Fourteen Grace
It’s the woman from outside the funeral home. The one who set into Frank. I recognize her, but I still can’t place how I know her. I follow Brooke down the bleachers and a ways toward the parking lot. She stops and turns toward me once we’re away from everyone.
“I doubt you remember me,” she says. “Morgan was my sister. Morgan O’Neil.”
My heart hammers double time in my chest as her face clicks into place in my memory. “Oh wow. Yeah, I remember you. You were away at college when Morgan and I were friends.”
She nods. “Yeah. And when she died.”
There’s a sharp pang in my chest. Morgan died in the lake, just like I was supposed to have.
We were sophomores in high school when she joined the cross-country team, and we got really close over the few months we hung out.
She’d been hanging out with a bad crowd before and seemed to want to change directions.
And she did. For a while.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I say. “I know those words feel hollow. But I am sorry. She was a good friend to me.”
She smiles sadly. “Thanks.”
I use a page from Sheriff Gibbs’s book and wait for her to say more. She didn’t pull me away from everyone just to tell me who her sister was.
“The police buried a body and said you were dead. Frank Gibbs was the one to identify you.”
I nod.
“I thought it was weird back then. Lake Superior doesn’t give up her dead. They rarely find anyone. But they found you.”
“Except they didn’t,” I say.
“Except they didn’t.”
“They never found Morgan,” I say.
“No,” she says. “They barely looked. The case was closed out of nowhere, it seemed. Even though Morgan would never go in the lake. She hated cold water.”
I remember that about her. The few times she hung out with me and my friends at the beach, she refused to get in.
I loved the icy-cold water. No one can go in for very long without becoming hypothermic.
But our beach got the most sun in the shallow bay, so it wasn’t as bad.
I always swam out to the cove of trees to make out with Wyatt in private.
“They said she was drinking that night, but I don’t think she was,” Brooke continues.
“She didn’t hang out with her old crowd anymore. She didn’t drink anymore.” I confirm what I knew back then. Or what I think I knew.
She nods. “Then they closed the case after talking to almost no one. And when I kept asking questions, I was arrested for possession of marijuana even though I’ve never smoked once in my life.”
“What?” I don’t remember anything about that.
“Yep. After I moved home, I got a job at the bowling alley. I was pulled over on my way home. They searched my car and said they found a stash under my seat.”
I’m not sure what to say. Isn’t that the go-to line? It isn’t mine. I’ve never seen those drugs before.
But then I remember conversations I had with Morgan. How she felt like the black sheep because her older sister was straight as an arrow. She loved her sister and she didn’t want to keep letting her down. It was a big reason she joined cross-country and stopped hanging out with her old friends.
“Are you saying the cop planted it in your car?” I ask.
“That’s what I’m saying.” Brooke’s eyes go to something behind me.
I turn around to see Geny approaching us.
“Take my number,” she says. “We can talk later.”
I take out my cell phone and hand it to her so she can type in her number. She hands it back to me and walks away before Geny gets to us.
“Is everything okay?” Geny asks.
“Yeah.” I watch Brooke’s back as she goes to the parking lot.
I look at my phone, still open to the screen Brooke put her number into. It’s typed into the notes app with her name and a note.
Please don’t tell anyone what we talked about.
“What did she want?” Geny asks.
“She just wanted to say hi,” I say. “I was friends with her sister, Morgan. Morgan died in high school, remember? She said she just felt like Morgan would have wanted her to say hi.”
Geny stares at me, but I smile and take her hand.
“Let’s get back to the game.”
We walk back to the stands, but I don’t see Wyatt and Frank. Not right away. But then I spot them a little way away from the bleachers on the opposite side of where we just were. Frank has his back to me, but I can see Wyatt’s face. He looks upset. Angry maybe?
Geny doesn’t seem to notice them as we get closer.
She walks right up to her spot on the bleachers, but I keep straight, toward the two Gibbs men.
I still can’t make out words, but I catch the tone.
Definitely angry. Frank jabs a finger in Wyatt’s face, making him take a step back.
Then his eyes cast up and he notices me.
His expression changes and he mumbles something to his father, who spins around so quickly the fury on his face isn’t quite gone yet.
He recovers quickly with a fake smile, but Wyatt’s face is still one of a child scolded by his father.
“Hi, Grace,” Frank says. “Game over?” He looks to the field as the kids line up to shake hands.
“Yep.”
He walks back toward me, clapping my shoulder as he passes to the edge of the bleachers where the kids start to gather to collect their post-game snack. I watch Wyatt and he watches me back, not saying a word, until he finally joins his father.