by Gaby Triana
“Open the door. It’s me. Open up!” I pound hard with my fists.
Footsteps shuffle across the wooden floor. “For heaven’s sake, I’m coming!” Her voice filters through the screen. The irony of seeking shelter from one enemy on the front steps of another slaps me hard.
The door unlatches and opens. “Move!” I shove Betty Anne aside, lock the front door, and all the windows at the front of the house.
“What on Earth?” Betty Anne backs against the wall. “What happened?”
“Did you take it?” I demand, spitting hair out of my mouth.
“Take what?”
“The journal. The journal that was in my mother’s safe deposit box. The box with my name on it, not yours!”
“My name is on the account, Mica, but I don’t know what journal you’re talking about.” Betty Anne is on the verge of tears.
I stomp into my room. The bed has been made. She’s been in here. Throwing open my closet and pulling back the art portfolio, I expect for my envelope to be gone or in a new position as if searched through, but it’s not. It’s in the same position I left it in. Betty Anne hovers in the doorway, fingertips nervously touching her lips. I open the envelope and shake everything onto my bed.
A quick inventory confirms the family tree, the photos, even the little sticky notes that keep popping off from me unsticking and sticking them so many times. I whirl around. “Something should’ve been in the safe deposit box that wasn’t. Did you take it? A book, something with pages in it?”
At first she’s shocked. Does she really have no idea what I’m talking about? Then, slowly, her eyes gloss over. She nods, leaves the room. I follow her down the hall to the master bedroom alight with two bright lamps, needlepoint frames on the walls, and lots of lace curtains. She walks to a shelf by her dresser, pulls something off the wall, and brings it over.
A moment later, she plops it into my hands. An old doll, a ratty thing with blond hair and hazel eyes. Uglier than sin. More beautiful than life. “Sofia?” I’m hit with a hundred memories at once. I caress her white dress and then look up at Betty Anne. “What were you doing with this?”
She flings away tears. Her face has turned a deep pink, and I think she might choke from not breathing. Finally, she draws in a deep breath and mumbles something incoherent. After another breath, she tries again. “Your mother told me that if you didn’t come back, I could have her. She knew you never liked her dolls, and I guess I was the only one who did.”
“This is what you took?” I want to cry, too. The journal is still lost. Or did Dr. Tanner just prank me and is now on his merry way to the historical preservation society to claim his half-a-million-dollar check? I scream, “Where is it, Mami? You can speak to me, can’t you? You can even show yourself, so tell me where it is!”
Betty Anne covers her ears. “Oh, honey, don’t do that. It’s negative energy. It’ll invite unwanted spirits. Let’s take this to the kitchen.” She tugs at my arm, but I yank it away.
“Are you sure this was all you took? I need to know, Betty Anne. I need…to know. There was something else. Something important.”
“That was it, Mica. I swear I was going to give it to you now that you were back. Oh, what have I done?” She shakes her head.
Silhouetted by the lamplight and in tears, Betty Anne looks old and frail. I feel terrible for yelling at her. Yes, she took Sofia without telling me, even as I slept in her very house. But that was it. That was her crime—appreciating my mother’s disturbing handiwork.
I look at Sofia again, stroke her hair. Uglier than sin. But Mami made it for me with love because it had my color eyes and my color hair. Slumping under the weight of my immense failure, I amble to Vanessa’s room and sit on the bed with Sofia in the crook of my arm.
Soft shuffling of slippers on the floor follow me. “I’m sorry, Mica,” Betty Anne whispers from the doorway. “I thought you didn’t want her anymore. I shouldn’t have assumed I could keep her when she’s not mine to keep.”
“It’s all right.”
“I feel awful.”
“Don’t.” I hear my phone ding a text message. I reach my backpack on the floor and check it—from Bram.
Can u meet me earlier? They’re shorthanded at holloweve.
On my way
I reply with a sigh. I stand, handing Sofia to Betty Anne. “Here. Have her. I wasn’t talking about her anyway.”
“No, I couldn’t, not after—”
“Take it.” I stare at Betty Anne’s swollen, pink-rimmed eyes. “You’ll take better care of her than I would.” And just as she’s about to squeeze past me in the doorway, I throw my arm around her. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I’m just losing it.”
“You’ve lost your mother is what you’ve lost.” Betty Anne sniffles. “Yell at me all you want.”
...
Walking to Kingsland Point Park, I remove Dane’s business card from my wallet and punch his number into my phone. “To what do I owe this honor?” he answers right away.
“I was almost killed a while ago, and considering you’re supposed to be my bodyguard, I’d like to know why I was left to fend for myself. Or did my dad forget to pay you, too?”
His voice sounds less stern than concerned. “Do you mind telling me where you went? One moment you were at the coffee shop talking to Tanner, and the next thing I know, I lost sight of you.”
Oh. He really does track me. “I took a shortcut. I had to get back to Betty Anne’s house as quickly as I could.”
“Well, rule number one from now on is no more shortcuts. If you must walk, walk where the rest of the world can see you. And for clarification, I’m not a bodyguard. Yes, I’ve been asked to keep an eye on you, but my main responsibilities involve your mother’s case.”
“Are you keeping an eye on me now?” I scan the street. “Because I’m crossing North Broadway into Kingsland Point Park to meet someone, but it’d be good if you had my back.”
“Who are you meeting?”
“Bram.”
A moment’s pause softens his tone. “You are a stubborn one. You feel that’s wise?”
“I feel it’s safe enough. But if you are so inclined to spy on me, please do so from where he can’t see you.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Thank you. And…I’m sorry.” I enter the park through the east entrance. “I’m very angry and confused at the moment, so please forgive me for going against your judgment and indulging just this once. He’s my friend—I need him.”
“Suit yourself,” he mutters. “Call me if you need me.”
“Sorry, Dane. I hope you’ll understand.” I know he’s doing his job, but I have to do what feels right, and ignoring my closest friend in town doesn’t. I hang up, hurrying into the heart of the park. The light from a yellowing lamppost casts a shadow on the figure ahead, reminding me of Bram-Dad in my garden dream. Dark and intimidating.
Until I hear him. “You’re a vision. Even when you’re not trying.” A minute later, his arms are around me, warm and enveloping. “What happened? Are you okay?” he asks.
“No.” I grip his jacket by the sleeves. “Someone is after me. I don’t want to stay in town anymore. I feel like I should leave soon.”
His body blocks the cold breeze drifting off the river. I want so much to stay shielded by him. “Who’s after you?”
“Someone on a bike.”
He huffs. “You’ve just named half the people in Tarrytown. If someone’s following you, you need to report it to the police.”
Somehow I get the feeling that Sleepy Hollow police couldn’t care less about my safety. “They know,” I say. If Dane is informed, then Officer Stanton knows by now as well.
“You reported it?”
I pull away. “Yes.”
He smirks and caresses my face. “You’re not the same. You’ve changed.”
I push his fingers aside. “I’m just being cautious, Bram. You have to understand that.”
“And you hav
e to understand that I won’t let anything happen to you. Don’t you see that?”
I nod and close my eyes. I do see it, but I also thought my mother didn’t love me, and I was wrong. I thought my father would never lie to me, and I was wrong. Clearly, I’ve been wrong about a great number of things and need to wake up.
He squeezes my shoulder, inching closer, as though hoping I’ll take him in for a full hug. “Things will get better soon. You’ll see.”
I shake my head. “They have to. ’Cause they sure as hell can’t get any worse.”
Apparently, they can. Suddenly, Bram’s body goes rigid, and he spots something behind me. “What the fuck?” His voice booms through his chest against my ear, making me gasp aloud. He shoves me aside and charges toward a side street.
“Bram?” There, in the dark behind a slew of maple trees lining the sidewalk, sits the old blue Eclipse.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“He would double the schoolmaster up, and lay him on a shelf of his own school-house.”
“Bram! Where are you going?” I watch, lump in my throat, as he strides across the lawn, climbs over the low wooden fence, and charges over to the Eclipse, pounding on the hood.
“Come out!” He rounds the car to the driver side door. “Where you hiding, teach?”
I run after him, hoping to serve as damage control, and see that Dane isn’t inside his car. “It’s not even his. Let’s just go,” I call out.
“Of course it’s his. How many blue Eclipses have you seen around town?” As he scans the park, the familiar hint of rage from my dreams makes my stomach sink. “Boracich! Stop playing games.” His voice echoes throughout the park. A teen couple on a nearby bench gets up and walks off. “You wanna spy? Get a life, dude!”
“Just leave him alone.”
“Leave him?” He turns to me, and I see a wave of forced self-control settle over him. He smiles. But it’s not a genuine smile, and I suddenly feel like running. “You’ve told me that he follows you. I’ve seen him staring at you like a lost puppy.” He’s ranting, eyes wide and raving.
“He’s not the one I should worry about,” I say, hoping it’ll calm him.
He points to the parked car. “Don’t let him fool you with his I-have-everything-figured-out attitude. That’s exactly what he wants you to think. I’ve watched him. I’ve given him serious looks, and being a guy, he knows what looks I’m talking about, and still, he has the balls to come around here?” he yells.
“Calm down. It’s not like that.” I want so much to tell him what’s going on. I’m so scared he’s going to hurt Dane.
He charges up to me, his stare weighing on me. “Calm down? I’ve invested a lot in you.”
My body tightens. What did he just say? Is he kidding me right now with this act? “What are you saying, that I owe you?”
“You don’t know all I’ve been through,” he mumbles through gritted teeth.
“I appreciate your going against the grain for me, but it doesn’t give you the right to act like an asshole. I didn’t ask for you to defend me. It was all you. As for Dane, he’s only keeping an eye on me. That’s all. Leave him alone.”
“Keeping an eye on you,” he repeats. “Are you crazy? Make up your mind. Do you need my help or not?”
“Yes, but he’s not the one to watch out for.”
“How do you know?”
“I just—I just know, Bram.”
He blinks softly. He’s listening. Still, he scans around the park. Where did Dane go? Then I see a tall, skinny shape moving under an oak tree across the street. He’s been leaning against the trunk in the shadows the whole time, hands in his pockets. Cool and collected.
“Let’s just go.” I grab ahold of Bram’s arm and yank him the opposite way.
God forbid someone should touch him when he’s upset, though, because he suddenly pushes me back, and I stumble a few steps. “Don’t…grab me like that,” he says.
Dane jumps out of the shadows when he sees me rubbing my arm, but then he realizes he’s out in the open now. “Don’t touch her like that again.”
Bram whirls around. “Oh, yeah?” He launches at him like a cannonball, and Dane steps out into the street to meet him, holding up his hand to stop Bram from coming any closer. Bram grabs and twists his arm, using his free hand to plow a fist into Dane’s face.
Dane’s head flies back then returns as if he’s used to this sort of thing, a thick spot of blood dripping from his nose. He swipes at it, like it’s nothing. Calmly, he grabs Bram by the shoulders and plows a knee into his stomach.
“Stop it!” I run to the middle of the road, torn between separating the two, scuffling on the street, or staying out of the way to avoid getting hurt. “I said stop! You’re acting like little kids!”
The punches continue to fly, the pounding and body-slamming against the car. As good as Dane was at the start, Bram is all lean, heavy muscle, and something inside him snaps. He pounds and punches and pummels Dane in the face, pulling his head forward then banging it against the car window. Something in his eyes…he could kill him. “Stop! Bram! Please! He’s...damn it…he’s not stalking me…” Bram stops hitting him, and he looks up. “He’s a detective.”
I watch my betrayal fall across Dane’s face like an eclipse over a full moon. I’m so sorry…
Bram gasps for breath, his gaze shifting from Dane to me and back to Dane. He shakes his head, releases his death hold on Dane, and doubles over to catch his breath. Dane watches me, completely shocked and hurt. He throws his hands in the air, resigned, and flips over to hug the car. After a minute, he circles it and pauses to look at me again before getting in, as if saying, You’re on your own now.
I can’t believe what I just did. But Bram was hurting him.
What just happened? Dane might’ve known who’s been chasing me, he might’ve been close to figuring it all out. But I blew his cover. Now, Bram will tell everyone who he really is, ruining my protector’s chance of getting to the bottom of it all.
The guilt kills me. But I was just tired of everyone’s pushing, pulling, and shoving instructions. What if everyone is wrong but me? What if, deep down, only my intuition is the right one, and I don’t follow it? Can I live with that?
For once, I can’t listen to anyone. Not to Dane, not to Bram, not to my parents, not even to Mary Shelley’s poor tormented soul. What I need now is to listen to my own instincts—given to me at birth for a reason. And if that alienates everyone I love and causes me to make huge mistakes, so be it. But at least the mistakes will be my own.
...
It’s raining when the small brown bubble envelope finally arrives. I sign for it, watch the delivery man run back to his truck under the deluge, and then stare at it.
Wiping beads of water off the package, I take it to my room and close the door. On the bed, I pull the tab to slice open the envelope and two key chains slide out. One holds a green key, the one Mami always used for the front door as well as the back one leading into the kitchen. The other ring has two smaller, identical silver keys with a plastic key chain marked Hudson Storage #301.
Hudson Storage is on Route 9 a half mile south of Sunnyside. I remember driving past it on the way to the bank. I throw on dirty jeans and tie my hair into a tight ponytail. Then I grab my keys and head into the living room where Betty Anne is finishing her latest needlepoint—a carved pumpkin with a black kitten poking its head out of it.
“I like it.” I peer over her shoulder. Sofia now sits perched next to Diana the Dutch doll on the shelf. I smile sadly. At least my evil stepsisters can now commiserate together.
Betty Anne smiles at her handiwork. “I thought it was cute, too. Are you heading somewhere? It’s raining awfully bad.”
“I know. I was thinking, if you weren’t using your car, maybe I could borrow it today? Would you mind?”
“Not at all. First hook on the right in the kitchen. It just needs gas.”
“Thanks.” And though I haven’t done it in quite som
e time, I lean over and kiss Betty Anne’s cheek. I still feel awful about having yelled at her when she did nothing wrong.
She touches her face. “Careful in the rain, okay?”
“’Kay.” I grab an umbrella from the kitchen and sprint under the rain to Betty Anne’s dark blue dinosaur parked out front.
Down Route 9, I’m so lost in thought, I plow through a yellow light turning red. Thoughts of Dane plague me. What is he doing now? Will he ever forgive me? Will I see him again? He was right about here last night when I lost sight of his car.
Driving through town, I know exactly which cars will be parked outside Mario’s Tex-Mex Restaurant, which stores are open now, and which patrons I’ll see sitting at which windows. Whether or not I meant to become a Tarrytown girl again, it somehow happened over these two weeks.
In ten minutes, I arrive at Hudson Storage and use my key to get through the front gate where a security guard barely looks out from under his visor to nod at me. I search for Building 3, since the unit key is marked #301. I find it in the back, facing another woodsy area that makes me cringe. Hopefully, Dane is still following me around, checking on me, even though I completely blew his cover.
Pulling into a parking space, I wait for the rain to let up and stare at the unit’s roll-up door. I’m about to find out what’s inside. If the journal everyone is looking for is in there, what will I do with it? Keep the money for myself? Share it with my dad, as angry as I am with him? Find Nina and pay her for her lost time?
Would $500,000 make me happy when money was never what I truly wanted in the first place? It can’t bring my mother back. The Derants and Engers could use it, judging from Jonathan’s apartment and Bram’s shitty car. But do I deserve the journal? I’ve done nothing to keep it safe all these years the way Bram and Jonathan’s families have.
But Mami gave me the family tree for one reason and one reason only—to prove it belonged to me. She would’ve cared for the document had she known for sure it was our family’s. I do know one thing—if and when I find it, assuming it’s not in someone else’s hands right now, I’ll share its contents with the world. For Mami. For Mary. So their souls can rest. That’s all that matters to me.