40. It’s Not Here
It’s Not Here
Cara
When Zoe asked Doug if she could take Bowie away to the beach for a couple of nights, I was relieved that he could relax. He’s been so on edge this week. Jessie has disappeared, with no contact with Doug or Bowie, and he’s just expecting something to blow up at any moment. Knowing Bowie is safe and enjoying herself with Zo means he can at least breathe a little easier on that front.
Leo is in town, visiting his dad, and has invited Doug for a beer to talk about everything, so I’ve decided to take Lynnie up on her offer to come and look through more of her photos and learn a bit more about the town.
‘Oh, Harley, get off the poor girl.’
I laugh as Lynnie joins me on the porch, a tray carrying a jug of fresh lemonade and two glasses in her hands.
‘She’s okay.’ I pet the golden retriever as she pushes herself onto my lap a bit more, desperate for attention.
‘She’s a pain in the butt,’ Lynnie says with a smile, and I see her affection for the dog.
She pours the lemonade into glasses and hands me one before sitting in the chair next to mine.
‘Harley, go and get a drink.’
Like the good girl she is, Harley jumps down and trots inside the house.
‘So, Mrs. Abernathy gave me some photographs to show you. She thought you’d be interested to see.’
She reaches for the binder on the table and hands it to me. I open and look at the old black and white photos of the town and people smiling for the camera in beautiful vintage clothes. I recognize the buildings—they’ve hardly changed.
‘That’s my mother-in-law,’ she says with a smile, and I look down at the young woman in the photograph. She looks so cool in jeans and a white sweater, and there’s something sort of familiar about her. ‘She always said her dad hated her wearing jeans, but she liked to be different.’ She chuckles, and I turn the page, then gasp.
‘My house.’
The first photo is just the house, taken from out front. Underneath. it says in beautiful cursive writing:
The Reynolds Farmhouse, 1 Forest Falls Road.
I focus on the image. It’s in black and white, so I can’t pick out the color of the sky, but I know it’s as beautifully bright blue as it is today. The front garden is full of flowers, and there is so much life in the photo. The windows are open, and I can see the curtains hanging at them. I can see a pan steaming on the kitchen window ledge and a vase full of flowers in what is now my bedroom window.
Emotion tightens my throat. That’s my house, but it’s not the empty shell that I first found or the beautiful property Doug created. This is the Reynolds farmhouse. It’s where my story began, and in this photo, I feel a connection to this house, this town, and these people, more than I ever have.
This house was always supposed to be mine.
The next photo shows a young couple on the steps. The man is leaning casually against the railing, and the woman, pregnant, stands proud on the top step in a beautiful flowing gown, her long wavy hair draping over her shoulders.
‘That’s your grandma,’ Lynnie says, then points to the baby bump in the photo. ‘And that’s Charlotte.’
The emotion I was barely holding back spills out of me, and I choke out a sob. Mum , that’s my lovely mum.
‘She looks so happy,’ I say after a while.
‘She was. Roberta was always so proud of Charlotte.’
It makes me sad. How could a close family like that just never talk to each other again because of a teen pregnancy? I mean, I know it was frowned upon, but really, to just cut all ties.
‘She must have really missed her.’
‘Yeah, she did.’
The way she says that has me turning to look at her. Her tone is off, quiet, sad, like she knows more than she’s letting on.
‘Lynnie…’
‘Cara, it’s not my story to tell.’
‘But they’re all dead.’
‘Your dad isn’t.’ She pulls her lips in as though she regrets what she said, and my eyes widen.
‘My dad. Does he know everything?’
‘Cara, please. I promised.’
‘A dead woman. You promised her, not knowing I’d be sitting in front of you.’
She reaches for my hand.
‘Talk to your dad, honey. I’m sorry, but promises mean a lot to me.’
I try to focus on the photos, try not to sour the mood, but Lynnie can tell I’m off. As she packs up the albums into a bag for me to take away, she’s quiet, and the hug she gives me before I leave tells me how sorry she is, how worried she is that this has affected our budding relationship.
‘I understand, Lynnie. She was your friend, and this isn’t your mess to clean up.’ I smile, and she nods. Then I get in the car and drive home.
Dad doesn’t answer my call, so I send him a text and ask him to call me as soon as he can. Then I get to work. I look through the photos Lynnie gave me, trying to piece together a timeline of Mum’s life in Forest Falls. I find some photos with Dad in, so I know they must be some of the last ones before she left. Then I look for my box.
When Dad handed me the shoebox of letters, photos, and greeting cards, I only looked at a couple of things before I slammed the lid back on, furious with him for keeping this secret from me and furious with Mum.
I look in the cabinet in the living room where I’m sure I put it, but it’s not there, so I head to the understairs cupboard where anything that doesn’t yet have a place lives.
I rifle through the boxes and shelves, but it’s not there either. ‘Where the fuck,’ I mutter to myself as I try to remember the last time I saw it.
Heading upstairs, I check under my bed, in my wardrobe, the guest rooms, the reading nook, and nothing. I know I haven’t put it in the attic because there’s nothing up there. It must be in here somewhere.
I look again, pulling out boxes stored in all the rooms, before heading back downstairs. Knowing it’s not there before I’ve even looked, I open the pantry, the laundry room, and even the kitchen cupboards—not here.
I head outside and open up my car, looking behind and under the seats and in the boot—not here.
Have I ever seen it in this house? Could I have left it in the cabin? The thought panics me, and I feel frantic. Zoe is away with Bo, so I can’t ask her. I could head down to the bar now and ask Bud, Zoe’s deputy manager, but if she’s put it somewhere safe, he wouldn’t know. She would have told me, though. She would have given it back. It’s been over a month since I left the cabin.
I’m getting frantic, remembering that I looked through it after that first night at Lynnie’s so that means it must be here. I turn to head back inside when I hear the rumble of Doug’s bike. Since he doesn’t have Bowie, he’s been using the bike to get around. He parks and climbs off, depositing his helmet before walking toward me, his smile falling when he sees my expression.
‘What’s wrong?’
I don’t want to worry him. ‘Nothing, it’s nothing.’ I chew my lip, and he tilts his head.
‘Cara, tell me.’
I take a breath, then offload. ‘I can’t find something, and it’s important. And I’ve looked everywhere, and it’s not here, and I’m panicking.’
‘Hey.’ He reaches out and grabs my arms gently, but I’m getting upset thinking about the irreplaceable contents of that box. ‘It’s okay. I’ll help you look.’
‘No, you don’t... You can’t...’ I inhale deeply. ‘I’ve looked everywhere. It’s not here.’
‘Okay, what is it?’
‘It’s a box. A shoebox of letters and things.’
And the deed to the house, I remember. I put it in there, along with the printout the bank gave me of the account Roberta left. Oh god.
‘Things somebody might want to take?’
I raise my gaze to meet his, and his sympathetic half-smile tells me everything I need to know. The break-in. Jessie. Shit.