Sixteen Grace
I miss the days when I could sleep for twelve hours without issue.
It’s been a long time since then. Even before the night I drowned.
There are too many things that keep me awake now.
Too many monsters to hide from. Too many things to do.
The Ambien my doctor prescribed helped for a little while.
But I never liked the way I felt the mornings after taking it.
I still keep them with me just in case though.
I decide to text Brooke on the number she left in my notes app. It’s interesting that she asked me not to tell anyone what we talked about. Not too much was said, but from what was said, I’m thinking I may have someone with information that could help me.
I examine the wall of boxes at the far end of the basement. Things from my sister and Wyatt’s life that have been packed away. I take the first box to my bed and start sorting through it while I wait for a response from Brooke.
A lot of it seems to be Geny’s stuff. I recognize a box filled with her old bedroom decor. Geny has always been sentimental. Never able to throw things away. I told her once I was going to call the Hoarders TV show on her.
A few boxes in, I get to a stack of old planners.
I put away the rest of the stuff before climbing back into bed and starting in on them.
It’s incredible to read through, to see what Geny was up to day-to-day over the years.
These are from a few years ago. Carter was a baby.
She has several of his early check-ups listed throughout the year.
And then, couple’s counseling is listed weekly at the end of 2021.
Then twice weekly. I search through the box for 2022’s planner and finally find it near the bottom.
January and February continue with the counseling, but it stops a week into March.
I flip through the rest of the book, but it doesn’t reappear.
Did they fix their problems? Or did they give up on them?
My phone vibrates beside me. It’s Brooke asking to meet tomorrow for coffee. We pick a time.
My eyes start to feel heavy. I repack the boxes and return them to their wall of hoarded past. I could keep looking, but I’m almost afraid of what I’ll find.
It’s clear there was something going on between Wyatt and Geny back then, though I never expected it for a second.
I don’t know how much was between them or for how long.
The betrayal stings more than it has a right to. Geny was always a good sister to me, even when I didn’t deserve it. She loved me unconditionally after seeing the worst sides of me. And Wyatt . . . Well, it’s not like I could be too upset with him after what I did.
It all confuses me. The timeline of it all.
I lie down, ready to toss and turn all night.
My eyes go to the basement steps that lead upstairs and the door that anyone could come down.
I’m not going to be able to sleep feeling so exposed.
I climb back out of bed and begin carrying box after box up the steps to stack against the door.
The door opens toward the steps, so if anyone tries to get down here, the boxes will get knocked over and will wake me up.
I go back to bed and tuck my hand under my pillow, feeling for the handle of my knife. My hand wraps around it and I breathe a little easier.
I wake up to my alarm at seven o’clock. My eyes don’t want to open, and every part of me wants to roll back over and get a few more hours of sleep. But I can already hear the noise of a bustling family through the basement ceiling, and I know I need to get up.
I drag my feet to the basement bathroom, which gives no illusion of being anything but that. The floor is the same cement as the rest of the space, and there are exposed pipes on the walls. But it works and it’s private, so it’s great.
When I finally feel halfway human, I climb the stairs and begin unstacking the boxes I piled in front of the door. It’s not the best security system, but it eased my mind enough to fall asleep.
Upstairs, the smell of smoke and bacon fills the air. Carter is bartering with Wyatt for a second glass of chocolate milk, and Geny appears breathless and flustered in the kitchen.
“Carter, no more chocolate milk. If you’re still thirsty, drink water. Then go get changed. Quickly. We’re going to be late.”
“What can I do to help?” I ask, and all eyes turn to me.
Geny stumbles over her words for a minute, looking around for a task to assign me.
“Um, just eat if you’re hungry. There’s coffee in the pot on the counter. I’ll clean up breakfast when we get home.”
Jack stands up from the table, taking his plate with him to clear and put in the sink. Then he disappears, probably to get ready. Geny always liked to be early for church. Being late, or even on time, gave her major anxiety. That hasn’t seemed to have changed.
I don’t normally eat breakfast, so I pour myself a cup of coffee. And then I start cleaning up the kitchen as everyone rushes around to get themselves ready to leave. Everything is pretty much spotless by the time Geny walks past the kitchen again.
“Oh — you didn’t have to do that,” she says.
“I know. I wanted to help.”
“Thank you.”
I smile and take a sip of my coffee.
“Do you want to come to church with us?”
The hopeful look on her face almost makes me say yes. I don’t want to disappoint her. I’ve done enough of that. But there are things I have to do, and church makes me uncomfortable. I haven’t been to a service since I lived here.
“I’m going to pass if that’s okay,” I say.
Her face falls and I hate myself.
“Yeah, sure. I can skip today. We can spend time together—”
“No, no.” I shake my head. “Don’t skip. It’s important to you. I have plans with Brooke anyway. I’ll see you after.”
Her eyes widen just a little. “Brooke O’Neil?”
“That’s the one.”
“Oh. Really? I didn’t know you guys were friends.”
“We’re not. I mean, not really. I was friends with her sister. But she texted me and asked to get a coffee and I said yes. I’ll probably be back before you even get home.”
She nods, but looks unsure. I know what she’s feeling. I reach out and grab her hand.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here.”
She nods again, this time a little more certain. “Okay.” She smiles. “I’ll see you after. We can go walk on our trail. It’s supposed to be nice today.”
I grin. “I’d love that.”
She ushers her family to the car, but hangs back to wait for Wyatt. He looks at me as he passes but doesn’t say anything. I look at my feet and pretend not to feel his eyes. I wave at them as they load into the car.
As soon as they’re out of sight, I pull my phone from my pocket and look up the funeral home’s number as I walk to my car. A girl answers. She sounds young and maybe just a tad too peppy for a receptionist at a funeral home.
“This is Rachel. Thank you for calling Kilpatrick’s Funeral Home. How can I help you today?”
“Hi, Rachel. My name is Grace Chandler, and I need to have my grave exhumed. Do you know how I go about having that done?”
Rachel stumbles over her words for a second before asking me to hold.
I plug my phone into the USB cord so it connects to my car’s radio.
I take familiar roads and check my rearview mirror every mile.
I used to think Raven was one of the safest places to be.
It’s what everyone said. The perfect place to raise a family.
Just watch out for the currents. But it isn’t what it seems, what everyone pretends.
I was just as bad as everyone else though.
I didn’t know it all, but I knew enough and pretended right along with everyone else.
I bought into the fantasy of the idyllic seaside town and it swallowed me up and spit me out.
I won’t make that mistake twice. I know there are dangers in Raven, and I know there are people who aren’t the least bit happy that I’ve resurfaced. I have to be careful.
A voice booms over my stereo speakers, scaring me half to death. “Hello? Ms. Chandler?” I’d forgotten I was on hold. I turn the volume down.
“Yes, I’m here.”
The new person on the phone is a woman who sounds older and speaks with the slow confidence of having experience in what she’s talking about.
She tells me she can make the arrangements to have the grave dug up, but it’ll take about a week, and she’ll need to make the proper authorities aware.
I ask her to go ahead and make the arrangements, and she promises to call me back with the exact date and time in the next few days.
I hang up and walk up the steps to my parents’ house.
The spare key is still in the same spot under a fake plant to the right of the porch.
I scoop it up and let myself in. The memory of Geny telling me how she found our father rings in my ears as I make my way up the stairs.
I can’t even imagine how horrible it must have been.
He was our hero. The glue that held us all together.
Now he’s gone and his reputation is being dragged through the mud.
I open the door to my parents’ bedroom, and a wave of nostalgia and grief hit me like a tsunami.
I push forward, sitting on the foot of their bed like I did so many times in the past.
I take my phone out of my pocket and pull up the article I read before I came back.
Raven High Principal Found Dead by Suicide After CSAM Allegations
Kenneth Chandler had been the principal at Raven High School for the last twenty-five years.
Students and staff at the school described him as always positive and always willing to go above and beyond to help the people around him.
That’s why it was so shocking when allegations surfaced about the beloved principal.
An anonymous tip is said to have led local police to seize his work computer where it is alleged that child abuse materials were located.
Chandler was placed on administrative leave while the case was being investigated, but before police could make headway, he was found dead inside his home by apparent suicide.
I put my phone face down on the bed and stare at the open closet.
Everything inside of me says it’s wrong.
But how did those types of things get on his work computer?
Why did he take his own life instead of fighting for the truth?
The answer to my last question comes before I can even finish asking it.
He didn’t.
He wouldn’t have killed himself, just like he wouldn’t have abused children. I know it more than I know anything, but that only leads to more questions.
I know better than anyone that there are people in Raven who will make you disappear.
My mind goes back to the cold water the night it all happened. The waves reaching higher up my chest, me trying to suck in a breath. The storm overhead that promised rain. The weight of my decisions and the hope that I could make things right.
Wyatt’s hands on my shoulders. His face as he pushed me under the surface.