was about to do.

  Daphne and Mia were right here. There was no way Aunt Charlie would be in that room.

  Was there?

  “Oh my God, Becca. Could you move any slower?” Mia’s voice floated out from behind me. “I have less than eight hours before my shift tonight.”

  “Ha, ha, very funny,” I grumbled, as the door loomed in front of me.

  Oh, for God’s sake, Becca. It’s just a room! Stop making this into such a thing.

  “Pro tip—it’s easier to open the door if you turn the door knob,” Mia offered.

  “Yes, yes, I know,” I said, gritting my teeth as I reached out to grab it. Before I could think about it too much, I turned it.

  The door easily and quietly opened, which took me by surprise. I had expected it to take a massive effort and be accompanied by a loud squeak at the very least.

  I pushed it open wider, all the while feeling more and more sure I was about to see Aunt Charlie in there, maybe propped up in bed, dressed in her silk dressing gown that only accentuated the skeleton she was now ...

  The room was empty.

  I took a hesitant step inside, closely followed by Daphne and Mia. It was dimly lit, and the air smelled of dust and cobwebs. Mia went over to one of the windows to wrestle it open, coughing as she disturbed the dust and propelled it into the air.

  The sun burst into the room so suddenly, my eyes watered. The fresh humid air was a welcome relief in the musty and stale room.

  “God this place needs a good dusting,” Mia said, opening the second window before disappearing into the attached bath to do the same.

  Aunt Charlie’s room was huge, containing a massive four-poster antique bed and matching dresser, bookcase, bureau and writing table. Gold and cream lamps stood on the two nightstands. Unlike the rest of the house, it was relatively free of clutter.

  The bathroom housed an old-fashioned claw-foot tub, a separate shower, two sinks, and a walk-in closet, also done in gold and cream. Dead curled up spiders littered the bottom of the tub.

  Daphne was standing in the middle of the bedroom, watching me carefully, while Mia dragged a finger through the layer of dust on the dresser. “Anything?” she asked.

  I shook my head, feeling deflated. After all the build-up, I was sure something would have popped up when I finally mustered up the courage to open the door, but there was nothing. Daphne’s face fell, looking as disappointed as I felt.

  “Maybe you need to spend more time in here,” Mia said. “Or sleep in here.”

  “It’s worth a shot,” Daphne agreed. “What if we help you clean it?”

  “You don’t have to do that,” I protested, but they both waved me off.

  “If we all pitch in it won’t take very long,” Daphne said as she moved toward the bed. Mia left to get cleaning supplies. “Besides, we should look for those candles. If opening the door didn’t jar your memory, maybe the candles will.”

  I watched Daphne strip the bed, her face wrinkling up as the dust flew around her head, a few stray red hairs escaping from her ponytail and draping across her forehead. I felt useless and foolish. Why did I wait so long to open this door? I could have moved in here weeks ago, instead of watching my friends help me clean—which was really my responsibility.

  I quickly redid my own ponytail as I went over to help Daphne. “I feel so silly,” I said.

  “Don’t,” she said. “We all have our demons. Most of the time, they don’t make any sense.”

  “Yeah, but there’s nothing here,” I said, frustration coloring my voice. “And now that the door is open and I’m in here, it’s like what the heck was my problem? I don’t even get it.”

  Daphne didn’t say anything for a moment, focusing hard on removing a pillowcase from a pillow. “Has it occurred to you that there may be a deeper reason why you haven’t regained your memory?” she asked.

  I went still. “Like what?” I was already pretty sure I didn’t want to hear the answer.

  “That ... maybe you don’t want to remember? That maybe what’s trapped in your head is so ... awful, your brain is protecting you by not letting you remember?”

  How many more are going to die because you refuse to remember?

  I licked my dry lips, tasting dust. “I ...”

  “This should get us started,” Mia said, dragging in cleaning supplies along with my iPod and speakers. “What’s cleaning without a little Beyoncé?” She stopped when she saw my face. “What did I miss?”

  I shook my head and tried to force a smile. “I feel stupid is all. Making such a big deal about this room.”

  “You’ve had to deal with a lot of crap,” Mia said. “Don’t even worry about it.”

  “And ...” I paused. The last person I wanted to let down was Mia, but I felt like it needed to be said. She deserved to know. “Daphne pointed out how maybe my brain is intentionally blocking me from remembering.” I sat heavily down on the side of the bed, puffs of dust floating up. “What if that’s true? What if I did see something so horrible that my brain won’t let me remember? What if I’m never able to remember?” I looked up into both of their faces, feeling hopeless.

  “Hey,” Daphne said, sitting down next to me. “I think it’s a little early to go there.”

  Mia knelt in front of me. “I agree. We barely got this door open. And we still haven’t found the candles.”

  “You didn’t even really try to remember until recently, right?” Daphne asked.

  I nodded, wiping the sweat and dust from my cheeks, feeling tears sting my eyes.

  “Okay. So, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Daphne continued. “There’s still a lot we haven’t done. We still have to finish figuring out where everyone was that night. Plus, it would be nice to know what Rich actually saw or heard, so maybe we can focus on getting that information, too. And look, this irrational fear of this room may be a good thing. Maybe there is something in here that will help you remember. Maybe that’s why you were so afraid of it.”

  “Plus,” Mia added. “If none of that works, there’s still therapy.”

  I made a face.

  Mia laughed. “There’s more than one therapist in this town.”

  “I’m not a brain expert,” Daphne said. “But, my understanding is that the only way to fully heal is to remember. So actually, if you did see something traumatic, maybe the best thing for you would be therapy so a professional can help you process it safely and really heal.”

  What Dap
hne said sounded so reasonable, so sane. “You’re right,” I said, feeling more optimistic than I had since this started. “And thank you.” I reached out to hug both of them.

  “Anytime,” Daphne said, her voice muffled in my shoulder.

  I stood up, brushing off my shorts. “So, I’m ready to clean. But, honestly, I’m good. Neither of you need to help me. I’m perfectly capable of ...”

  Mia’s answer was to blast a hip-hop dance number through my iPod. “I can’t hear you,” she yelled as she picked up a duster.

  I reached for my own rag, deciding I might as well stop fighting it and just be happy they were there helping me. It ended up being almost fun—a sort of giant dance party that included scrubbing, vacuuming and washing.

  When Daphne started trucking armloads of my aunt’s clothing down the stairs, I protested, “Wait a second. You don’t have to do that. I should be the one …”

  Daphne only smiled. “Becca, you can’t move your stuff in with Charlie’s taking up all this space. It’s no big deal to move this stuff downstairs. You start going through the drawers.” She nodded her head to the dresser as she headed down the stairs.

  I blew the air out of my cheeks as I faced the dresser. She was giving me a gift. She was giving me the opportunity to find the candles.

  I started opening drawers and sorting what I found. Socks. Jeans. Bras. Underwear. Shorts. Tee shirts. Nothing I wanted to keep.

  I started on the bureau and found more of the same—a never-ending pile of clothes.

  “God,” Mia said, dancing toward the door, her arms filled with curtains to take outside to air. “Did she ever throw anything away?”

  “Doesn’t look like it,” I mused, pulling out a giant pink tee shirt with a pig on it and adding it to the growing pile. “There are things here that are easily older than me. And some of these shirts are huge! She must have lost a bunch of weight at some point.”

  The next drawer I opened was full of odds and ends. Picture frames. A music box. A couple of snow globes.

  And candles.

  Specifically, a black wrought iron candle holder with one black, one red and one white candle poised in it.