The House Guests

by Emilie Richards

  “Then isn’t it time to end it?”

  “How would we know? We don’t know what caused it. Maybe somebody shot somebody’s dog, or maybe somebody shot somebody’s wife? Bad feelings can go on and on, and sometimes they just get worse.”

  “You don’t think I should go any further, do you?”

  Savannah didn’t know what she thought. She wished she’d considered this more carefully, too. Just like Georgia.

  “I have an idea,” Will said, when she didn’t answer. “I can contact him through the site, using the Jake Green name. I don’t have to tell him anything about myself. But I thought maybe I’d tell him I’m a foster child somewhere like Georgia, where Roger Hart was from, checking to see if I have family. That would be safe, wouldn’t it? He could never trace me to Florida.”

  “What would that accomplish?”

  Will stumbled over his words. “He’s the first blood relative other than my mom that I’ve ever even heard of. At least I can find out a little more. Maybe someday when I’m an adult on my own, I could meet him and get to know him. Not now, but later. At least I’d know he was out there.”

  “What about the rest of your profile? Other people?”

  “Distant cousins and stuff. Way distant.”

  “Maybe you’d better sleep on this. Think about all the things that could happen.”

  Will cleared his throat. “I already contacted him. I don’t know if he’ll even get back to me or want to. But I didn’t want to waste time.”

  Savannah had a bad feeling about this. She promised herself and God above that if this just turned out okay for Will, she would stop interfering in other people’s lives. “You’ll be careful, right? You won’t tell him anything about who you really are or where you live?”

  “Of course not.”

  She felt marginally better. “When I get back, we can talk about this some more, okay? See what you can do that will help you feel better without giving anything away?”

  “It’s going to be okay. It’s just exciting, that’s all.”

  Savannah wondered what she would find if she spit in a tube. After what Gen had told her about her maternal grandparents, and after what she knew firsthand about her other ones, she decided she would be content to just pass through life with two mothers, a father who had given so much when he was alive—and nobody else.

  “Just take care,” she said.

  “I gotta go. Some of us still have school.”

  “Hey, I’ll be doing schoolwork for the whole spring break. I emailed all my teachers. You ought to see the list of stuff I have to make up.”

  “It’ll keep you out of trouble.”

  They said goodbye. She realized that when she’d silently listed her family, she’d forgotten to add Will, who was the closest thing to a brother she’d ever have.

  Now that she thought about it, there were more, too. Yiayia. Roxanne. Amber. Travis. She almost called Will back to point out that family wasn’t about blood in your veins, Cassie being a case in point. But that was so sappy she couldn’t say it out loud.

  She got out her tablet and looked up Darryl Hawken, West Virginia sheriff. He wasn’t hard to find. She found a good close-up of him lecturing other law enforcement officers. He was a man who looked relaxed and in command, dark-haired, with the long nose Will had mentioned and a square jaw. Sheriff Darryl Hawken really did look like Will. Could that be a coincidence? With everything else, it seemed unlikely.

  The whole situation was mysterious. She just hoped it was mysterious in a good way.

  40

  AFTER YEARS OF KEEPING track of Darryl, Amber knew how to search for Betsy’s son. Five minutes after everyone left on Monday morning, she discovered that a Karl Garland had been hired by the West Virginia Aeronautics Commission in Charleston to assist the director. She knew that Karl had a pilot’s license and a degree in aerospace engineering. This was the right man.

  After determining that Karl was living in Charleston, she made a list of care centers, hospitals and rehab facilities in the general vicinity. She listed dozens that might treat patients with the kind of injuries Betsy had sustained, especially when Amber expanded the search to all of Kanawha County. Finding phone numbers, getting connected to someone who could tell her if Betsy was a patient, convincing that person she had a right to know? All of it took time. By Tuesday morning she’d managed to work her way through the first dozen listings. She had dropped Will at school, picked up a few groceries, and then hurried home to make more calls. Cassie had texted earlier to say she was delayed in New York and would call that evening to explain. In the meantime, Amber hoped to find Betsy.

  The next facility on her list was the West Virginia Center for Successful Rehabilitation in Elkview, northeast of Charleston. She saw the rating was high and patients and families were as satisfied as they ever were. Nobody liked the food, but that was to be expected. If Betsy was there, she’d whip the nutrition staff into shape.

  She took a deep breath and donned her Sue Simpson persona, Betsy’s fictional cousin. Some facilities were more amenable to putting family through than friends.

  The staff member who answered was brusque and professional, immediately inquiring who Amber wanted to speak with.

  “My cousin Betsy Garland is a patient there. I just got your number. I am so relieved. May I speak with her, please?”

  The woman hesitated, and Amber thought she heard papers being shuffled. “She may not be back from breakfast yet.”

  Her heart sped up. She struggled to sound casual. “Betsy always likes a good breakfast. So she’s doing well enough to go to the dining room on her own?”

  “I believe it’s part of her therapy. Of course she has help.” The last was said as if the woman was making sure Amber knew no one was forcing poor starving Betsy to crawl on hands and knees to the dining room.

  Amber infused warmth into her voice. “I’ve seen your reviews. I know how lucky she is to be in a facility like yours.”

  “Well, I’ll put you through to her room, but if she doesn’t answer, please call back in about thirty minutes.”

  “I’ll make sure to do that.” She hadn’t realized how tense she’d been until relief worked its magic. Not only had she found Betsy, but her old friend was well enough to go back and forth to the dining room.

  The phone rang and rang, and just as Amber thought she needed to try again later, someone picked up.

  “Hello...” The voice quavered, and the woman cleared her throat immediately after that one word, as if she was afraid more might not emerge.

  Quaver or not, Amber recognized the voice. “Betsy!” She lowered her voice. “Betsy, are you alone?”

  “Heather?”

  “Amber now.”

  “Of course. Neither of my roommates is here at the moment. Darling, how are you?”

  “I’ve been worried sick about you. I finally called Tammy and told her I was a former student named Sue Simpson—”

  “She told me. Did she tell you what happened?”

  “Do you feel well enough to give me details?”

  “Let me get comfortable. I’ll be alone for a while. I’m supposed to practice holding a pen and writing my name. My hand got pretty smashed up.”

  “Tammy told me you were visiting Karl and taking a morning walk. She said a driver hit you and then drove off and left you. Is that true?”

  “That’s what they tell me.”

  She wasn’t surprised that the shock of a nearly fatal accident had wiped away memories of it. “So you don’t remember?”

  “I remember leaving the house.” Betsy paused as if to rest, and her words came slowly. “I remember where I was walking, too—a road not far from Karl’s new condo. I think I remember stopping because I heard an indigo bunting. It was a little early in the season to hear one.”

  “You taught me so many birdcalls
.”

  “You’re like a daughter to me.”

  A tear spilled down Amber’s cheek. “Do you remember anything else?”

  “Waking up in the hospital. Karl was sitting next to my bed. He told me I’d been unconscious for three days.”

  “It’s a nightmare. I’ve been so worried.”

  “Don’t be. I’m getting better. Steadily better. Once I’m released, I’ll stay with Karl another week, then I can go home. I’ll need a little household help, but they tell me eventually I’ll make a full recovery. But why were you calling? Originally, I mean? Did you leave a message online?”

  “I did. I was just checking to see if you had heard anything new.” She was sure Betsy understood exactly what she meant.

  “My memory’s not what it was. But I think I remember... I do remember. I needed to talk to you. Then this...”

  “Do you remember why?”

  “Give me a moment.”

  Amber waited, trying not to picture her friend alone on the roadside bleeding and unconscious, while Betsy formed a halting reply.

  “He was harassing one of my sewing girls, flirting with her and making suggestive remarks at a little fashion show we did. One of his deputies has a daughter who modeled her dress, and he tagged along. I confronted him and put a stop to it. He... He was unhappy I intervened. The argument escalated. I lost my temper. I said he didn’t deserve...to wear a badge.”

  Amber felt vaguely sick, as if the worst was yet to come. “He didn’t like that, I’m sure.”

  “He asked how I would know... And, I made a mistake. I said...” Betsy paused a long time, but Amber didn’t interrupt. “I said he should be in jail, not running it.”

  “Oh, Betsy...”

  “I know, I know. I’ve been so careful, Heath—Amber. I lost my temper.”

  “Was that all that happened?”

  A long pause. “Maybe.”

  Amber couldn’t let that pass. “Something else?”

  “I don’t know. But...I came home from the store a few days before I went to Karl’s. There were no obvious signs someone had been there, but...” She sighed. “It felt like it. Do you know what I mean? A few things had been rearranged... Like mail on my desk, books out of place on my shelf.”

  Betsy was a cheerfully meticulous housekeeper, and in her house, every book was perfectly lined up with every other in alphabetical order.

  The next question was hard to ask. “Was anything missing?”

  “Something might have been. I...I just don’t know if somebody took it, or maybe I put it somewhere else and can’t remember.” She paused, as if she didn’t want to go on, but she did. “The photo of you and Will in North Carolina. The one at the overlook? Mountains behind you?”

  “You kept it?” Amber had expected Betsy to destroy the photo, the way she’d destroyed the others she’d sent.

  “I know. I shouldn’t have. But I miss you, and I loved seeing that boy growing up. And I...I thought it would be safe...if I put it in my Bible.”

  Amber closed her eyes.

  Betsy sounded like she was going to cry. “I thought a Bible was the last place a man like that would ever look!”

  “Don’t worry. Please don’t worry. If it was him, maybe he won’t recognize me. And even if he does, he won’t know where we are. I am so, so sorry to involve you in this.”

  “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I hope... I hope I just put it somewhere else. But I think, I remember... I tried to find it before I went to Karl’s and couldn’t. Maybe I was smart and threw it away.”

  “I’m sure you did.” Amber wasn’t sure at all. She’d never tell Betsy, but if Darryl really had broken into her home and taken the photo, the worst part wasn’t the theft. Now Darryl knew she had a son, and one who looked like him. Will’s resemblance to the Hawken family was unmistakable.

  Almost as bad, Darryl knew what she looked like, or had looked like when the photo was taken two years ago. Her hair had been blonder and shorter. She thought she’d been wearing a cap in the photo, and maybe, with luck, sunglasses. But no matter how she was dressed, it was clear she no longer looked like the Goth girl Billy had fallen in love with.

  Betsy couldn’t be fooled. She began to cry, small tidy sobs that still broke Amber’s heart. “Do you think... Do you think Darryl was driving the car that hit me?”

  Amber swallowed her own sobs, determined not to upset Betsy even more. “Do you?”

  “Why would he attack me? Wouldn’t...wouldn’t he want to know what I know?”

  Amber tried to imagine the scenario. Now that Darryl knew Amber and Betsy were in touch, he would be sure of two things. One, if Betsy knew Amber’s whereabouts, she would never reveal them, no matter how much pressure he applied. And two, if he managed to find and dispose of Amber and her son, eventually Betsy would contact someone in authority, a sheriff in another county or the FBI, and tell what she knew. Most likely no one would believe her, not unless bodies were discovered, but why would Darryl take that chance?

  A better strategy? Get rid of Betsy first, preferably outside Croville County. Betsy was a fixture in Chaslan with dozens of friends, and if she disappeared mysteriously while she was there, the whole town would search.

  Amber had to alert her friend without scaring her to death. “It’s hard for a normal person to think the way he does. But since we don’t know? Please don’t go home, okay? Stay with Karl or stay with friends, preferably somewhere outside West Virginia at least for a little while.”

  “I can’t impose on people that way.”

  “How many have imposed on you? Time to ask your friends for help. Isn’t there somebody who’s been begging you to visit?”

  “Well, but—”

  “Stay with Karl until the doctor gives you the okay to leave town. Then visit the friend who lives farthest away. Tell them you’re still a little unsteady on your feet and you need people around. They’ll be delighted to have your company. Later we can figure out what should come next.”

  “You really think it was him, don’t you?”

  “Paranoia is a normal state of mind for me, but we can’t take chances. I think we need to assume he has the photo and probably figures you know what happened all those years ago.” She steeled herself to say what had to be said. “If that’s true, then he’s going to feel a lot safer if you’re out of the picture. And I don’t mean visiting friends. I mean permanently.”

  “I hope you’re wrong.”

  “Will you do it anyway? Will you get out of town and not tell anyone where you are except Karl? And tell him not to tell anyone, either?”

  “He’ll want to know why.”

  “Tell him you need time and space to recover and don’t want people fussing over you. That sounds like you.”

  Betsy didn’t sound happy, but she didn’t argue. “I have a new cell phone. Karl bought it for me after the accident. Mine was...destroyed. He changed my number because I was getting so much spam at the old one. I have it somewhere.” The call went silent a minute, and then she returned and dictated the new number to Amber.

  “You’ll stay in touch?” Betsy asked after she’d finished. “He won’t have that number. He couldn’t.”

  Something as minor as privacy laws would never stop Darryl Hawken, but Betsy already had enough to worry about. Amber just hoped she followed her advice. “I’ll call. Or a friend of mine will call you. I’ll be Sue Simpson.”

  “You’re not a Sue. Amber suits you.”

  Amber thought it did, too. She hoped she didn’t have to change it again in the future. “I’m going to let you rest now. Don’t work so hard in physical therapy that they let you leave too soon. You said you have roommates?”

  “There’s always somebody around. It’s annoying.”

  “It’s safer that way. Try to stay as long as you can.”

  “You stay
safe, too.”

  “Sending my love.” Amber disconnected and rested her head on the back of the sofa.

  She wondered what she should do next. She had the same internal conversation she’d been having with herself for years. She could run. Again. Still. But would running accomplish anything except more disruption in Will’s life? Darryl had a photo, but hopefully he didn’t know more. Maybe, if she was lucky, he thought she was living in the mountains.

  What did he know that really mattered? Amber had a son, and judging by Will’s features and general age, Darryl would know he was family.

  Darryl wouldn’t care that Will was related. Darryl would see him as a threat, a boy, almost a man, who might stalk him in the future and right the wrongs of history. Darryl wouldn’t tolerate that possibility.

  Wasn’t she safer right where she was? At least until Will finished school? Surely she wasn’t putting anybody else in danger the way she’d put Betsy in danger by sending her the photo.

  She wished she could tell Travis or Cassie, ask for their advice and follow it. She wished that just once, she could share this awful burden.

  41

  AFTER LEAVING MANHATTAN ON MONDAY, Cassie took the subway, then a bus to New Jersey to confront Ivy. While she felt shaky and disoriented after everything she’d learned, the trip gave her time to begin making sense of it. Cassie finally understood why no one from Church Street had offered comfort after Mark’s death. The problem of what to do about an addicted colleague was solved. They no longer had to second-guess their actions. They could bury what they had done—along with Mark—and move on.

  While she finally had closure with Valerie, their conversation had opened deeper wounds. She would have to come to terms with the way she had allowed Mark to set the rules in their marriage. Maybe if she’d been accustomed to standing up for herself, she would have discovered the truth. Mark had struggled with an addiction serious enough to ruin his life, and she, like too many other people in the same situation, had closed her eyes to the signs.