The Secrets of Lost Stones

by Melissa Payne

  Jeremy didn’t respond, but his face had lost the comical expression from before. He stared at her until she began to fidget, rapidly regretting her candor.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  She bristled. “What?” Her life was her own, and she didn’t have to explain it to anyone. She was tough. And she didn’t need some spoiled small-town kid taking pity on her.

  “I’m really sorry,” he said again.

  “What the hell are you sorry for?”

  “That it took this long for Lucy to find you.”

  Star opened her mouth, closed it, felt her face grow hot. Find her? Like Lucy had been looking for her? Like she wanted her? A warmth trickled inside, tiny fingers of hope creeping toward her heart. But then she thought of Jazz, and the warm feeling turned cold. She kicked the seat in front of her and turned to look out the window again. If Lucy wanted to find her, it wasn’t because she cared. Nobody cared about a girl like Star.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  JESS

  She took a seat opposite Ben, who sat in the same chair Star had perched on earlier in the day. His bulk made the chair look comically small, his hands swallowing the delicate teacup. She waited for Lucy to say something, but the older woman’s attention was again on her crossword puzzle.

  Lucy tapped the tip of the pencil on the paper. “A nine-letter word for a confirmed habit.” She peered at Ben above the rim of her glasses.

  He chuckled and said to Jess, “Lucy and her crossword puzzles. I’ve always been terrible at those.”

  “Me too.” She gave Lucy a fond smile. “I’m afraid I’m not much help.”

  Ben fell silent and looked around the sitting room. He rapped the arm of his chair and jiggled one knee up and down. It was an awkward silence that made Jess feel as though she’d intruded.

  He cleared his throat. “You doing okay, Lucy?”

  “I’m doing fine,” Lucy said. “Still old and senile.”

  Instead of smiling, Ben leaned forward, his forehead creased, and again addressed Jess. “Has Lucy been having trouble?”

  Jess bristled at the way he talked about Lucy like she couldn’t hear or understand. It reminded her of Mr. Kim’s son. But Ben had obviously been caring for Lucy. He was nothing like that man. “Trouble?” she said.

  He shifted in his seat and glanced at Lucy, who continued reading her crossword puzzle like the two of them weren’t there. “Look, Jess, I’ve known Lucy a long time,” he began.

  Lucy set the puzzle down in her lap. “I caught Benjamin trying to steal my car,” she said.

  He gave a deep, rumbling laugh and seemed to relax for the first time. “I was only going to take it for a joyride. And it’s hardly stealing when you leave your keys in the ignition. Besides, that car was missing a battery and a hood. It wouldn’t have started anyway.”

  Lucy tilted her head to the side. “Was that the car you fixed up your senior year?”

  Something flickered in Ben’s eyes, and his smile faded. He coughed and set his cup on the table. Tea sloshed over the side.

  Jess grabbed a few napkins and wiped up the tea. She’d prefer to let Lucy visit with Ben on her own so she could get dinner started, maybe check on Star. Besides, Jess wasn’t much of a social person. But Lucy gestured for Jess to sit, so she did, the soggy napkins still gripped in her hand.

  “Ben was fourteen when I found him behind the steering wheel of my old car.”

  “It was a bet!” Ben protested, smiling again. He turned to Jess. “She’s the Witch of Pine Lake, you know.” Lucy laughed. “And I was a stupid kid.” He clasped his hands behind his head. “My family was dirt poor,” he said. “Two sets of clothes, no winter coat kind of poor. I thought stealing a car would prove something. I passed Lucy’s house one day and saw this old, unused car just sitting in the driveway. I can still remember thinking how unfair it was that some lady had two cars while my family had nothing.” He gave a rueful smile and pointed at Lucy. “She was the only good that came out of my short career as a thief.”

  “How?” Jess asked.

  “First, because she scared the hell out of me,” he said, grinning. “She told me that car was going to ruin my life. I believed her, so I gave her back the keys and promised I’d never try to steal a car again.”

  “I scared you?” Lucy said, sounding not at all surprised.

  “Of course you did! You had on that black cape, your hair looked like it was on fire, and you held a broom in your hands!”

  “I was sweeping the kitchen, Benjamin Watts.”

  “Or about to fly to a witch convention . . .”

  “Your hands shook so bad . . .”

  “I was terrified! And you acted like you’d been expecting me.”

  “Of course I was. It was on the calendar.”

  Their familiarity made Jess feel like a third wheel, and she took the opportunity to glance out the window to see if the van had returned.

  A small, pale face pressed against the window, features blurred by the thick glass, peering inside at the three of them.

  Jess gasped, and the face vanished in a blur of red as she shot to her feet. The boy from the market, she was sure of it. Did he live around here? She hurried to the door, urged by an unexplainable desire to find him. Find out why he was playing games with her. Maybe speak to his parents.

  “What’s her deal?” she heard Ben say to Lucy.

  But she was already in the foyer and flinging open the front door before she realized that she should have excused herself. Said something before she fled the room.

  Outside, the low-hanging sun turned the pine needles an inky black. Shadows coiled and stretched across the ground. There was movement out of the corner of her eye, and she turned to see the heel of a dirty shoe disappear around the side of the house.

  “Hey!” she called, and followed, stumbling over a thick tree root.

  A small path led to the overgrown flagstone patio on the side of the house where Lucy’s huge library windows faced. An aspen branch clicked against a window. The boy was nowhere to be seen. Was he hiding? From the hill behind the home came the sound of a metal door banging shut. She looked up. An old shed sat on the only bit of flat land on the sloped property. The boy stood beside the shed, staring down at her. She squinted, but the failing afternoon light plunged his face into shadow. He turned and disappeared inside the shed.

  A breeze kicked up then, whooshing through the pine trees and causing the shed’s thin metal door to flap against its frame.

  “Hey, kid!” she called, and began to carefully pick her way through a patch of thistle. The shed appeared when she reached the top, rusted and sunken, as though it had grown out of the ground. But the thing that made her breath catch in her throat was the door. Closed and locked with a heavy iron padlock.

  Her shoes crunched the dry grass as she approached the shed. It was loud in the stillness. “Hello?” No reply. She reached out to touch the lock, and her fingers left prints in the heavy dust that coated it. It looked like it hadn’t been opened in years.

  “What are you doing up here?”

  Jess yelped and spun around, her palm flat against her chest. “Ben,” she gasped. “You startled me.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Startled you? Looks more like I scared the hell out of you. You’re white as a ghost.” He pointed behind her, a crease in his forehead. “Did you need something out of Lucy’s old shed?”

  “No, I just saw—” What was she going to say? I think I saw a boy run into this locked shed? Through the sleeve of her shirt she rubbed the puckered scar across her wrist. She felt . . . off. Like the earth had tilted ever so slightly off its axis. Ben stood with his feet planted apart, hands on his hips, and the way he looked at her made her feel like she’d done something wrong. “I-I thought I saw a bear,” she said.

  He stood just below her on the slant of the hill, looking up at her from under the wide brim of his hat. The dim glow of the sun hit the sharp angles of his face, giving him a hollowed-out look. “Don�
��t see many bears in Denver, huh?” He gestured for her to follow him back to the house. “Lucy said you might want to get dinner started.”

  She walked past him and down the hill, hugging her arms across her chest to avoid the bite of the thistles. At the patio she stopped, turned. “What’s in there, anyway?”

  Ben hooked his thumbs through the belt loops of his pants and sighed. “I suppose it’s filled with a bunch of Lucy’s old antiques. It’s been locked for as long as I can remember, so I guess I don’t really know. Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, no reason,” she said casually. “Just wondering.”

  Ben continued past the house, and a moment later Jess heard the thump of the front door closing. She glanced once more at the shed and shivered. The building looked frail, like a stiff breeze could knock it down, but remembering the boy disappearing inside left her cold. Could she have imagined that? A tickling sensation inched across her wrist, and she began to scratch at her scars. Scratch, scratch, scratch. She watched her fingers move across the skin, thought about the night it happened, and knew deep in her heart that she was capable of imagining all kinds of things.

  She closed the front door softly and froze when she heard Lucy’s and Ben’s voices coming from the kitchen.

  “Who is she, Lucy?” Ben said quietly.

  “A loose end.” Lucy’s familiar words, a mantra.

  He sighed. “We’ve talked about this before, remember? Not everyone’s a loose end. Some people just have bad luck, and it’s not your job to help them.”

  “I helped you, didn’t I? Although I’m not sure it made a difference . . .” Her voice trailed off.

  Jess hovered in the enclosed porch, the inner door to the house cracked just enough for her to see the edge of Ben’s wide-brimmed hat where he stood in the kitchen.

  “You did help me,” Ben said flatly. “And look at me now, one of Lucy’s kids all grown up.”

  Jess could hear his voice edged in what sounded like anger. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but she was trapped, unsure whether she should go inside or slink back out the door.

  “I’ll always appreciate what you did for me when I was a kid, but I’ve worked hard to be the man I am today.” He paused, and Jess heard him sigh again. “I’m not trying to make light of the things you do. Hell, you’ve done something for just about everyone in this town. But, Lucy, I’m worried about you. The house is too big for you, and I think this ‘loose ends’ stuff is starting to mess with your—oh damn it, how do I say this?”

  “Say what, Benjamin?”

  “I brought you those brochures on that new place over in Georgetown.”

  “The assisted living facility? I’ve already told you, I’m not moving out of my house.”

  “Is that why you went behind my back and hired that woman?”

  She heard Lucy sniff. “She answered my ad at the right time.”

  Ben blew out a loud breath. “Is she qualified to take care of you? Has she found you wandering around your yard at two in the morning yet? Damn it, Lucy! Why would you keep something like this from me? I’ve only been trying to help you!”

  Silence filled the kitchen, and Jess tried to quiet her breathing. The emotion in his voice struck a chord in her. He cared for Lucy. She took a deep breath and pushed through the door. “I looked all around the outside. No bear. Guess I scared it off.”

  Ben turned to her, his eyebrows knitted together, no doubt wondering how much she’d heard. Lucy sat at the kitchen table, her shoulders hunched forward, and Jess felt a strong urge to put her arm around the old woman. “Are you staying for dinner, Ben?” she asked, hoping he’d say no.

  He shook his head. “I need to get going, but it was nice to meet you. My house is the one through the pine trees up behind Lucy’s house, so don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.” He patted the doorframe once, gave Lucy a quick glance, and left.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  STAR

  Jeremy’s words hung in the air. That it took this long for Lucy to find you. She thought again about the note from Lucy. What could she know about the accident? Star squeezed her eyes shut. She’d met Jazz when everything had fallen apart, after her mother died and her father buried himself in addiction. She was only seven, but she was lonely and sad all the time. Jazz was the brightest spot in her life, and his friendship made her think that maybe things could change for the better. And then he died because she let the ugly black spots of her life bleed into his.

  Voices floated from the direction of Lucy’s house, and Star opened her eyes. Jess and the police officer stood outside the house, talking. Star’s heart pounded, and she slid down in her seat until she was huddled on the floor of the van. Jeremy had put some distance between the van and the house, but the cop only had to glance down the road to see it.

  A few minutes later, Star relaxed when she heard the whine of an engine, followed by the crunch of tires as the car drove. The van engine started back up, and with Star still crouched low, Jeremy drove back to the house. Lucy’s wrinkled face appeared in the van window.

  “He’s gone,” she said. “Come inside.” She nodded formally. “Jeremy.”

  “Lucy,” he said in an equally serious tone.

  Lucy turned and walked slowly up the stairs and into her house.

  “Ready, Star?” Jeremy said.

  Before she could answer, the driver’s door creaked open, and a moment later Jeremy slid the side door wide. Star blinked up at him. He extended one arm and bent forward in an exaggerated bow. Star stared at his hand. Then Jeremy lifted his head, peering up at her through the strands of his hair, and gave her a lopsided grin. Something inside her softened a bit; he was a good guy. Still, she ignored his hand and climbed out on her own.

  “I’ll see you . . .” He paused, staring down at the ground. “Look at that.” His slender frame bent in half, fingers reaching out to pinch something between his thumb and forefinger.

  “What is it?” she asked, distracted. Her eyes scanned the road to make sure the cop was long gone.

  “Here.” He took her hand, and the contact made her jump.

  “Sorry, I’m just not used to people . . .” For some reason, her face reddened. She’d already told him she lived on the streets.

  “Check this rock out,” he said.

  She inhaled sharply. He held her rock. The one painted red with gold stars that had been a gift for her seventh birthday. She tried to steady her shaking hand as she took it from him. It must have escaped her shoe. “It’s mine,” she said, trying to steady her voice. “I guess I dropped it.”

  He pointed to an indentation in the rock. “It’s a heart,” he said. “Must be a good luck charm.”

  She nodded, her throat fused shut. His shoes crunched the gravel when he walked to the van, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the rock.

  “Hey, Tuesday,” he called. She looked up. His hair fluttered around his face in the light breeze. “I hope I see you next week.”

  Dust floated in the air after Jeremy left. Star sat on the front steps and pulled her shins in close to her body. The rock had been a gift from Jazz for her seventh birthday. They had just met, and it was the only birthday gift she got. She squeezed her fist. The stone pressed into the tight flesh of her palm, smooth and cold. Jeremy was like those girls with the guitars, sheltered and naive. He was wrong—the rock wasn’t a good luck charm. She’d kept it by her side all these years as a reminder that life was cruel and unfair and she’d be stupid to expect anything different.

  Not like Jeremy could understand that. He probably had a mom who made him a hot breakfast every morning and told him she loved him every night.

  She wrapped her arms across her belly. Her mother had been like that, from the little Star could remember. She knew that things had been good once, because her very early memories, while fuzzy, made her feel warm.

  Like the bonsai trees. Seeing them in Jess’s room had flooded her with memories. T
he color of her mom’s hair. Black as night. The way her skin smelled like cinnamon rolls. The sound of her voice rumbling softly against Star’s ear just as she was falling asleep.

  A bonsai tree needs lots of love, she’d told Star once.

  Why, Mommy?

  Because it wants to grow bigger. But if I keep it close and give it my attention, then I can keep it small and perfect. Like you. She tweaked Star’s nose, and Star gave a bubbly kind of laugh.

  But then one day her mother couldn’t get out of bed anymore. Star tried to take care of her trees, but her chubby hands were small and clumsy, and the trees began to die. Weeks and then months passed, and her mother grew so thin it bleached the color from her cheeks and sucked the brightness from her eyes. Star curled inside her thin arms and pressed her ear to the bones of her chest. And then one day, her mom died too.

  Star slipped the rock inside her sock and stood up, wiping an arm across her eyes. She straightened her spine and for the second time that day rang the doorbell.

  “You don’t have to ring the doorbell,” Lucy said, waving her in. “You’re staying here now. Think of it as your house too.”

  “I’m only staying for one night,” she blurted.

  “Come in, then,” Lucy said, and turned back to the kitchen.

  Star stood in the unheated porch, her foot hovering over the threshold to the inner foyer.

  Jess appeared from the kitchen and walked across the gleaming parquet wood of the foyer to the bottom of the stairs. She gave her a small smile. “Close the door before you let the bears in.”

  Star pictured the slatted roof of her bench, smelled the mixture of urine and moldy cheese that wafted from the concrete, felt the clammy hands of the boy who had attacked her tugging at her shirt.

  Her feet crossed the threshold.

  Lucy sat at the table with a newspaper folded into thirds and lying in front of her. A pair of black reading glasses rested on the tip of her nose.

  Star cleared her throat. “Um, thanks for today, Lucy,” she said, pressing up and down onto the balls of her feet. “For the food and the clothes and the walk.”