Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
But she’s not who I’m here to see. She never belonged to me and truthfully, I never belonged to her, either. Kimberly was always Jericho’s.
I straighten, wipe off my hands and turn to the Mausoleum wall. It takes me a moment, the guilt that had grown subtler in the last two years that I’ve been away taking on its old, familiar sensation, a twisting presence in my gut. A weight on my chest. I grit my teeth and force a smile as if she could see me. I approach the wall where the second small bouquet of wildflowers is. My throat tightens as I get closer, and I glimpse something different. Something new. There’s a small photograph of her. Zoë. It wasn’t here before.
Three years I’ve been away. Three years I haven’t been to visit my sister. There’s a hole where our father’s bones had been resting too close to hers. It was wrong for him to be close to her in death when she did what she did to escape him in life.
Jericho did that when he learned the truth. I should have done it myself. I should never have allowed him to be interred near her, but I couldn’t, not without telling the world what he’d done.
Too late I found out. Too late I saw. She was long gone by then.
He paid in the end. I collected on my sister’s behalf. It wasn’t nearly what he deserved.
I take in an audible breath of cold, damp air and tell myself to get it together. Zoë has been dead longer than she was alive. She was just sixteen when I found her. My sister. My twin. The person I was supposed to have an unbreakable bond with. A connection deeper than any other. But still, I didn’t see it. Not when it was right in front of my eyes.
I touch the marker of her name then shift my gaze to the photograph. I wonder why he did it. It must have been Jericho. Or maybe it was our mother. But I find I’m glad it’s here. Glad to see her like this. Like she’d been before. Young and happy. Although it’s bittersweet.
“I’m sorry I’ve been away so long,” I say.
There is no answering breeze. No chill to raise the hairs on the back of my neck. There was, once, but she’s gone. I should take comfort in that, perhaps. Knowing that she’s at peace. But I don’t deserve comfort. Even after what I did, punishing the man who put her in her grave far too early, I don’t deserve comfort. I need to remember her and along with her memory, my own failure.
“Thought you’d make your way out here.”
I turn to find Jericho standing with an umbrella. I realize it’s started to rain. He steps closer, shielding us both from the rain.
“I like the photograph,” I say.
He looks at it, smiles. “That was mom. It’s good to remember her that way.” He turns his gaze to me, studies me. “You shouldn’t have stayed away so long, Zeke.”
“I’m not back, Jericho. Not to stay.”
He looks like he’s going to say something but, after a long moment, nods. “The girl?”
“Asleep.”
“Come to the house. They all went to bed hours ago. No one will see you.”
“I should get back. I have to prepare things.”
“We need to talk. I’m a part of this too, remember.”
That he is, especially considering what Blue told me about where she got her information. I nod and we walk to the house in silence. I’m not sure how I feel seeing it again. I lived here most of my life but it’s not home. I don’t have a home.
We walk in through the doors at the back and, as he said, the house is dark and quiet. I recognize the smell of the place and breathe it in. Every house has a smell that belongs to it. It’s made up of lives being lived and memories of the past, good and bad.
He shakes out the umbrella and sets it aside. I follow him into the study. The desk lamp is on as is the one beside the couch. I take in the old, familiar space, noting he hasn’t changed much.
“Whiskey?”
I nod, taking a seat on the couch. He brings over the bottle and two tumblers, pours, then sits on the leather armchair across from the sofa.
“You must be tired,” he says.
“I am.” I’m jet lagged but my plan wasn’t to stay long enough to adjust to the time difference. I was going to handle Blue and get out of town before anyone found out I was even here. But things have changed. She isn’t what I expected.
My phone buzzes in my pocket alerting me to a text. I take it out and read it. It’s from Robbie.
Robbie: Check your email.