The Secrets of Lost Stones

by Melissa Payne

  He stared at her, his eyes dull and tired. “I’m not following, Star.”

  “We lived at the Lancaster. You visited my dad a few times. He was a—” Her face burned, and she lost her words. “He wasn’t a good man. He was a drug dealer. But I told him I’d met you before and that you were trying to help him.” Ben looked at her, his expression blank. A bead of sweat slipped down her back. “I thought if anybody could help him get clean it would be a nice police officer like you.”

  Still no reaction from Ben, and then Star realized why. She felt her shoulders relax. He still thought she was Jess’s niece with the hippie parents. But Ben was a part of this, too, and he needed to know who she was. “Oh, I’m not actually Jess’s niece. We only said that because we didn’t know yet.”

  “Know what?”

  “That I’m your loose end.”

  Ben’s eyes shifted, and he seemed to be staring behind her now. His jaw slackened, and for a second Star thought he looked scared.

  “Officer Ben, do you want to come inside?”

  He coughed, shook his head as though to clear it, and backed out of the door until he stood on the top step. “No, thanks, I have to go.” He gave her a long look. “But don’t go running after any more bears, okay?”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  JESS

  The dirt path around the lake was about a mile long, and the afternoon warmth gave her the perfect excuse to take a break and go for a walk. The doctor’s appointment had been short and uneventful, and they’d returned home to find Star in an upbeat mood doing laundry and cleaning her bathroom.

  Jess had raised her eyebrows at Star’s sudden enthusiasm for household chores. “Did you smoke weed with the kids by the boathouse again?”

  Star threw her head back and laughed. “Nah, I’ve moved on. It was meth this time.”

  Jess smiled. “Smart-ass.” And they both laughed.

  Now Jess was halfway around the lake and enjoying the fresh air and exercise. Last night at Ebee’s had left her feeling heavy with memory but also strangely liberated, as though talking about Chance had freed her in some way.

  In the woods surrounding the path came the crunch of dead leaves. Her head shot up at the sound, and she scanned the shaded depths. A squirrel clicked at her from the low branch of a pine tree, disturbing a large black raven. The bird lifted above the leafy canopy, the flapping of its wings heavy in the wooded silence. She shuddered, thinking about the bear. Having been a city girl her entire life, nature was an unfamiliar partner that she didn’t quite understand yet.

  The path ended in a set of wide metal stairs that led to the bottom of the waterfall. She jogged down the stairs and followed a narrow trail to a bench that sat facing the plunging water. To her surprise, a familiar form already occupied the bench, his large shoulders hunched forward, head in his hands.

  She approached quietly. “Ben?”

  His head jerked up, and he seemed to recoil at first. He sat up straight. “Afternoon, Jess.” He fell silent, eyes trained on the ground in front of him.

  Jess took a seat on the far side of the bench, shivered. A day of full sun had left the air warm, but the bench sat under the shadow of a pine tree where the frigid air of winter seemed to take refuge regardless of the season. She crossed her arms, wishing she’d remembered to grab a jacket.

  Far above her, water plummeted over the concrete lip of the dam and onto the sharp boulders scattered across the shallow pool in front of them. Spray misted the air, dampening her clothes and adding to her chill.

  “So Lucy’s bloodwork from the last visit came back good. Dr. Patel says she’s the perfect specimen of health. I told Lucy not to let it go to her head.”

  Ben snorted.

  The silence between them lengthened until Jess shifted, uncomfortable. “Is everything okay?”

  He leaned back on the bench and looked up. In the shadows of the pine tree, his skin had a gray tinge. “When I was a little boy, I wanted to jump over that waterfall.”

  His comment caught her off guard, and she studied the top of the dam. A narrow metal walkway spanned the length of the concrete lip, with high metal sides that stretched up and over like a cage. “From up there?”

  “It was an open bridge then. They installed the gate a few years ago.”

  The waterfall was high, maybe sixty feet, and with the ragged points of the boulders below, a jump from that height would be suicide. “Bad idea,” she said.

  One side of his mouth lifted. “It sure was. My plan was to rent a paddleboat, take it past the buoys, step onto the concrete lip, and then when the entire town had appeared, execute a perfect dive.” He stared at the top, a wistful expression pulling the edges of his mouth down.

  “What happened?”

  “I didn’t have enough money to rent a paddleboat in the first place.”

  She smiled. “Swimming is free.”

  He sighed. “The thought did cross my mind, and except for one major obstacle I would have done it.”

  She pictured him as a small boy standing on the muddy banks of the cold lake. “What’s that?”

  “I didn’t know how to swim,” he said.

  “And you were going to dive sixty feet into a pool of rocks?”

  He gave a rueful smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “Eventually I lost interest in the whole plan.”

  Jess fidgeted in the silence that followed. He hadn’t looked her way since she first sat down, and he spoke almost as though she wasn’t there.

  “I reinjured my back not long after college.”

  She stole another glance at him, wondering where he was going with this, but his eyes were glued to the waterfall. “And then one night I found myself standing at the top of the waterfall, just like I’d planned all those years before. Except I wasn’t a kid anymore.”

  He hunched forward, his elbows resting on his knees, head hanging.

  “And that’s when Lucy showed up and told me to get down.” He laughed but it was grim, humorless. “She just has a way of knowing.”

  Jess touched the scars on her wrist, her mind flashing to the burning agony of the ragged blade across her skin. It took an enormous amount of pain for anyone to contemplate suicide. Ben’s confession softened her, made her wonder what demons he had struggled with, made her want to share her own.

  “A year after my son died, I stopped trying to pretend that I could live without him.”

  Ben’s head swiveled around, and he looked at her as though seeing her for the first time.

  “What I’m trying to say is that I get it. I understand what it’s like to want an end.” She held out her wrist, the scars pale white, jagged lines across her skin, then pulled down her sleeve to cover it back up. “I saw him everywhere, to the point where I thought it meant I was supposed to join him. Chance was my only purpose in life, and I couldn’t see my purpose without him. So I tried.”

  “What happened?”

  She inhaled sharply. “He wouldn’t let me.”

  A cloud passed over the sun, turning the light blue and bringing shadows out of hiding.

  “Why did you lie to me about Star?” His voice was gruff, his question abrupt.

  “Who told you?”

  “Star.”

  Jess was taken aback. Star had told Ben. “She must trust you.”

  He met her eyes, but his gaze seemed unfocused. “Does she.”

  He said it as a statement, and Jess shifted on the bench, uncomfortable. Was he going to call social services? But if Star had told Ben, maybe she was ready to face her past. Jess rubbed at her arms. The afternoon had slipped away, turning the sky a stormy blue. A cool breeze whispered through the pine needles.

  Maybe it was time to help Star the way they should have at the very beginning.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  STAR

  “I made fajitas!” Star announced to Jess the minute she returned from her walk.

  Jess paused in the doorway to the kitchen. Her hair was down and around her shoulders i
n long brown waves. Star couldn’t remember when she’d stopped wearing her tight ponytail every day, but she liked her better this way.

  Jess was looking at her with a little wrinkle in her forehead. “You told Ben.”

  Star bit her lip. “I did.”

  “Does this mean you’re ready to go home?”

  Star stiffened. “What? No!” How could Jess still think Star wanted to go anywhere? “I recognized him.”

  Jess’s eyebrows rose. “From where?”

  “From when I was a kid.” She could feel the excitement from this morning growing again. “You know how Lucy gets so upset about Ben’s loose end and all that?”

  Jess nodded.

  “Well, I think I figured it out. I remembered Ben as this police officer who tried to help get my dad clean.”

  Jess’s jaw dropped open. “Have you talked to Lucy about this?”

  “Not yet—she’s still sleeping.”

  “Still?” Her voice sounded alarmed. She headed up the stairs, not even bothering to take her coat off.

  Star followed, her throat tight. She should have thought to check on Lucy. What if something had happened?

  Jess opened the door without even knocking and entered the room, with Star so close that when Jess stopped suddenly, Star stumbled into her.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled.

  Lucy sat in the chair facing the window, her red hair brushed out until it was a frizzy halo around her head. The glow of the late-afternoon sun shot through her window, lighting her hair on fire.

  “Hey, Lucy,” Jess said softly. “Would you like to come down for dinner? Star made fajitas.”

  Lucy didn’t move, and Star felt her heart stop for a beat. “Lucy?” she said, and her voice trembled.

  Jess moved swiftly to her side, knelt down by the chair, and placed her hand on Lucy’s back. Lucy’s neck craned forward, giving her the look of a vulture.

  “I think I missed something important,” Lucy said, and her voice came out as a croaking whisper.

  Star hugged her arms to her chest, afraid to move any closer. Lucy always sounded old, but she’d never sounded weak before.

  Jess took Lucy by the elbow and helped her to rise. “We had to get up so early this morning, I think it wore you out. Why don’t you settle in here for the night. I’ll bring your dinner up, maybe one of your crossword puzzles too?”

  Lucy nodded, her thin fingers gripping Jess’s arms and her eyes trained on every step she took.

  “I made fajitas,” Star offered.

  Lucy looked up, but her eyes were a dull blue, and she seemed to be looking through her. She lifted the hand not holding on to Jess and pointed at Star.

  “I take care of all of my loose ends,” she said.

  Star moved closer to the bed. “Oh, I know! That’s what I want to tell you. Ben—”

  “Stopped by earlier to see you.” Jess shot Star a look that said, Stop talking.

  She shut her mouth, confused.

  Lucy yawned, smiled at Jess. “That’s nice of Benjamin.” She lay back against the pillows and closed her eyes. “Mother always said I could be blind when I wanted to be.”

  Jess nodded her head toward the door, and together they left the room and walked silently to the kitchen.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Star chewed nervously on a nail. What if something happened to Lucy?

  Jess filled a glass with tap water and drank the entire thing before answering. “I think she’s just tired, Star. It was a long day, and while she doesn’t act it, her age does catch up with her from time to time. C’mon, let’s eat.”

  They fixed their plates and sat across from each other at the table.

  “Why didn’t you let me tell her about Ben?”

  Her mouth opened and closed, and Star tensed. This was the way people broke bad news.

  “Lucy does good things for people here, and she definitely has a talent for figuring people out. But I think . . .” Jess looked down at her plate, and her face soured like she’d lost her appetite. She put her fork down. “I think Ben is right about her. She doesn’t have magical powers or supernatural sight, and letting her believe she does isn’t good for her.”

  Jess was wrong, but she didn’t know everything. If Star could get her to see how they were all connected, then maybe there was a chance. “But what about you and me?”

  The frown line between her eyes deepened. “You and me? We happened to live in the same building at the same time. Honey, given our backgrounds, that’s not so unlikely.”

  Star felt her chest tighten; she’d forgotten that Jess didn’t know about Chance and her. “But what about Ben? I know he’s the same police officer who was so nice to me and who tried to help my dad. I remember him.” Plus Chance had been trying to tell her with all the five-pointed stars, so she knew she wasn’t making things up in her head. She crossed her arms, rolled her shoulders. Lucy was the real deal.

  Jess gave her a soft smile. “Did Ben say he remembered you?”

  When she thought back to this morning, she realized that he hadn’t really said much. She shrugged, feeling tears well in her eyes.

  “You would have only been what, seven or eight?”

  Star nodded.

  “I’m sorry, Star, I just think we’re caught up in some pretty unique circumstances, and we’ve let Lucy’s imagination get the better of us.” She reached out, touched Star’s arm. “Lucy is struggling with some memory issues. The doctor wasn’t sure if it’s early-onset dementia, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to encourage her.”

  Star chewed on the fajita meat. Jess didn’t know what Star knew, hadn’t seen the things that Star had, but there was something about her tone that made the meat turn rubbery in her mouth. It seemed like Jess was leading up to something that Star had been expecting since she’d first arrived in Pine Lake. She could tell in the way she sat in the chair, straight back, the tight lines around her mouth.

  Jess cleared her throat, and Star’s leg muscles cramped. She’d been here before, and she’d been such a fool to think this time was different.

  “I was thinking, Star, that since Ben knows who you are now, maybe it’s time for you—for us—to reach out to your social worker. I can, you know, help in some way. Make sure we find you the kind of family who deserves you.”

  A hard lump filled the base of her throat. Leave Pine Lake? Her stomach churned at the thought of crawling under a bench to sleep. Coming here had stripped her of her hard layer, made her soft. Her eyes burned, and she felt a sob building in her chest. But then she thought of Chance pointing her toward Ben, and a rush of optimism spread inside her. Maybe, just maybe, if she was brave enough to say it out loud, maybe she could get what she really wanted.

  She took in a deep breath, lifted her eyes. “Everyone around here thinks Lucy’s a witch. Maybe she could adopt me, and I’ll become known as the Little Witch of Pine Lake.” She shoved her shaking hands under her thighs, but her knee jiggled up and down under the table.

  “Oh, Star,” Jess whispered. Her eyes grew bright, and Star had to look away. “I don’t think the state would ever consider . . . Lucy’s very old.”

  It was all slipping away; Star could feel it. This was her chance, and as humiliating as it was to have to ask, if she didn’t, she’d regret it for the rest of her life. And maybe Jess felt the same way. Her words spilled out in a strained whisper. “What about you?”

  Jess’s eyes widened, and her mouth opened and closed again, like a fish gasping for air, but she didn’t make a sound, didn’t say a word.

  She didn’t need to.

  Star pushed up from the table, abandoning her half-eaten fajita. Her stomach was in free fall, but she did her best to ignore the sensation, and with her chin held high she walked out of the kitchen, leaving Jess and her fishhook face behind.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  JESS

  She stared at her hands. They were on the small side, her fingers a tad long to be called stubby. She studied the creases
in her knuckles, the cracked tips beneath her short, unpainted nails, the deep lines that crisscrossed the dry skin of her palms.

  She curled them into fists, banged them on the table. She was a coward. As cracked and dry as her hands. Sat there with nothing to say after Star asked what Jess knew took every ounce of courage the girl probably had left.

  She pressed her palms against her eyes and let her head fall to the table, overcome by a memory of one of the last afternoons she’d spent with Chance.

  She’d grasped the end of the banana-shaped seat of the bike she’d given him for Christmas. The day was cool but with a hint of spring in the light breeze. They stood underneath the only two trees in front of the Lancaster; thin branches held stubbornly to a handful of dry brown leaves. The cracked pavement in front of their apartment building made it hard to ride, but it was the first warm afternoon since Christmas, and he was determined to learn. Chance balanced on the pedals, making the bike wobble in her hand.

  Ready? she said.

  He gave a single nod, and they took off. Jess ran beside him for a few feet, one hand holding the back of the seat, the bike stuttering over the pavement. Both of them laughing.

  Tell me when to let go . . .

  I got this, Mama!

  She released the seat, and he pedaled a few feet on his own, his little legs pumping up and down until the front of the bike began to jerk from side to side.

  Put your feet down! she called to him, and he did, coming to an abrupt stop.

  Chance let the bike fall to the ground before he turned to her, laughing. Did you see me?

  When she picked him up, he clasped his legs around her waist. I saw you. You’re a real bike rider!

  Afterward they’d rested against the spindly trunk of one of the trees, her arm slung around his small shoulders, his head of light-brown hair resting against her chest. She pressed her lips into his curls and inhaled, and his little-boy scent filled her nostrils—the sweet, sweaty musk of a boy still years away from the hardness of manhood.

  A hand squeezed her shoulder, and Jess’s head shot up, her face wet. The cold remains of the fajita sat on the table in front of her, filling her nose with the tangy smell of room-temperature salsa. Night had fallen outside, and without any lights turned on, the kitchen was dark except for the dim light above the stove.