"I hate to do this to you, brother. But it hurts too damn much. It was my fault. I don't deserve to live," I said.
"Then why are you alive?" Xander asked, his voice smooth and gentle, like a lullaby. My mom used to sing me lullabies when I was a little kid and couldn't sleep. Of course, my mom had also stood by while my dad tried to set me on fire. But I wouldn't think of that. I couldn't. My shoulders sagged and I felt the wetness on my face as a breeze blew by.
"You know what I think? I think you're alive because you're meant to be alive. For some reason, you're meant to be here. You're the only person who made it out of Acadia that day. The only one. And I, for one, refuse to believe there's not some purpose to that. I refuse to believe you didn't reach your hand up through that god-awful wreck of water-covered destruction so I could pull you out of there. And I want to help you discover what that reason is, Calder. Take my hand again. Take my hand and let me help you."
I looked over at him, grief sweeping through me even more swiftly. I took another fiery sip of alcohol.
"You carried me for twenty miles on your back once," he said, his voice breaking at the end. "Twenty miles. And if you hadn't, I would have been at Acadia that horrific day, too. I would probably be dead now. Would you have left me that day? Did you leave me that day?"
I frowned at him. "No," I said. "Never."
"Then take my hand. Let me carry you. It's my turn. Don't deny me that. Whatever I have . . ."
"I know," I choked out. I bent my head forward and gave in to the anguish, my shoulders shaking in the silent sobs that wracked my body. When some of it had passed, I whispered miserably, "Fuck." I wiped my sleeve across my face and threw the bottle to the side. I should have gotten myself more drunk, but I didn't have a taste for the shit. "This life feels so damn long," I said after a minute.
"That's because you're hurting, and it seems like it won't ever get better."
"It doesn't get better. It never gets better."
"It will. You have to try. Calder, you have to try."
"I've been trying! For four months, I've been trying."
"It's going to take longer than four months. It just is."
I let out a deep breath and stared out at the sky beyond. It was full of fury, dark, rolling storm clouds moving closer. Soon the whole sky would break open just like me and the rain would fall.
We were both silent for a few minutes, my head swimming. "Any news on the identification of the other bodies?"
"No," Xander said. "You know I'll let you know if there is." Xander watched the news, listened to the reports about Acadia. I couldn't bring myself to.
I nodded my head.
"They still haven't mentioned anyone who made it out?" My voice cracked on the last word.
Xander shook his head, his expression filled with sympathy.
"The footsteps you saw in the mud . . ."
"No, brother. And that could have been . . . just, I don't know. Please, Calder. Take my hand."
I turned away, looking back out to the sky.
Xander watched me for a few minutes and then glanced back at the now-broken bottle of whiskey I'd thrown. "You can't keep numbing things if you want to move forward."
I straightened my spine slowly. "I don't drink to numb things," I said, meeting his eyes. I knew mine were half-lidded and swollen. "I drink because it makes me feel everything more deeply. I drink for the suffering."
Xander stared at me. "Gods above," he muttered, shaking his head. "Then even more reason to stop. You don't deserve that."
"Yeah," I choked out. "I do."
"It wasn't your fault, Calder. None of it was your fault."
I shook my head back and forth not able to form the words in my heart. It was my fault. She wasn't here because I hadn't been able to save her. I'd failed her. And I longed for her so desperately that some days I couldn't even move. The grief felt like it was crushing me, and the only escape I could think of was death. But what if . . .
"What if taking my own life brings me somewhere other than where she is?" I asked, my voice barely rising above the wind.
Xander was silent for a minute. "I don't know if that's how it works. I want to tell you it does so you'll come off this ledge, but you know I'd never lie to you, right? The truth is, I just don't know." He hung his head, but kept his eyes turned upward, glued to me. I looked away, back out toward the sky.
"Calder, I'm not going to say I know what you're feeling, but I'm missing people as well. And Eden was my friend, too."
I let out a harsh exhale and nodded my head. Xander had lost his parents, his sister, his brother-in-law, his friends . . . "I know."
"Let me help you. And please don't leave me totally alone. I'm not saying that to pile on more guilt. I'm just saying that because it's the gods' honest truth. I'd miss the hell out of you and I'd be alone. Please don't do that to me."
I looked over at him, the face that had always been a constant in my life since before I could remember. I breathed out a long, shuddery sigh and reached my hand out to him. He moved slowly, but gripped me so tightly that in that moment, I knew if I lunged myself over, he'd come with me. He wasn't going to let go. I felt the tears start flowing again and we sat that way for a minute, me hanging my head. Finally, I began turning as I let go of Xander's hand and swung my legs around, my feet landing on the solid roof now in front of me. Soft raindrops hit my face, as soft as a caress.
I crossed my arms over my knees, letting my head fall into them. And I cried. Xander moved closer and his hand gripped my shoulder, but he didn't say a word. The rain continued to fall, soaking the back of my T-shirt, running down my neck and mixing with my tears. After a while, my tears dried up and the rain had become nothing but a light mist in the air. I sat up. I stared unseeing at the door that led downstairs to our rat-hole apartment for a little while, and then let out a shaky breath. I was so tired. The alcohol mixed with the ache inside me made me want to sleep. And maybe tonight I could do it without the haunting dreams.
"You know what I'm gonna do tomorrow?" Xander asked.
I shook my head. "With you, there's no telling," I said, swiping my arm across my wet face.
Xander laughed. "There's my boy," he said and I could hear the love in his voice.
"I'm gonna stop into that art supply store I pass every day and I'm gonna buy you some supplies. Maybe painting would help. What do you think?"
I ran my hand back through my wet hair. "I don't know if I could," I said honestly. "It might hurt." I paused. "Then again, everything hurts."
"I'll get the supplies and let you decide, okay?" he said, gripping my shoulder again.
"We really can't afford art supplies," I said.
"Sure we can. I've been meaning to take off a few pounds anyway."
I let out what might have been an imitation of a chuckle and shook my head.
"Come on in," Xander said. "We have two cans of those beans you love so much."
"Oh, God," I said, grimacing, but when he stood, so did I, following him inside, away from the edge, away from Eden, but never away from the ache that lived in my soul and always, always would.
BOOK TWO
Cincinnati, Ohio
"No man or woman born . . . can shun his destiny."
Homer, The Iliad
CHAPTER ONE
Three Years Later
Eden
"Eden? uh, Miss . . . I'm sorry, I don't have your last name written down here." The lawyer, Mr. Sutherland, leafed through the papers in front of him on the desk.
"Yes, what is your last name anyway?" Claire, Felix's daughter, asked sharply. She leaned forward in her chair to look around Marissa to where I was sitting. "I don't think I've ever heard it."
I blinked and snapped back to the present. I had zoned out for a minute, my mind conjuring up the many times I'd tried to engage Claire and her brother Charles in small conversation over the years, even through my anguish, even in spite of the overwhelming grief I was trying to cope with day by seemingly
never-ending day. I had only ever been met with disdain. And now Felix was gone, and here we were, sitting together in his lawyer's office, where we'd been called to collect the last things he'd been working on from his sick bed. My eyes darted to Marissa at the question of my last name. Marissa glanced at the watch on her wrist. "Mister Sutherland, I hate to rush you here, but I know Eden has a lesson and I have another appointment this afternoon."
Mr. Sutherland cleared his throat. "Yes, of course. We're basically done here. Mrs. Forester, I just need you to sign here and my secretary will put a copy of the documents in the mail."
Marissa leaned forward and signed the papers he slid in front of her and then dropped the pen in her purse.
I scooted to the edge of my chair, clutching the large envelope Felix's lawyer had given me, the one with my name written across the front in Felix's handwriting, the bold penmanship that made my heart clench with ache and loss. Oh Felix, I can't believe you're gone.
"Now wait a minute here," Charles, sitting to the right of his sister, said. "What exactly is she getting in that envelope? We need a breakdown of—"
"It's nothing more than a personal letter," Mr. Sutherland said impatiently. "I assure you, Charles. The same thing that's in each of your envelopes." He nodded to the large envelopes Claire and Charles were each holding on their laps.
"All the same, if we could just inspect it—" Charles started.
Mr. Sutherland looked annoyed. "I'm sure Miss," he glanced at me and then back at Charles, "I'm sure Eden would kindly appease you by showing you the contents if it would mean wrapping this meeting up—"
I let out a breath, and stared at the attorney, my heart picking up speed in my chest. This letter was all I had of Felix—I wouldn't let them take it. I didn't even want them to rifle through it. It was mine. Marissa put one hand on my knee.
Like a whisper, it came, as it sometimes did. Be strong, Morning Glory.
I stood up, holding the envelope to me like a life preserver. "No, you may not inspect it," I said just a little shakily. "If you were so interested in your father's personal affairs, you should have asked him while he was still alive. You should have shown up to even one of those Sunday dinners he invited you to, called him back once in a while, spent more than three minutes picking up Sophia after her lesson." I looked pointedly at Claire. "I tried to get to know you. I wanted to be your friend." Hurt overcame me and I paused. "But you weren't interested. And that's okay, I guess. But now, you do not get to inspect this envelope, because although you don't believe it, I loved Felix." I paused again, swallowing down the pain that welled up in my throat, taking in their shocked expressions. I had never once spoken to them this way. I took a deep breath and gentled my voice, but made sure it was strong and clear. "Felix was a father figure to me. You don't know anything about me because you never cared to know, but your father was someone who helped me when I needed it most. You have no idea how much that meant to me, no idea." I looked back and forth between their narrowed eyes and took a deep breath. "The answer is no, you may not inspect this envelope," I repeated.
The lawyer said it contained a personal letter. To someone else, that might not have been much, but it was all I would ever have of Felix. I didn't have a lot, but I had this, and two people who disliked me, who had chosen time and again not to show me an ounce of kindness, were not going to take it away. I hugged it to me more tightly.
"Now hold on a minute here," Claire said, standing up and pointing a finger at me. "You don't know anything about us either. You don't get to stand there and judge us, you little gold digger."
"Claire, Charles—" Marissa started.
"Gold digger?" I repeated, interrupting Marissa, disbelief rolling over me. "I never took a dime from your father that I didn't earn. Not one dime."
Mr. Sutherland stood from his desk. "Everyone, please, these things can get heated, I understand that, but really, let's remember this is about Felix's last wishes. He split his entire estate between you," he nodded to Claire, "and Charles."
Claire and Charles glared at him and then turned their suspicious eyes on me. "Fine," Claire said. "Take your envelope. It's all you'll ever get. And we want you out of our father's house in two weeks. If you wish to continue tutoring Sophia on the piano, you'll do it from somewhere else."
Hurt speared through me and I did my best to tamp it down. I had come a long way in the last three years. I was no longer the unskilled, meek girl who'd arrived broken and hungry on Felix's doorstep. I'd learned that I possessed a little more strength than I'd ever imagined, and I'd gained two friends in Felix and Marissa. Yet somehow, I'd ended up alone. Again.
I pressed my lips together, not willing to rock the boat any more than I already had. I cared very much for Sophia and I didn't want them to take her away from me—even if I did only see her twice a week. I comforted myself with the knowledge that although they disliked me, they knew I was a good piano teacher. Sophia's results spoke for themselves.
Plus, I was desperately going to need the income.
"Well then," Mr. Sutherland said, coming from around his desk, apparently spotting a good opening to shuffle us out of his office. Who could blame him? "Thank you all for coming in. Felix was not only a good client, but a good friend. He'll be missed."
Marissa stood and lowered her eyes and nodded. "Yes, he will," she said, taking my hand and squeezing it as I gave her a small smile. We followed along behind Claire and Charles.
Mr. Sutherland showed us to the door and we said our thanks to him one more time, ignoring each other. Just before he closed the door behind us, I turned and he paused. "Raynes," I said softly. "My last name is Raynes."
Mister Sutherland looked at me quizzically, and then smiled, nodding his head once. "Good day, Miss Raynes."
I nodded at him and turned to Marissa, taking her hand in mine. Claire and Charles were already halfway down the hall in front of us.
**********
Once I was back at Felix's house, on my bed in the room I'd woken up in three years before, hungry and grief-stricken, I opened the envelope, my fingers shaking slightly.
Inside was a manila folder with a letter paper-clipped to the front. It was dated one month earlier, right before he'd become so ill, he was only lucid part of the time.
Eden,
If you're reading this, then I'm gone. I fervently hope me writing this is just a safety measure. I hope I'm able to give you this information myself, but with my health, I have to take precautions. I have to make sure you're not left with nothing. I can't bear the thought of leaving you here with as many questions as you arrived with. I'm not a man who finds it easy to express my emotions, but I want you to know how much I've grown to love and care for you over these past three years. And I like to think you think of me as a father figure and that you've come to care for me as well. This is my attempt at caring for you when I'm no longer there.
I believe your parents' names are Carolyn and Bennett Everson.
I gasped and dropped the folder to my bed. The corners of two eight by ten glossy photos slid out and I stared at them for a second before reaching forward and pulling them all the way out. My heart stopped for a brief millisecond and then took up what felt like an irregular beat in my chest. I lifted the photo on top and gazed at it. It was my mother. I knew it was. Misty images danced through my mind - a ring of laughter, the smell of flowers. That face. It was my face, only older. She's alive? My mother is alive? How? Before looking at the second photo, I snatched Felix's letter back up with shaking hands and read the rest.
I believe you were abducted, Eden. And I have questions only you can answer about why you didn't know that. I hope I can ask you them myself once I'm done gathering all the information I can for you. But as I write this letter, this is all I do have. If I'm gone, I hope it's enough.
I started this investigation a few months ago and when I came across the photo of Eden Everson on the missing children's database, I suspected instantly it was you.
You
r parents reported you missing fourteen years ago. It was all over the news for months, especially sensational because your father was a suspect in the case. He had been involved in a business scandal earlier in the year, and it was speculated he had gotten involved in something that led to your disappearance. He vehemently denied that to his dying day. He took his own life, his note spelled out his innocence and his grief. After your father's suicide, your mother went into hiding. I can only imagine that after everything she'd endured, being in the public eye was too much to bear.
My investigator found her and discovered that in recent years, she'd been re-married and her name is now Carolyn Collins. Her second husband passed away last year. She never had any other children. Her address is in the envelope.
With the help of a good friend who owns Cincinnati Savings and Loan, I've also opened an account in the name Eden Everson. I know that you've saved all the money you've earned from me so you'll be fine until you can get an ID in your real name and access the money I've left for you. It was the only way I considered that wouldn’t involve Claire and Charles.
I only wish I had started this investigation sooner, but you, your music, the smile you put on Sophia's face—on my face—you brought so much light into my home, and I was selfish with you. I wanted to provide comfort and healing—I hope I at least did some of that. I hope I was a temporary shelter in a storm. And now, my dear Eden, it's time for you to continue on your journey. It's time for you to take that brave step out and find your people, find your life, your destiny. I know in my heart it's a beautiful one.
All my love, Felix
Sadness, shock, and hope warred within me. I swiped at the tears running down my cheeks and swallowed the lump in my throat. Felix. You did save me—in so many, many ways I can't even count, I said in my mind, thinking of the scared, emotionally broken girl who had stepped off that bus here in Cincinnati three years earlier. In some ways, I was still that girl, but I had also learned to draw upon the strength Calder had seen in me. I liked to think that somehow he knew and was proud. Somewhere he was looking down and calling me his brave morning glory.
Finding Eden Page 2