Twenty-Nine Grace
Wyatt opens his truck door for me. It’s not the same one he had back then, but it’s similar. I watch the front door of the house as I climb into the cab, and he shuts the door. My hands are trembling from the adrenaline. When he gets in and starts the car I turn and glare at the side of his face.
“You told her,” I say.
He looks over at me but back at the road quickly. “I didn’t. I swear I didn’t.”
I laugh, but it lacks humor. “Well I sure didn’t tell her, and I can’t imagine Frank did. So then how does she know?”
“I don’t know, Grace. I swear I never told anyone.”
I don’t know what to say. It doesn’t make sense. He had to. Maybe he was drunk and doesn’t remember.
“Grace.”
I look over at him. The glow from passing streetlights illuminate his features before they’re cast in shadow again. A face I had memorized but only vaguely recognize now.
“You can trust me,” he says. “You know that.”
And I do know that. It’s one of the only things I know.
Because all those years ago, Wyatt saved my life when he pushed my head under the icy water that night.
And everyone believing I was dead all this time means he never told my secret.
Maybe he thought I never made it back out of the water that night.
But he knew I swam away from the beach alive.
“I know,” I say finally.
He pulls the truck in front of my parents’ house, but neither of us moves.
“I think it’s time we talk,” he says. “We might not get another chance to be alone.”
I sigh. “Well, come inside then. I need a glass of water.”
In the house, we strip off our coats and toss them onto the armchair. Wyatt looks around at I don’t know what.
“I never liked coming in here after you left. I knew you were alive, but it still felt haunted by you.”
“That must’ve been tough, dating and then marrying my sister and all.”
I can feel his eyes on me, but I don’t turn to him. I go to the kitchen and pour myself a big glass of water. My anger at him makes me a hypocrite and I know it, but I can’t make it stop.
When I come back into the living room, his eyes are still on me.
“I should have told you. I would have if I’d had more time.”
I push out a breath and collapse into a chair on the other side of the living room from him.
“It’s not like you owed me anything. Not after what I did.”
“Stop it,” he says. “I meant what I said then. It wasn’t on you. You were a kid. He was the adult.”
“I wasn’t. Not really. Not technically. I was eighteen and old enough to know right from wrong, to know that I was betraying you in the worst way.”
He crosses the room in a flash and before I can stop it, I’m enveloped in his arms. It feels so natural and right even though I haven’t seen him in almost two decades. I let him comfort me. Let myself forget for just a second that our lives are so messed up, and it’s all my fault.
He lets me go and it’s too soon.
“Geny and I were seeing each other behind your back for four months. I ended things with her that night. After you told me about you and Frank.”
The words are swords being pushed through me. Not only him and Geny, but me and Frank. The regret and shame burn hot. All of this is my fault.
“Why’d you end things with her after I told you what I did?” I ask.
He smiles sadly. “I was so mad at you. More than that. I called the house. We had a code. I’d call and let it ring once before hanging up. She’d call me back. I asked her to meet me.”
I can hardly breathe. I hate that it hurts. That they had a whole secret way to talk behind my back. And I hate that my anger and hurt have no solid ground to stand on.
“She was walking up to my truck, and I don’t know what it was. The heightened emotions. The very real possibility that me and you might be over. I don’t know. But I watched her get into the truck and I just knew. I knew that it couldn’t be anyone else but you.”
A sob escapes my throat without permission. What a tragedy we are. What a long night that was. From betrayal and breaking up, to love epiphanies, to pretending to drown in Lake Superior, to the love of my life marrying my sister and starting a family.
He seems to read my mind. He’s almost always been able to. “She was pregnant,” he says. “From before that night. She found out a few weeks after you were gone. It was the right thing to do.”
I nod. It was. Of course it was. Geny was pregnant and I was gone. We both knew I couldn’t come back. But only I really understood why.
“You let him around your kids,” I say.
I watch Wyatt’s jaw clench and unclench. “Yeah.”
I stay quiet and wait for him to continue. Eventually he does.
“I didn’t at first. I couldn’t just cut him off, as bad as I wanted to. He thought we were on the same team. Still does. So I had to be mindful of that. But I told him, Grace. I threatened him. If I saw him acting out of line again, in any way, I’d tell my mom everything.”
“So ole Frank is on the straight and narrow these days then.”
“As far as I know,” he says with a sigh.
“So then who is in my casket?” I know Frank had to confirm me dead somehow to cover his ass, but how did he get a body to replace me?
“No one,” Wyatt says.
“What do you mean? They said they found my body at the lake. The coroner had a report.”
“The coroner is as crooked as the rest of them,” Wyatt says. “They had to pretend to find your body so no one would keep looking. I swore to him that you were dead. That I made sure.”
I nod slowly, taking in the information. It makes sense. If they never found my body, the search would continue. Frank was assured I was dead, but he wanted this whole thing tied up as quickly as possible.
“So my family buried an empty casket?”
“Yes. Well, no. There’s a little over a hundred pounds of sandbags.”
“Sandbags?”
“Well, it had to feel like you were in it.”
He smirks at my expression and I laugh, though it shouldn’t be funny. It isn’t. Not really. But you don’t survive what we’ve been through without developing a dark sense of humor.
“I guess that ruins the surprise when I have the grave exhumed.”
“You’re having it exhumed?” He looks surprised, which surprises me.
“Of course I am. Everyone in town is wondering who is in my coffin. It would be weirder if I didn’t seem interested to know.”
He sighs and looks at the wall. “Yeah, I guess so. It’s going to stir up a lot of shit.”
“For who? For Frank?”
He nods. “And everyone else involved.”
I shrug. “Not my problem.”
Wyatt narrows his eyes at me. “He already tried to have you killed once, Grace. He can make it your problem.”
He’s right. Of course he is. “I’ll be careful,” I promise. “I’m still waiting for the funeral home to call me back with the time and day.”
I realize they probably should have called me by now. The woman said she’d have to notify the authorities, which almost certainly means Raven PD. Maybe they’ve put a hold on things somehow.
“Please. I don’t think Geny could handle losing you again. Not that she handled it the first time.”
“She seems to have managed just fine.”
“She didn’t. Grace, she was in and out of treatment for years. Please don’t tell her I told you this. She wouldn’t want you to know.”
I sit forward in my seat. “What do you mean treatment?”
Wyatt pushes his hand through his hair, seeming to consider whether he should tell me.
“She’d have these ‘episodes.’ That’s what she’d call them.
They were mental breakdowns. She’d stop eating, sleeping.
She’d lose track of time. Get all paranoid.
One time she was so convinced I was cheating on her that she installed a tracker on my phone and followed me around for weeks before I noticed.
She attacked one of the female supervisors at the shipping yard.
It got dangerous.” He notices my expression and continues.
“She goes long stretches without it happening. It only happens now when she’s under a lot of stress. ”
“Why didn’t either of you tell me about this sooner? She’s under a lot of stress now. Our dad just died and I just came back—”
“I know that, Grace. I’m keeping an eye on her.”
I sigh and cover my face with my hands. I’ve put her through so much. Too much.
Wyatt stands up. “I should get going.”
I stand up too. I want him to stay, but I know he can’t. I know he wouldn’t. He looks at me, a million unsaid things written on his face.
“I’ll try to smooth things over,” he says. “And to figure out how she knew about Frank.”
I bite my lip. “Be careful. If he was willing to have me killed to keep his secret, he could hurt Geny if he knows she knows.”
“I know. I’ll keep Frank at a distance. I’ll be careful. Promise.”
“Wyatt?”
He turns.
“Take care of my sister, okay?”
He nods once and leaves quickly, avoiding goodbyes.
It’s the safest way because there is no denying I still love him.
But my feelings don’t matter. He’s married, and though we were both willing to betray each other in our teens, we’ve learned what that kind of selfishness can lead to.
I’m still learning the collateral damage my actions caused.