“Well, don’t just stand there and pretend you’re innocent. Answer me!”
The uncertainty vanishes when she says that. Ever since I’ve lived with Aunt Grace, I’ve tried to do what she told me to do. I’m grateful she’s been here to raise me. I’ve always trusted her. But that trust was destroyed today.
I grab my purse out of the truck and slam the door. “You want to know where I’ve been? I visited an old friend of Dad’s today. Remember John Miller?”
For a moment, Aunt Grace continues to glare at me, but then my question sinks in. Her jaw drops and she lets out a small gasp. “How did you find out about him?”
“I saw him in those pictures of my father that you hid from me.”
Understanding dawns on her face. “You were in the attic last week.” She closes her eyes while trying to steady her breathing. When she opens her eyes again, she asks, “And where did you go to meet John?”
My heart is doing a wild dance in my chest. How I hate this. Hate. It. I have to make myself say, “Bridger and I went to Covington. That’s where Mr. Miller lives now.”
“You went where?” Aunt Grace asks, each word climbing in pitch. “Good grief! I can’t believe you two did this to me. I trusted both of you and this is the thanks I get.”
“Don’t blame Bridger. He felt sorry for me because he knows what it’s like to not have your father there for you. I asked him to help me.”
“It doesn’t change the fact that both of you lied to me,” she snaps.
“Like you’ve been lying?”
Aunt Grace crosses the short distance between us, getting all in my personal space. I step back and bump against the truck.
“What have you done?” she whispers.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Think of the consequences. What if this does something to you?”
“How can finding out about my past hurt me? It seems like you’re the one who’s afraid to find out. That or you don’t want me to know.”
“What exactly did John tell you?”
“He said my father died in 1994, which doesn’t add up since I was born in ’97.”
She shakes her head. “John never really had it together. He must’ve mistaken Nate for someone else.”
“Oh no, don’t even try that. He was adamant. I showed him a few pictures I found, and he still said I couldn’t be Nate Walker’s daughter.”
“That’s crazy!”
“Is it? Or is there another reason you’re lying? Did you kidnap me?”
“Alora, how can you say that?”
“Why don’t we go to the police department? I bet they’ll help me find the truth.” The look on Aunt Grace’s face makes me feel awful. It’s shock, anger, and something else. I expected fear, but it’s different. The look is so sad that I instantly regret everything I said.
“How did I let this happen?” Aunt Grace groans, covering her face with her hands. She doesn’t speak for a while. I want to scream at her to say something, but then I realize she’s crying. Her shoulders shake as muffled sniffles come from her. I’ve never seen her cry before, and I don’t know what to do. Should I try to comfort her? Or should I just leave her alone?
I settle for taking her by the arm and leading her to the porch, where we sit on the steps. “I didn’t lose my mind after talking to Mr. Miller. Don’t you think I deserve to know the truth now?”
She wipes the tears away with the back of her hand. “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t know how you’d take it. Whatever happened to you must’ve been bad and I didn’t want you to relive it again. And . . . Nate also asked me not to tell you.”
Hearing her last sentence makes my insides grow cold. I swallow a few times and wait for her to continue. But Aunt Grace sits quietly and stares into the space ahead of her, like she’s seeing what happened in the past.
Finally, she begins. “Nate enlisted in the army straight out of high school. At the time we thought it was the best thing he could’ve done since he used to get in lots of trouble. Skipping classes, staying out late doing God knows what. Anyway, when he was twenty-four, he was on an assignment in Iraq, and the truck he was riding in drove over a land mine.” She draws a ragged breath. “John was riding in another truck behind Nate. He told me later that he saw Nate’s truck explode. We were told that there were no survivors.”
I remember Mr. Miller’s reaction when he said that Dad had died in 1994. His face was twisted in anger, but his eyes told a different story. They held a haunted look, as if the memory was heartbreaking.
“So I was shocked when Nate showed up in 2002, on my birthday of all days. I was sitting on the river dock feeling sorry for myself. By that time Mama, Daddy, and Darrel were all dead. Nate scared the crap out of me because I didn’t even see him walk up. I remember thinking that I’d finally lost my mind.” She gives a harsh laugh. “But he was real. Of course, I wanted to know what happened, but he said it was classified. All he would say was that he had new life and that he just needed to see me for a little while. We ended up talking for hours like he’d never even left. When he said he had to go, it nearly broke my heart. He promised me he’d be back next year, on my birthday. And sure enough, he kept his word.”
She falls into silence again, this time not saying anything for a long time. I begin to get impatient and figure I’d better prompt her before she decides to end her story there.
“I don’t understand. If he had this whole new life and everything was classified, why did he leave me with you?”
Aunt Grace stares at her hands, clenching and unclenching them on her lap. “That’s the weird part. He didn’t even mention you when he visited that first time, but when he came the next year, he was so excited. He said he’d finally gotten away from whoever was holding him to that mission, and he was gonna bring his family to live close by. I was so happy for him. Darrel and I never had any kids, so imagine how I felt when I found out I had a niece.”
“He didn’t tell you he was going to bring me?”
“No, and what’s really weird is he came twice that day. The first time was in the afternoon, when he told me about you and his plans. Then that night he showed up again at the house. You were unconscious. And he looked like he’d been through hell. He said you and your mom had been attacked and he only had time to get you away. He said he was gonna leave you with me so he could get back and find out what happened to her.”
“So he came back later?”
She frowns. “No. He just told me to take care of you. And before he left, he gave me a key. He said it was to a safety deposit box and to only open it if he didn’t come back. I begged him to tell me what happened, but he wouldn’t. He made me promise I’d never tell you what little I knew. That’s the last time I saw him.”
I try to swallow, but my mouth is bone dry.
“So, that’s everything,” Aunt Grace says. She stands and holds out her hand to me. I grasp it and let her pull me up. “I’m sorry I kept the truth from you, but I did it because that’s what Nate wanted. Whatever happened to you and your mama must’ve been horrible. Horrible enough that you buried that memory deep in your mind. And knowing my brother, he’d rather you not remember.” She takes my other hand and folds them into her own. “Sweetie, I’d never do anything to intentionally hurt you. You’re the only family I have left. I’d do anything to protect you.”
I can’t form words. I stare back at Aunt Grace, unsure of what I’m feeling. For the first time, I understand why she lied to me. And as much as I hate it, I don’t blame her.
I don’t even know how to begin to process what she told me. My life could be the plot of a movie. The only thing missing is an evil madman and then it would be perfect.
“Are you okay?” Aunt Grace asks in a quiet voice.
“I think so,” I say, remembering something else she said. “You mentioned a safety deposit box. Where was it?”
“It was in Atlanta.”
“What was in it?”
A thick pause follows. “It didn’t reveal any more information about what Nate had been doing for all those years. It just had papers I’d need to take care of you. Your birth certificate, social security card, things like that.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
“Can I see them?”
Aunt Grace lets my hands go and sighs. “Really, they’re just legal documents, nothing you’d need to examine for yourself. I have them stored for safekeeping.”
“Can you at least tell me my mother’s name?”
“Sure,” she says softly. “It’s Addie. But don’t bother trying to find any information on her. I’ve already searched and I couldn’t find anything.”
I wonder if she’s lying again. Probably. But instead of accusing her, I paste on a smile and hug her. “I’m so sorry for lying to you and sneaking off today.”
“I’m sorry for not telling you what I knew.” Aunt Grace gives me a squeeze then pulls back. “I guess we’re even, huh?”
“Yeah, I suppose so.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, ma’am. I have a part of my life back.”
“I’m sorry I don’t know more. I still hope Nate will come back one day.”
“Me too.”
“Well, let’s try to put all this behind us for the time being. We can’t sit around waiting for him or your mom to show up. We’ve got to live our lives or we’ll drive ourselves crazy.”
I follow Aunt Grace inside, thinking she’s right. Already I feel better, like the pieces of my past are clicking into place. But I’m still not completely satisfied, and I won’t be until I have the whole picture.
My parents wouldn’t want me to mope around, mourning the loss of the life I should’ve led, but that doesn’t mean I have to stop looking for more answers. Because I know Aunt Grace, and there’s no good reason for her to keep those papers from me if they’re really just legal documents.
She’s hiding something else.
27
BRIDGER
APRIL 21, 2013
A silver stream of moonlight illuminates my bedroom. The clock reads 12:03. Alora should be here soon. She wants to make sure Grace is asleep before we sneak downstairs. She’s positive Grace is keeping something else from her. And she’s sure whatever it is will be in the safe hidden in the study.
After Alora told me what Grace admitted, I thought I’d wild out. What if the military in this time had discovered people with Talents exist? Could that have been what Alora’s father was doing with them? But that doesn’t make sense. From everything I learned at the Academy, the governments of the world didn’t even know about Talents until scientists began genetically modifying people. In the past, natural-borns kept their abilities a secret.
A soft tapping tears me out of my thoughts. I jump off the bed and open the door.
Alora is dressed in a robe and slippers. It’s hard to see any color in the dim hallway, but the robe is definitely something pale. She appears almost angelic in the surrounding darkness.
I’ve got to quit thinking like that.
“Are you okay?” she asks, cocking her head to the side.
“I’m fine,” I say quickly. “It’s just . . . I didn’t realize you’d be dressed like that.”
Alora seems startled, glancing down at her robe, then smirks. “Oh, you think what I’m wearing is silly? What about you, Mr. Military? If Aunt Grace catches us downstairs, I’m sure she’ll wonder why you’re dressed like that.”
She’s right. I’m wearing my uniform. I figured if I needed to hide, the best way would be to use the cloaking device. But I can’t tell Alora that. Instead, I grin and say, “Well, it’s better than wearing what I usually sleep in.”
Alora’s eyes flick to my chest. I wonder if she’s blushing because she’s remembering me in my Skivvies. And that makes me grin.
“Well, wear whatever you want. Just stay quiet.” She marches away from me, using her phone to light the area ahead of her. I close my door and hurry to catch up to her.
Downstairs, Alora stops at the closed study door in the hallway across from the kitchen. She pulls a small bobby pin out of her robe pocket and holds her phone out to me. “Keep the light on the handle, okay?”
My fingertips barely brush against her skin as I take the phone from her. But it’s like a jolt from a stunner, minus the pain. I jerk my hand back, thinking I’m seriously going to wild out if I stay in this time much longer. I can’t do this. I can’t develop any feelings for Alora. She’s not Vika, she’s a ghost. Nothing more.
Alora rubs her hand before inserting the pin in the doorknob. “Can you hold the light steady? This isn’t easy.”
“I thought you were good at picking locks.”
“I’ve only done this twice, and both times were during the day. So excuse me if I’m not fast enough for you.”
For a moment I’m worried she’s irritated with me, but then a corner of her mouth curves up. I concentrate on her lips while she works. As soon as she stops smiling, she bites the bottom lip. Then she licks it.
I have to look away.
Finally, I hear a small click and a triumphant, “Yes.”
Alora locks the study door once we’re inside and flips the light switch. The room is painted a smoky shade of blue. It’s doesn’t have much room for furniture. Just an antique desk in front of the lone window, two narrow bookcases stuffed with books on either side of a fireplace, and a comfortable-looking chair in the corner.
“Over here.” Alora crosses over to the closest bookshelf and glides one hand along the side of the dark wood. “Last year Aunt Grace decided to tell me where she keeps her important paperwork in case something ever happened to her. She’d been to the doctor because of chest pains. Turns out it was caused from anxiety.” She lowers her gaze, as if the memory is painful. “Anyway, she said there’s a wall safe back here.”
“Do you know the combination?”
“Yeah, it’s her wedding anniversary. So all we have to do is move this.”
I eye the bookshelf. “Did she show you exactly how to get in there?”
“No, she just said I’d have to punch in the numbers on a keypad.”
Seems easy enough. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned, things that should be easy rarely are. I position myself next to Alora and grasp the side of the bookshelf above her. “You move from the bottom while I get the top. Ready?”
“Yes,” she says in a breathy voice. I nearly let go of the shelf. She sounded so much like Vika.
I swear I’m losing it.
But I push on. Even with Alora helping, the shelf doesn’t want to move. It takes a few minutes, inching it slowly, before we have it out far enough to expose the safe.
“I can’t believe I’m nervous,” Alora says as she kneels in front of the safe. She trails her fingers over the keypad and looks back up at me. “What if there’s something really bad in here? I mean, she said my dad wouldn’t want me to know.”
I kneel next to her and place my hand on her shoulder. I understand what she’s feeling. It’s mixture of excitement and dread when you realize what you’re about to learn could change everything. That’s how I felt just before I read the info on Dad’s DataDisk. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “It’s normal to feel like that. But you know what? If you back off and don’t open that safe, you’ll regret it. You’ll wonder every day what’s in there.”
“I know,” she says. “It’s just . . . it’s kind of surreal.”
She looks away from me before I can answer and punches the code on the keypad. I hold my breath.
Nothing happens.
Alora frowns and punches the code again.
Still nothing.
“Come on!” She tries the code again.
“You said the code was Grace’s anniversary, right?” I ask.
“Yeah. June 26, 1996 was the date she got married.”
“So you’re putting in 6, 26, 96?”
“Yeah, I tried that. Le
t me try zero six instead,” she says. Her fingers fly over the keypad.
Nothing.
Alora bangs her fist on the side of the safe. “I don’t understand. She said it was her anniversary. What if she changed the combination?” She leans her forehead against the wall and mutters, “Just freaking great.”
I rub the back of my neck, thinking. That doesn’t seem right for Grace to change the combination without telling Alora. Especially if she wanted Alora to have access to it in case of an emergency. “What about trying the numbers in reverse order?”
Alora punches in the numbers again. This time the light next to the keypad glows green. Alora presses her palm against her chest and murmurs, “Yes.”
I blow out the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
Then she opens the door.
My heart pounds as I peer over her shoulder. A tall stack of envelopes rests on top of some folders. But on the very top is a polished wooden box. Alora removes it first.
I move out of the way so she can scoot out from behind the bookshelf. She places the box on her lap and flips the lid open. I want to go over and nose through whatever’s in there myself, but I make myself wait. This is stuff from her father.
Alora lifts out a paper and studies it. “This is my birth certificate,” she says, glancing up. “My mom’s name is Addie. At least Aunt Grace didn’t lie about that. And I was born in Denver. Weird, huh? Wouldn’t it be cool if my parents knew your parents?”
I just smile.
Alora sets her birth certificate on the floor and thumbs through the rest of the papers. “These are old medical records. I wonder why my dad wanted to keep them from me. It doesn’t make sense.” She lets out a heavy sigh, but then her eyes grow huge. I wonder if it’s a pic of her family. She extracts the object of her attention.
And for a moment I forget to breathe again.
Alora is holding a delicate silver chain with a pendant featuring a smooth black stone. It’s something I’ve seen before, when Professor March lectured about contraband tech in my time—a Jewel of Illusion.
The Edge of Forever Page 18