by Mary Carter
“I joke back. I guess you could call it flirting. But there’s no undercurrent.”
“What does that mean?”
“It’s not hidden. There’s no agenda or desire behind it. Everyone at work knows how crazy I am about you.” He took her in his arms again. “Besides. If it was someone who had a crush on me—why did they invite the two of us?”
“Maybe she lured me here to kill me off. Have you all to herself.”
Jake placed his hand over his heart and lowered his voice. “I’m going to need a mourning period.”
“You jerk.” Grace bumped him on the shoulder, and Jake leaned in and kissed her.
Jake held up the tickets to Casa Batlló. “Well, you were just saying you wanted to go.”
“Oh my God. You’re right. Do you think they’re listening to us?”
“Who?”
Carrie Ann. “The mysterious bride and groom.”
“You’re joking, right?”
“No. I think we should sweep for bugs.”
“The only bugs we know how to sweep for are the creepy, crawly kind. Even then—they usually get away.”
“You’re the one who insists we scoop them up and take them outside.”
“I’m a vet. First, do no harm. Or first—do not squash.”
Grace lowered her voice to a whisper. “I think someone is listening to us.”
“Did anybody ever tell you you’re adorable when you’re paranoid?”
“No.”
“That’s because you’re not.” He said it in a normal voice. Grace made a grab for his towel. Jake pinned her hand to his hip with one hand and waved the tickets with his other. “What do you say?” he asked. “I’m up for an exquisite nocturnal drama. You?”
CHAPTER 10
From the moment Grace and Jake entered Casa Batlló, she felt as if they were underwater. Curved, smooth-domed ceilings, cool blue tiles, porthole windows, and walls evoking undulating waves adorned every corner of the house. Grace wanted to take her time and yet race to the roof terrace at the same time. She was sure that was where Carrie Ann would plant her proverbial flag, surveying her territory from above. Grace flipped through the brochure they had handed her upon entering. It was still daylight; the sky would darken in about an hour. Grace wanted to be early. She wanted to see Carrie Ann first, ease into it, try and control the damage.
The entire back of the house was indeed built to resemble a dragon, with its prehistoric tiled spine arching to an apex on the roof and dropping down the back wall of the house. There was also a room on the roof terrace where you could go inside, close the door, and be treated to shadows lit by the illuminated fountain in the floor. The Dragon’s Belly. It was supposed to induce a meditative state. Grace could use all the meditation she could get right now.
“It’s like we’re in a giant conch shell,” Jake said as they passed through the Noble Floor. Besides mosaic tiles and marble, the woodwork was so rich and smooth that it too almost looked like it belonged under the sea. Wood was also used above numerous doorways, showcasing ornate patterns of interspersed glass and tile, arranged in irregular oval shapes, like seashells. Dripping chandeliers hung in every main room, and stairways curved upward in a sensuous S. It was a drunkard’s delight, not a straight line in sight. Some of the ceilings actually swirled in, like mini tidal waves. It was almost impossible to comprehend the mind behind this masterpiece. Suddenly, it made Grace feel very small, and yet emboldened at the same time. This genius wasn’t designing from a place of pain; the marvels around her, down to the tiniest fixtures, could only have been created from an overwhelming outpouring of joy. Imagine a Marsh Everett equivalent saying that Gaudí would be “soon forgotten.” How foolish.
Not that she was comparing herself to the genius. But still. There was a place where joy existed, and she was standing in it. Although ironically the street on which the house sat was known as the “block of discord.” Manzana de la Discordia. One of the wealthiest streets in Spain. Homeowners used to pull out all the stops to outdo each other. Each one hired a better architect until it all ended with Gaudí’s pulling off the transformation of Casa Batlló. Nobody dared to outdo this one. Resistance is futile, Grace thought. She linked arms with Jake. “Maybe the mystery couple is waiting on the roof,” he said.
Great minds think alike. Except there’s no mystery, and there’s no couple. “Ready to jump off after they say their vows?” Grace said. And just like that, she imagined Carrie Ann’s body falling off the roof.
“Fire-breathing start to a life together,” Jake said.
Grace twirled his words around in her head. They would make nice song lyrics. I’d slay a fire-breathing dragon for you. . . .
“You’re composing in your head,” Jake said.
“How did you know that?”
“You get this certain look on your face.” Jake smiled. He leaned in and kissed Grace on the nose. “I love that look.” Grace made a faint roaring noise. “Was that supposed to be a dragon?” Jake said.
“You do know me.”
“Don’t do it again.” Grace laughed, and her voice echoed down the cavernous hall. He was holding on to her, and not lagging behind, or racing up ahead. She was going to have to lose him on the roof.
The minute they opened the doors to the terrace, Grace was hit with a rush of air. As cool as the interior of the house was, there was something slightly claustrophobic about it, like being inside a submarine. But the roof terrace was expansive, and the sky was just starting to tint orange overhead, and the mosaic tiles glittered in the drowsy remains of the sun. Tables were being set up for the evening extravaganza, and a small orchestra was warming up. Waiters bustled around with vases of blood-red roses and crisp white-linen tablecloths. Visitors without tickets for Magic by Night were politely being told it was time to leave. Grace was relieved that those with tickets were allowed to stay and watch the sun set. Soon all the little lights around the roof would be lit, and the dragon house would indeed become a thing of magic.
Ahead, just to the left, people were filing in and out of a small door. Otherwise, Grace would have missed it, for the doorway blended into the wall like a chameleon. Hidden in plain sight. “That must be the meditation room,” Grace said. The Dragon’s Belly. Ironic. Grace’s insides felt just like a dragon’s belly. Carrie Ann, are you here? Grace wouldn’t miss finding out for anything in the world, although a very big part of her was desperate to flee.
“It’s surreal, isn’t it? Hard to imagine someone with this much talent and imagination.”
As soon as Jake said “imagination,” an image popped into Grace’s head. Carrie Ann had once hung a hundred red ballet slippers from the branches of the tree house. It was the prettiest thing Grace had ever seen. She had thought Carrie Ann was a genius. She had been a thief too; apparently she’d been stealing them from a local ballet class and hoarding them away for the past year while she dyed them red. The things she pulled off really did seem like magic.
Where are you, Carrie Ann? Are you here?
“Jake. Don’t hate me.”
“What’s wrong? You look sick. Are you sick?”
“Yes. No. I have to tell you something.”
Jake’s cell phone rang, slicing through her words. Jake glanced at the screen. “It’s Dan.”
Grace nodded. She should have told him he didn’t need to answer. She should have told him exactly who was doing this. And she definitely should have told him she was probably very, very near.
“I’ll meet you back here.” Jake walked to a private corner of the terrace. Interesting, he wanted to be alone for the call. Now who had something to hide? Grace had probably made him paranoid that some woman from work was obsessed with him. She shouldn’t have led him to believe that. She’d made mistake after mistake. Just like she had always done when Carrie Ann was around.
Grace stood for a moment watching him. Part of her wanted to stay glued to Jake’s side and to the conversation. Instead, she turned and headed for the Dr
agon’s Belly. Jake would tell her everything soon enough. She filed in past several people and soon found herself in a concrete room with shadows playing along the walls and ceiling. When they were full to capacity, the door shut. The faint sound of dripping water and classical music accompanied the light and shadow show. Grace took a few deep breaths. It was damp inside, like a cave. Soon, between the wisps of light dancing along the walls, and the low, soothing sounds, Grace began to feel lighter and lighter. She started paying attention to her breaths, purposefully making them deep and slow.
But just when she thought she was going to actually relax all the way, Grace felt a swoosh of air along the back of her head, and suddenly a hand was pressing into the small of her back, nudging her forward. One by one the little hairs on her arm stood up. She would not be afraid. She would not let Carrie Ann make her come unglued. Grace whirled around and was just about to grab on to whoever had touched her, when she saw a stricken young Spanish woman in front of her. “¡Despensi! ¡Perdoni!” she said, and pointed to a little girl who was hanging on to her hand, straining to get to the door, tears dripping down her cheeks. Grace knew exactly how she felt.
“Sorry, sorry,” Grace said. She backed out of the way. The walls felt like they were closing in. Like that scene in Star Wars she could never watch, where the garbage compactor or elevator or whatever they were in was getting smaller and smaller, while the drip grew louder and louder. She had to get out. Just like the little girl, Grace had to get out.
Grace scooted to the door, determined to appear helpful. She turned the doorknob and pulled. The door didn’t open. She pulled harder. It was stuck. She twisted the knob, leaning her entire body into it to give it weight. Then she pulled again.
“It’s stuck,” she yelled.
“Shhhh,” echoed through the room. The mother reached around her, turned the knob, and easily pulled the door open. She gestured for Grace to go out first. Feeling ashamed that she was getting out before the crying child, but not wanting to prolong the ordeal, Grace stumbled onto the roof, then bent over and took short breaths. The child stared at her as the mother dragged her away, tears gone, now straining to keep looking back at Grace. Claustrophobia. She hadn’t had it in years. She had thought she was over it. Letting in thoughts about Carrie Ann must have stirred something in her subconscious. Carrie Ann had once locked Grace in their hall closet. It had only been for an hour, but it had felt like all day. By the time Carrie Ann had let her out, Grace had broken into hives and thrown up in a pair of polka-dotted rain boots.
Grace lifted her head and immediately scanned the terrace for Jake. This trip wasn’t going to work out. They would be on the first plane home. He was no longer in the corner where he had taken the phone call. She didn’t see him anywhere. Had he come into the little room without her knowing? Had he left the roof without telling her? No. He would never do that. Unless reception had been bad on the roof and he had to go somewhere else?
The orchestra began to play. Laughter and clinking glasses echoed throughout the terrace. Grace took a deep breath and smoothed her hair. She couldn’t look panicked. Everyone was so well dressed. Beautiful fabrics, and heels, and men in tuxedos and soft gray suits, and women with gorgeous legs. Grace had worn her best dress, a tight blue number, and although she was in no danger of being kicked out, she was well out-fashioned.
She dug through her purse. She had left her cell phone at home. Wait. Did she even have her own key? She was starting to regret following Jake’s advice on leaving her valuables at home. She combed through her purse once more. No key. Jake had to be here. He would never just leave her here. Had he somehow been lured away? Before she could tell him about Carrie Ann?
Grace traversed the roof all the way back to the door leading into the house. She turned just as a waiter paused in front of her with a full tray of champagne. At his nod, she took a glass. Just as she moved away, she saw a tall, blond woman standing in the middle of the roof deck. She stood out like a beacon in a stunning red dress. Her hair flowed just past her shoulders in soft waves. She was scanning the crowd. Grace couldn’t move; she couldn’t breathe. Carrie Ann’s eyes finally landed on Grace and locked in. Grace stilled as she took in her estranged friend. She would have recognized her anywhere. She was an older version of the coltish blond hellion Grace had known, but Carrie Ann still had the same freckles on her nose, the same long blond hair, the same look in her eye that suggested she was the keeper of everyone’s secrets. The sun had set; the lights were twinkling all around the roof. It was her. It was Carrie Ann.
She did not make a move toward Grace, but a smile lit up her face. If the sky had opened up and struck Grace with a bolt of lightning, she wouldn’t have been half as shocked. It was as if Carrie Ann had sent a surge of electricity through the rooftop terrace. Grace wanted to launch into Carrie Ann’s arms, and she equally wanted to turn and flee. The ambivalence rendered her immobile. A hand touched her waist. She jumped.
“Hey.” It was Jake. Grace still couldn’t move. She couldn’t take her eyes off Carrie Ann. “Grace?” He turned her around. Concern flooded his eyes as he searched her face. “What’s wrong?” Reluctantly, Grace took her eyes off Carrie Ann. She should never have lied to Jake. It was too late now.
“I—I was looking for you,” Grace said. Her voice was barely a whisper.
“I just spoke with Dan.”
“And?”
“He said it was a girl who called him.” Jake waited. Grace made a conscious effort not to allow any emotion to show on her face. She was getting a second chance to tell the truth. “Any idea who that might be?”
Carrie Ann was here. Just a few feet away, staring at her. A sister of sorts. Whom Jake knew nothing about. Grace couldn’t get the words out. It was too late. Too late. “What?” Grace said.
“Is there any reason—any reason at all—that some woman would say she was your sister?”
“Not a real sister,” Grace said. She whispered it, because for all she knew Carrie Ann was moving closer. Grace didn’t want to look. Act normal. Say hello to Carrie Ann. Greet her like you would greet any old childhood friend.
“So who is she?” Jake said. And then, he seemed to sense Carrie Ann’s presence, or maybe like Grace he felt her, and he turned and he saw her. She had moved closer. Just a few feet, but close enough to see her clearly. She looked eerily beautiful—an ethereal angel in a devil’s dress. There was almost a pleading in her eyes. Grace had hurt her feelings by not acknowledging her. Think, Grace thought. Think. How could she make any of this right? Even better—how could she make any of this go away? Jake stared at Carrie Ann, who flashed him one of the biggest smiles Grace had ever seen. Oh, how Carrie Ann used to get away with murder whenever she used that smile.
You haven’t changed, Grace thought. And you still have some kind of hold over me. Grace didn’t like it, and she could literally feel Carrie Ann’s presence weighing her down. But then, just like that, Carrie Ann’s face softened, almost as if she were afraid of Grace, and instantly Carrie Ann was that wounded little girl standing in Grace’s doorway, scowling and clutching her vinyl flowered suitcase. Grace’s heart broke open. She stumbled forward. “Carrie Ann,” she said. She still couldn’t raise her voice above a whisper.
“Hi, Gracie,” Carrie Ann whispered back. Without warning, Grace felt a lump in her throat, and tears invade her eyes. She bit the side of her mouth to keep from crying. Carrie Ann noticed it though, swooped up the information, and then threw her arms around Grace. Jake took the champagne glass out of Grace’s hand seconds before it would have smashed on the ground. Carrie Ann smelled good, like vanilla and lemon, and she held Grace tight. “Finally,” Carrie Ann was saying over and over again. “Finally.”
Grace opened her eyes and saw Jake standing behind Carrie Ann. He was totally confused. And dare she say—hurt? Grace pulled away. “Jake,” she said, turning to him. “This is Carrie Ann.” Jake held out his hand, but instead Carrie Ann threw herself into his arms and hugged him the sam
e way she’d just hugged Grace. Claiming everyone around her, just like she always did. Jake soon pulled away and looked at Grace.
“I’m her sister,” Carrie Ann said. She looked at Grace. Your turn. Challenging Grace. Was she going to refute it?
“Carrie Ann was my foster sister,” Grace said.
“I thought you said your parents took in all boys,” Jake said.
Carrie Ann grabbed Jake’s hand and put it on her breast. “They’re real,” she said. Jake removed his hand as quickly as possible and threw Grace another look.
“This trip?” he said to Carrie Ann. “Was this you?”
“Surprise,” Carrie Ann said. “Not just foster sister, Grace.”
Grace opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
“How so?” Jake said.
“Blood,” Grace said. It came out in a whisper.
“Sisters by Choice,” Carrie Ann said. “We cut our fingers with a knife. We pressed our blood together. We took a vow. SBC forever.”
“We’re not twelve anymore,” Grace said. She surprised herself by saying it out loud, carried by a flash of anger.
“SBC,” Jake said. “The card.” He looked at Grace. She looked back without blinking. “You knew?” he said. You lied, he meant.
“I wondered,” Grace said. I lied.
“Are you getting married?” Jake asked Carrie Ann.
“Are you proposing?” Carrie Ann shot back. Grace took Jake’s hand and gave it an I’ll-tell-you-everything-later squeeze. He didn’t squeeze back. Carrie Ann reached out and took Grace’s other hand. Carrie Ann used to do this with Stan. She would grab his hand and then Grace’s hand, as if sealing the three of them together forever. Grace used to absolutely loathe feeling his clammy, chubby hand in hers. The thought made Grace drop both hands. Her temple began to throb along with the pulse of the crowd.