This Is How It Happened

by Paula Stokes

  “Shh,” Elliott says. “Just rest.”

  A few more tears trickle down my cheeks, but these ones aren’t from sadness. “Why are you so wonderful?” I ask. “Is this even real?”

  Elliott pinches me gently on the arm. “This is real. My feelings are real.” He brushes my hair back from my neck and presses his lips to my skin.

  A tremor runs through me. “When you said you did bad things, were you just trying to make me feel better?”

  Elliott shakes his head. “I’ve done multiple bad things, but the one thing I’ll always regret has to do with my sister, Monica.”

  I roll back around so we’re facing each other. “I didn’t know you had a sister. Was she also adopted?”

  “Yeah.” Elliott blinks hard. “We grew up in Sacramento. When I was fifteen, Monica moved to New York to join a fancy ballet company. We kept in touch via email, and at first all her messages were happy and excited. She loved New York, she’d made new friends, she was doing well in the company. But after a few months, her messages started to get a lot more negative. She always seemed stressed out, like she worried constantly about getting kicked out of the company. She told me not to tell Garrett and Ezra because she didn’t want them to know she wasn’t happy, or to try to interfere on her behalf. Some of the stories she told me about her exercise requirements and dietary restrictions shocked me, but I figured maybe she was exaggerating—everyone likes to complain about their jobs, right? I told her I couldn’t believe she would put herself through so much just to be a dancer, but that I admired her dedication and perseverance. Whenever she seemed discouraged, I just told her I was proud of her for chasing her dreams. We were all so proud of her.”

  “What happened?” I whisper.

  “She collapsed during a performance. Her heart gave out. Something about massive electrolyte imbalance and muscle wasting from starving herself. She died. I wish I had listened, really listened, instead of just encouraging her to keep going. Then maybe I would have seen she was in actual trouble, that she was reaching out to me, not just griping about her job.”

  “Elliott,” I say softly. “You were fifteen. You didn’t know.”

  “Yeah,” he says. “For the longest time, I didn’t tell my dads about her emails. I was positive they would blame me for her death. My grades dropped. I quit sleeping. They thought it was depression from losing Monica. Eventually my birth mom convinced me to tell them that I was blaming myself, and although there was a lot of shock and pain that day, it was only then that the three of us started to heal.”

  “I am so sorry,” I say. “And I know how inadequate those words are.”

  He nods. “Monica also loved to paint. She had never been to Zion, but a friend sent her a postcard once and she got kind of obsessed with the place. She used to paint it all the time in high school. Garrett and Ezra kept saying we were all going to go, but everyone was so busy that it never happened. After her funeral, the three of us came up here to spread her ashes. And we never left.” He swallows back a lump in his throat. “I never planned on going to college in St. George. Eventually I’ll have to transfer if I want to go to vet school, but it’s . . . hard to leave my family. It’s been over three years, but it still feels raw.”

  I twine my fingers through his. My turn to not let go. For a few minutes, neither of us speaks. Finally I say, “So you talk to your birth mom?”

  Elliott toys with the pendant beneath his collar. “Yeah. It was an open adoption. She lives in Alaska, but we email a lot.”

  “So you’re not mad at her for giving you away?”

  “No. I mean, it hurts to think that my birth was scary and stressful for my own mom. But she had me when she was fifteen. She was living with her mom and they didn’t have much money. Giving me up was the right thing for everyone. How could I possibly hold it against her when I’m nineteen and I’m being raised by two amazing parents with ample resources to support me, and I still can’t imagine trying to be a dad right now.”

  “You are pretty lucky,” I say. “What about your birth dad?”

  “Not in the picture,” Elliott says. “But like I said, I kind of hit the dad jackpot, so I don’t need a third one.”

  “Have you ever met your mom or grandmother?”

  He shakes his head. “My grandmother passed away, but my mom still lives in Anchorage. I definitely want to get up there to visit her someday and hopefully learn more about my Inuit heritage.”

  “Did she give you that?” I point at the deer pendant around his neck.

  He nods. “It’s a caribou. My great-grandmother carved it. It’s one of the only things I have from my mom’s side of the family.”

  “It’s beautiful,” I say, leaning in for a closer look. I swallow back a yawn.

  Elliott yawns. “Sharing secrets is tiring, huh?”

  “It sure is.”

  “But do you feel better?”

  “I do.” I feel depleted, dehydrated from shedding so many tears, but for once my chest has stopped hurting. I can breathe without pain. And muscles I’ve been holding tense for weeks are finally starting to relax.

  “Me too.” He leans over and kisses me on the forehead. “Do you want me to stay?”

  I imagine what it would be like to spend the entire night wrapped in Elliott’s arms, to fall asleep not feeling afraid or ashamed for once. I want that, but I don’t think I deserve it. Not until I tell everyone the truth. “Yes, but that might be pressing our luck with Rachael.”

  “What if I stay until you fall asleep, and then sneak out?”

  I don’t deserve that either, but I can’t resist. “Okay.”

  As I lay my head on Elliott’s chest and let my eyes fall shut, doing the right thing feels a little less scary. If he didn’t condemn me, maybe there are other people out there who will understand why I didn’t come forward. Maybe there are even other struggling people, ones who if they see me do the right thing might find the courage to do the right thing too. This is about more than me and Dallas and Brad Freeman. This is about not being afraid to speak up. This is about making my voice heard.

  CHAPTER 32

  When I wake up the next day, Elliott is gone but my phone is sitting on the other side of my bed, a single text on the screen: I’m still here. His caribou pendant lies next to my pillow. It’s a sweet gesture, but there’s no way I’m keeping it, not after he explained what it means to him. Still, looping the pendant around my neck does make me feel like Elliott is with me in spirit.

  My dad is supposed to be home by early afternoon, but he calls Rachael to let her know he ended up staying late to monitor the patient’s cardiac output for a few hours.

  “He’ll be home by dinnertime,” Rachael promises me.

  “How did the surgery go?” I ask.

  “He said it was over twelve hours long, with different teams scrubbing in and out to tackle different areas of the tumor. He sounded exhausted.”

  “That’s intense,” I say. I hate that I’m going to dump my troubles on him after he’s been working so hard, but the truth can’t wait any longer. It shouldn’t have waited this long.

  I go for a run and then spend the rest of the day pacing back and forth in my room, replaying everything that’s happened since the accident in my mind. Outside, a small parade moves down the main street of Springdale, people on floats throwing candy and waving tiny American flags.

  Dinnertime comes and goes and Rachael calls Dad again, just to make sure he’s okay. She talks to him for a few minutes and then hands the phone over to me.

  “Hey, hon,” he says. “Sorry I’m missing out on the entire holiday. I was hoping I’d be home in time for the parade.”

  “No big deal.” I clear my throat. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

  “Is everything all right?” I can hear the concern in Dad’s voice.

  “Yeah, there’s just something I wanted to talk to you about.” My mouth goes dry.

  “Well, this traffic doesn’t seem as if it’s going to be thinn
ing out anytime soon, so you might as well go for it.”

  “Uh, no. That’s okay. I’ll wait and talk to you when you get home.” I don’t want to distract my dad while he’s driving.

  “Okay. If you’re sure,” he says. “I didn’t schedule any surgeries for tomorrow just in case I got stuck in Salt Lake City, so I’ll reserve my whole morning for you . . . unless you’d rather stay up and wait for me. They’ve apparently closed the highway due to some kind of oil tanker spill, so I’m not sure how long it’ll be before they get the road moving again.”

  “Tomorrow is fine.” There’s no point in canceling on Halley and Elliott just to ambush my dad when he’s exhausted. I’m sure we’ll have to talk to a lawyer before I can make any kind of public statement, and it’s not like we’ll be able to get ahold of one in the middle of the night. I feel a tiny bit of relief that this whole mess is almost over. Soon I’ll be able to tell everyone. Then the Kades can cancel their wrongful death lawsuit. Then I can finally answer that email from Brad Freeman. After tomorrow, we’ll all be able to get on with our lives.

  Elliott picks me up at nine p.m.

  “Tell me again why Halley wants to go to this party so badly?” I ask. I slide into the passenger seat of his truck, checking my hair and makeup in the reverse camera on my phone. I’m still wearing a headband every day. My hair has started to grow back in around my scar, but it’s still only about a half inch long.

  The scar along my cheekbone has faded from a red line to a pink one, and all it takes is a bit of concealer to hide it almost completely. The only thing standing out as unusual about my appearance is the emergence of blond roots at the crown of my scalp. I meant to re-dye my hair, but I haven’t gotten around to it. Hopefully no one will notice them in the dark.

  “I think because her parents are so protective of her they don’t let her go out much. But she’s worked at the park for so long that they don’t mind letting her go to anything that’s an official Zion function.”

  I snort. “A party back by some dark river is an official function?”

  “Hell no,” Elliott says. “But I’m guessing Halley doesn’t get too specific with them when it comes to the logistics.”

  “I get it,” I say. “I’m just nervous because this will be the first time all summer that I’ve been around lots of people.”

  “Everything is going to be fine. Trust me when I say they’re going to be more interested in drinking and fooling around than in trying to figure out who you are.” Elliott pats me on the leg as he turns into the parking lot for the Springdale Family Kitchen. He pulls into an empty spot, grabs his phone from the center console, and taps out a quick text.

  A couple of minutes later, Halley ducks out the front door of the restaurant. She’s wearing a floral sundress that hangs just past her knees, a thin pink cardigan, and her trademark cowboy boots. Her blond hair is braided into two pigtails as usual. She opens the door and hops into the cab next to me. “Ready to party?”

  I force a smile. “Let’s do this.”

  Elliott pulls back out onto the main street of Springdale. A few minutes later, he drives through the entrance to Zion. “I’m surprised you’d want to go to something like this,” I tell Halley. “Won’t there be a lot of people drinking?”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean I have to drink. And there will also be a lot of people listening to music and eating snacks and wading in the river, all things I like to do.”

  “And Nephi will be there, right?” Elliott glances past me to Halley.

  Halley blushes. “His sister said he was hoping to make it. He just got back from his mission last week.”

  “Well, then he’ll definitely be looking for a little fun. Mormon missions are really strict,” Elliott explains to me. “The missionaries have about a million rules they have to follow.”

  “It’s not that bad,” Halley says. “I want to do it someday, but not until I’ve completed a couple years of college.”

  Elliott stays on Zion Canyon Scenic Drive until it ends at a parking area with a shuttle stop marked: #9 Temple of Sinawava.

  “So who’s Nephi?” I nudge her in the ribs as Elliott parks the truck in a spot at the edge of the parking lot.

  “He’s Tazmyn’s older brother. I know him from her house and also from church,” Halley says. “But it isn’t like that.” She shoots Elliott a glare.

  He snickers. “Sure it isn’t. Halley and I started out in the gift shop here together and Nephi was a park guide. Her eyes turned to cartoon hearts whenever he came around.”

  “That was like three years ago, Elliott.” She sticks her tongue out at him. “I’ve grown up a little since then.”

  “Is this guy hot?” I tease.

  “He is sooo dreamy.” Elliott smirks.

  “Quiet, you.” Halley reaches across me to punch him in the leg.

  Elliott grimaces. He cuts the engine to the truck and removes the keys from the ignition. “Let’s go so you can see for yourself, Jen.”

  We follow a group of boys who look a few years older than us down a dark but paved trail that leads out to the Virgin River. The area is partially illuminated by a string of lanterns along the shore. Cottonwood trees cast eerie shadows over the surface of the water.

  The boys in front of us point at a soft glow coming from around a bend in the river. “Over there,” one of them says. They wade into the water, exchanging exclamations about how cold it is.

  “Can you get those boots wet?” I ask Halley.

  “Yep. These old things have been through it all. They’re indestructible.” She points at a pile of thick tree branches near the end of the trail. “Grab a walking stick. It makes it easier to move around in the water.”

  We each take one of the sturdy branches and then wade into the river. The temperature difference between the warm air and the frigid water is enough to make my heart stutter. The water laps gently at my knees, just deep enough to cover the scar on my calf. I pick my way carefully, the bottoms of my tennis shoes slippery against the riverbed’s mossy stones.

  Halley squeals. “Something touched my leg,” she hisses.

  “Probably just a cattail or some kind of weed,” Elliott says. “Or a snake.”

  “What?” I say, freezing mid-step. “There are snakes in here?”

  Elliott laughs. “Just kidding.” He rests one hand on my lower back.

  “The park has a few snakes, but none of them are swimmers,” Halley assures me.

  Ahead of us, one boy is holding his cell phone out in front of him, using the light of his screen to navigate the dark water.

  “Almost forgot.” Elliott pulls a flashlight out of his pocket and directs the beam down at the surface of the water. “See. No snakes.”

  Halley points at the glow from around the bend, which is getting brighter. “We’re almost there.”

  When we come around the bend, I hear music playing. There’s a clearing off to one side of the water—a small beach of smooth pebbles and cast-ashore driftwood. Beyond it, a wall of rock partially covered with moss rises high into the sky. A tinny dance tune emanates from the speaker of a portable music player set safely back from the water. A line of lanterns placed along the edge of the rock wall illuminates a couple of large coolers and about thirty kids standing in small clusters or sitting on various logs. The river continues forward, disappearing into a narrow slot canyon, the red rock cliffs rising hundreds of feet in the air.

  I scan the group of kids. I recognize a few of them—there’s a girl who works the cash register in the Zion Lodge Gift Shop, and two girls I’m pretty sure work the hotel front desk. Away from the main group, three boys stand in a semicircle, their forms all in shadow except for the glow from the end of their cigarettes.

  Halley’s eyes are drawn to a couple of kids sitting on a wide log at the edge of the gathering. “It’s Tazmyn and Nephi,” she says, unable to keep the excitement from her voice. “I’ll be right back.” She drops her walking stick on the ground and picks her way ac
ross the overlapping rocks.

  The two girls hug and Nephi gives Halley a big smile. He scoots over so she can sit down too. She twirls one of her braids around her index finger as she looks up at him.

  “She’s not coming back, is she?” I ask.

  Elliott grins. “Probably not.”

  He takes my hand and leads me over to the coolers. One of them is filled with soda and water, the other with beer. We each take a can of soda and find an empty spot to sit down on one of the pieces of driftwood. I watch as Nephi pulls a box of sparklers and a book of matches out of his back pocket. Tazmyn and Halley each take one of the sparklers and giggle with delight as Nephi lights them. The girls spin around, the fireworks cutting sharp lines in the darkness.

  “I set my phone alarm for eleven-thirty so we can be sure to get her home by midnight,” Elliott says.

  Halley’s sparkler burns out and Nephi offers her another one. “So what do we do in the meantime?” I ask.

  “I mean, it’s no Ninja Warrior gym, but we can just hang out or wade in the water or walk farther up the river if you want. It’s amazing how dark it gets inside the slot canyons at night.”

  I start to tell Elliott a walk sounds good, but then Halley bounces over with Tazmyn in tow. “Come meet my new friend, Jennifer,” she says.

  I try not to wince at the incorrect name. Elliott stands so the two girls can sit. Tazmyn and Halley squish into the spot he vacated, with Tazmyn ending up next to me. My eyes are drawn to the piano key bracelet on her wrist. I swallow hard. “Nice to meet you,” I say.

  “Halley says you just graduated from high school, too,” Tazmyn chirps. “Are you starting college in the fall?”

  “Yeah. I’m going to . . .” I have to think for a second to remember what I told Halley back when I first met her. “Northwestern.”

  Tazmyn cocks her head to the side. “You look familiar. Where did you go to high school?”

  My heart starts pounding and I resist the urge to get up from the log and run away. I look down at my lap. “I went to a school in Illinois,” I say. “A small town. You’ve probably never heard of it.”