Take It To The Grave Bundle 2: Take It to the Grave parts 4-6

“It’s going to be okay,” Lucy whispered, but inside, I knew Lucy was full of shit. I had never seen my sister like this. Not when my mother was beaten unconscious. Not when Peter broke Alice’s arm that time. Not even when Frankie had died, and the police had handcuffed our mother and settled her into the backseat of the cop car. No, this was something new, something disturbing.

My sister’s spirit had been broken. She’d been shattered, fragmented into these sharp little pieces that would never quite go back together again. I could feel her shaking in my arms, feel her sorrow, her sadness. It smothered us like Peter’s hand over my mother’s mouth. Whatever had happened between her and Caleb, I knew. I had lost the sister I knew.

First Dad. Then Alice. Okay, let’s not forget Frankie...and now Sarah. Under any other circumstances, Sarah would be comforting me at the departure of Caleb, as she had so many times before when he’d had to return to his mother’s home as the school break had drawn to a close. But no. That loving, caring, generous and protective side of my sister had been broken. Everything had changed. All those people whom I looked to for love, protection and support were dead or damaged beyond repair. Lucy kept patting Sarah’s hair, and I stared up at the ceiling. I was on my own, and I had to learn to fend for myself. Well, if everyone died, so would I. I let Lucy take over.

A few hours later I slid out of bed, trying not to wake Sarah, her face still mottled from her tears. I was busting to use the toilet, and I tiptoed over to my bedroom door. I opened the door quietly, making sure I put my foot down close to the jamb to avoid the creak in the floorboard beneath the carpet, and that’s when I saw it.

A piece of paper, neatly folded, with my name handwritten in Caleb’s familiar sprawl. For a brief moment, Lucy stepped back, and excitement swept through me, bringing a slight, secretive curl to my lips as I bent down to pick it up. I scurried to the bathroom, locking the door, and then hastily unfolded the note.

I will miss you, Maisey.

Caleb

I must have blacked out for a bit. I don’t remember the rest of the night, so I must have fallen asleep. I was calmer when I woke in the morning. I clutched the note to my chest and closed my eyes. Keen sadness at his departure warred with gratitude and love at this little gesture. And frustration. Frustration that the guy I loved had left. I swear, if Caleb had been mine, this wouldn’t have happened. Just look at the note. He cared for me, really cared for me. If we were the close ones instead of Sarah and him, Caleb would never have left. I was sure of it. I wouldn’t have let him leave. I wouldn’t have dissolved into tears; I would have fought for him, I would have talked with him, listened to him, cherished him like he needed to be cherished. Instead I cherished that note, that little sign that showed me that for whatever reason he was leaving, whatever had caused him to walk out in the middle of the night, that I had been on his mind. I had carried that note around the world with me ever since.

Peter was livid when he awoke the next morning to learn his son had left in the middle of the night. I was in the living room when he’d made this discovery, and my eyes darted to Sarah as our stepfather stormed into the living room. I wanted to hide, but Lucy said it would be all right, so I stayed. He grabbed Sarah by the shoulders and shook her so hard, her head had jerked with the movement. He pulled her close then, snarling in her face.

“If I find this is your fault, I will make you pay.”

Sarah gazed up at him so calmly, so serenely. I braced myself in the corner, cowering and hoping he wouldn’t come after me next, but I may as well have not existed, because his full focus was on my sister.

And she just stared at up him. She wasn’t trying to hide, like me. She wasn’t cowering; she was just cool, composed, like the placid surface of a lake. Seeing that unshaken equilibrium in the face of Peter’s rage, and despite my frustration and anger with my sister for letting Caleb go, I had to hand it to her, she reacted brilliantly. My respect for her grew—from my hiding spot in the corner. Her lack of reaction frustrated my stepfather. Peter stormed out of the house, swearing, and flung himself into his car and drove off.

I watched as Caleb’s stride matched mine, and we walked in unison up the path to the house. Unlike half an hour ago, my steps were moderate, and not the frenzied, frantic pace I’d been running. My heart rate had nearly slowed to normal, and I was no longer sick with anxiety, guilt or any other negative emotion. Caleb always had that effect on me. It was like he was an anchor in my storm, the eye in every cyclone...he was the beacon that led me back to those warm, safe, beautiful memories of my childhood that were so bright and joyous in a forest of darkness.

“So, tell me, Caleb, what was it like in the army? How long were you in for?” Lucy asked him, staring up in that wide-eyed, curious way that always had a man responding. I listened as he talked about boot camp, and then where he’d been deployed. I know Lucy was flirting with him, but I drank his conversation in, eager to hear about his experiences, his time away from me. I tried to tell myself that I was slipping into that familiar habit of hanging on to his every word, of inserting myself into his “now,” to try and make up for our lost time. The adoration and love was like an old, cozy pair of yoga pants—easy to slide into, conforming to your shape, comfortable to wear.

There was a tiny part, though, one that I wanted to ignore, because it wasn’t big of me, I’ll admit it. It was small, it was petty, but it was instinctive. Right here, right now, I had something that Sarah couldn’t. She was married, and had created a home for herself with Warwick. She couldn’t have Caleb, too.

For once, I felt successful, and yes, it shamed me that it was at my sister’s expense, but hell, with my life the way it was, it was probably the only success I could ever expect. For so long, I had drifted around Sarah’s orbit. She was always the one in control, the strong one, the one who could pull the strings and have people react and perform the way she wanted. It had always been Sarah and Caleb, and then maybe me off to the side.

Now, though, after seeing past the twenty-four-carat facade of her life, after hearing the whispered arguments, seeing the interaction between her and the rest of her acquired family, I thought that perhaps my sister wasn’t quite in control any longer. But here, right now, with Caleb at my side instead of Sarah’s, I felt like the one in control. This time, my sister could dance on the end of my strings.

“And what about you, Maisey? Alice mentioned you’re with Nurses Without Borders. Is it as exciting as it sounds?”

I laughed. “Not quite. I am a nurse, and lately I’ve been helping to set up clinics or orphanages...” I often got a little embarrassed explaining my job, although I wasn’t quite sure why. It was a noble profession, nursing, and I was proud of it, and of the work I did.

“Really? So when you’re not off saving the world, one remote medical clinic or orphanage at a time, and you’re not swanning it with the socially elite, where do you go? Where is home for you? I know it’s not with Alice.”

I shook my head, and tried not to shudder. No, my home was not with Alice. It hadn’t been since the day Frankie died and she was taken away in a squad car.

“I don’t really have a fixed address—apart from my email,” I joked. “I’ve been so busy I’ve just pretty much moved from project to project. This is the first time I’ve been back to the States in years. Nurses Without Borders usually has a job lined up for me at a site before the current one concludes, and I just move.”

“Well, I can relate to that. When I was in the army I moved five times in two years. Just packed up and headed out to wherever they needed me.”

We glanced at each other, and I think we were both surprised to see the similarity in our lives, but also to realize we shared an understanding that few could match.

After a moment, Caleb cleared his throat. “And you like the work?” he asked, looking down at me intently.

I nodded. “Yeah, I do.” I glanced down at the sand, shifting beneath our feet, and then the paved path appeared. Stability so close to volatility. A symbol of my life, really. “There is something about helping people,” I told him quietly, sincerely, and noticed that Lucy was also quiet now. “I love knowing that I’m doing something productive, but it’s more than that. I’m saving people’s lives. It’s humbling, and yet so uplifting, knowing that I can have such a profound impact on others’ lives. It’s addictive.” My lips twisted. And I would keep doing that work for as long as I could. For once, I was completely honest. This was more than a job for me. It was a vocation. My life’s mission, if you will. Help as many, save as many, as I could.

Caleb threw his arm around my shoulders, and dragged me to his side. “God, it’s so good to see you again, Maisey. I’ve missed this, so much.”

It took me a moment to process, so stunned was I at this admission, and then I relaxed against him, trying to lower my natural resistance.

It was a new kind of feeling, this closeness, and it took me a while to get past the surprise, the enjoyment.

Apart from that night Caleb had left, I couldn’t actually remember feeling this type of comfortable, loving touch of a family member since Alice went to prison.

I was surprised by how lovely it felt, so warm, so generous, so tender. I hoped I could get used to it.

Sarah

Bridget places the phone beside my plate the next morning, frowning slightly at my meager breakfast. Since I hadn’t been able to choke down a bite of dinner the night before, I’d decided I could have a slice of cantaloupe with my scrambled egg whites. Nothing sweet had touched my lips since that humiliating episode at the East Hamptons fair, so I’d been fantasizing about how wonderful the fruit will taste. As soon as I see the notification on my phone, however, my appetite vanishes. Bridget must have heard it buzzing and assumed it was important.

Pushing my plate away, I look around the table. No one is paying any attention to me. They’re all blissfully ensconced in their own little worlds. Warwick is eager to best his father on the links again. Eleanor is anxious about micromanaging her staff and greeting another group of out-of-town guests, and Alice is entertaining Caleb and Maisey with some crazy tale about her dream of being an aerialist in a traveling circus.

“Is everything all right? Your phone was beeping so I brought it out,” Bridget says, lowering her voice as she pours me more water. “I thought perhaps it was someone saying they can’t make the christening.”

“It’s nothing.” Of course I know it’s anything but, even though I haven’t had the courage to open the email yet. “Andrea sent her regrets.”

It’s a mistake to reference Eleanor’s party. My mother-in-law misses nothing when it comes to her soiree. “What did you say, Sarah? Who isn’t able to make it?”

Shit. It’s a fairly safe bet Eleanor would never have included down-to-earth Andrea on the guest list, but what if I’m wrong? I’d never intended my lie to be held up to close scrutiny. What if she asks to see the email?

“Andrea.”

Eleanor’s brow creases. “Who?”

“Andrea Waterton. She sits on the fair committee with you—she was the one with the booth across from mine this year.”

As my mother-in-law makes a big show of looking perplexed—tapping her chin, staring at the ceiling, and finally shaking her head—I’m tempted to hurl my slice of melon at her. Why does she always have to butt in? Why can’t she mind her own business?

Then again, she thinks this is about the party, and as far as she’s concerned, the party is her business.

“I don’t think I invited the Watertons. In fact, I’m positive I didn’t.”

Whew. “I had her on my list. She was one of mine.”

Eleanor starts to speak, and my hands ball into fists under the table. Fuck. She’s going to contradict me. I was an idiot to believe I’d get away with this bit of subterfuge. She has both lists memorized—this party is an obsession with her.

“What’s the problem?” Warwick raises an eyebrow at me. I don’t miss the threat in his voice, and I’m sure no one else does, either. I’ve been avoiding him as much as possible, delaying coming to bed until I’m positive he’ll be asleep.

“There’s no problem. Andrea Waterton let me know she won’t be able to make the party tomorrow, that’s all.”

“Who’s Andrea Waterton?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“She’s a friend of mine. It’s not important, really. I’ll catch up with her later.”

“Speaking of the party, is there anything I can do to help, Eleanor? I’ve checked my busy schedule and it turns out I have a free morning.”

Caleb’s diversion does the trick. My mother-in-law is well accustomed to issuing orders, and my stepbrother soon has a litany of to-dos that should keep him busy until the afternoon, if not beyond.

That was close. I’ll have to be more careful, unless I want everyone to know about the emails. That would only lead to more questions I can’t answer.

As soon as I’m confident no one is looking, I slip my napkin onto my lap, careful to keep my phone concealed beneath it. From there, it’s easy to hide the device in my pocket.

“Sarah?”

Startled, I realize Maisey has been talking to me. Did she see me pocket my phone like I’ve got something to hide? Christ, why didn’t I just act normally?

“Sorry, I was off in la-la land again. What did you say?”

“I asked if you’d like to go for a walk along the beach with me after breakfast. I’ve been running every morning since I got here. I can’t get enough of the sand. I thought it would be nice to walk together.”

The idea of walking on the sand in the broiling sun is about as appealing as having my teeth pulled.

“Oh, that’s a lovely idea. The exercise would do you a world of good,” Eleanor jumps in.

“I’m sure it would, but I have a to-do list of my own to tackle.” I infuse my words with so much fake cheer it makes me want to puke. I’m starting to become a Stepford wife. “Rain check?”

My sister’s face is flushed, and I notice she avoids Eleanor’s eyes. “Sure,” she says quickly. “Not a problem. There’s always tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Yet another day of waltzing through minefields. I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.

The second I’m able to escape the breakfast table, I retreat to my dressing room. This time I’m careful to lock the bedroom door behind me. There will be no more unexpected guests, not today.

My hands shake as I pull out my phone. The best thing to do would be to ignore it. Move it to the trash folder with the others, unread.

Tempting, but impossible. I have to read it. It’s a compulsion.

No one can run forever.

Sinking to the floor of my walk-in closet, I read the short sentence over and over again. The timing is a terrible coincidence.

Did someone see Caleb follow me into the nursery yesterday? Did they hear our conversation?

But that would mean someone close to me—someone in this very house—is sending me these awful threats. I can’t seriously consider that possibility. My nerves are already shot. Though I’d done my best to be the perfect host during last night’s dinner, I was petrified Warwick would see the truth of what I was feeling on my face.

Bridget has seemed cooler toward me, more formal, and I’m worried about what that means, assuming it means anything. Is she preoccupied? Stressed about the party? Or does she know what’s going on between Caleb and me?

Not that there’s anything going on, not really.

My stepbrother had been polite but distant all evening, lavishing more attention than usual on my mother and sister. They’d both bought into it, flattered by his interest. Even after his revelation, I couldn’t help but be envious of their easy relationship with him. Why were things always more complicated with me? Not for the first time, I wondered if we’d wrecked everything when we’d turned a wonderful friendship into a love affair. But we’d been dumb kids—what did we know about consequences?

No one can run forever.

It didn’t make any sense. I hadn’t exactly taken out an ad in the paper when I’d left Manhattan, but it wasn’t like I’d gone to any great lengths to hide, either. I’d taken Warwick’s last name when I married him. It wouldn’t be difficult for a client like Dan or Harvey to locate me if they wanted to, as Di had pointed out. So why the reference to running?

I’m pretending the emails don’t bother me, but they’re always at the back of my mind. Lately I’ve been spending most of my time in the nursery with Elliot. It’s about the only place I feel safe. Someone wants me to be miserable, that much is clear—but who?

If Truth Seeker had hoped to deter me from taking off, his emails were having the opposite effect. Caleb’s wistful suggestion that we run away together seems more and more tempting, but I can’t possibly go with him. I’d never leave Elliot behind, and there’s no way Warwick would willingly let go of his son.

As lovely as it is to pretend we can go back in time and everything will be like it was when we were kids, too many years have passed. There’s too much pain, too much ugly history Caleb doesn’t know about. For all his flaws, Warwick knows about Chantilly Lace and accepts that part of my past without a problem. But how would Caleb react if he found out? He’d never understand.

There are a lot of things he wouldn’t understand.

Two days from now, Caleb and Maisey will leave the Hamptons. Alice will go with them. All I have to do is keep it together until then. I’ll have to avoid Caleb as much as possible, being careful never to end up alone with him again. I can’t jeopardize Elliot’s future—or my own.

Sooner or later, Truth Seeker will reveal himself. Whatever terrible thing he wants, I’ll deal with it then. It’s just a matter of biding my time.

And biding my time is something I’ve become very good at.

No one can run forever.

Elliot whimpers in the other room, and I go to him, smiling.

Watch me, I think. Just watch me.

* * *

Steam billows out of the bathroom as I emerge from the shower. I’d expected the scalding water would soothe me, or at least clear my head, but it hadn’t had the usual effect. The meaning of the emails gnaws at me, destroying any hope that I’d find a bit of peace.

Warwick’s absence is the perfect excuse to open a window and let some fresh air into the bedroom. Tightening the sash on my bathrobe, I move the curtains aside, startled to see Maisey walking along the beach. I didn’t expect her to have made her way back to the house so quickly.

What startles me more is the fact she isn’t alone. Caleb is with her, and they look quite chummy. What happened to the errands he’s supposed to be doing for Eleanor? He can’t possibly have finished them already. He may be amazing, but he’s not Superman.

My sister edges closer to Caleb, bumping his shoulder with hers. Are we ten years old? Come on, Maisey. But if he minds her immaturity, it doesn’t show. He nudges her back. They appear to be having an intense conversation about something, and the serious expression on his face makes me nervous. What is she telling him?

Recalling how eager she’d been to discuss Frankie’s death yesterday, I find it difficult not to jump to conclusions. She’s not stupid enough to get into that with Caleb, is she? But what else do they have to talk about? What else would make him look that intense?

Just when I’m worried enough to start pounding on the window to distract them, Caleb throws an arm around my sister’s shoulders, bringing her close enough to muss her hair. Her laughter soars on the summer air, easily reaching my hiding spot as I duck behind the drapes. It’s sickening. Sometimes when the two of them are together, Maisey becomes someone completely different. It’s like she turns into this giggly ditz who isn’t like her at all. Why does she feel the need to go into this act with him?

What is she doing with him, anyway? Caleb was always my person, not hers.

For the first time, I consider that Maisey might have feelings for him. She’d always had a crush on him when she was little, but I’d never taken it seriously—there were too many years between them. Now that we’re adults, the age difference is negligible. We’re not kids anymore. Maisey’s single, and Caleb is extremely attractive. Between her travels and his service overseas, they probably have plenty in common. They both share an adventurous spirit. Why wouldn’t she have feelings for him?

And what do I care if she does? If I want Caleb, I can have him. He’d made that clear in the nursery, and I’d rejected his offer...hadn’t I? Was I seriously having second thoughts?

Where is this animosity coming from? It’s crazy. Before Alice brought him into my life again, I hadn’t spoken to Caleb in years. Maybe we’d once been close, but those days were long over. If anything, I feel awkward around him now, nothing like the easy friendship we used to have—the relationship he apparently has with my sister.

My jaw tightens as I lean against the wall, watching the two of them together. Although they’re both staying at my home, I’ve never felt more unnecessary. It’s obvious I’m the odd one out. They look so comfortable with each other, teasing and joking around.

I’ve missed him.

Caleb’s visits had been the highlight of my adolescence: swimming in the ocean, campfires on the beach, climbing down the drainpipe to go to the movies, sneaking out and playing hide-and-seek in the moonlight. He’d accepted me the way I was, warts and all. When he was around, I felt like I could be a normal teenager. During Caleb’s visits, Peter mostly behaved himself. He wasn’t nearly as nasty to us.

Maybe if we’d stayed together, life could have been good again.

I had to quit thinking like this. We’d been kids, and it had been a summer fling, nothing more.

Whatever we had between us, obviously we weren’t soul mates. If we had been, he never would have left.

Below me, Maisey and Caleb are saying goodbye. She wraps her hand around his neck and urges him forward, kissing his cheek. That doesn’t look sisterly. Caleb’s eyes widen, but he gives her a little hug before heading in the opposite direction. I exhale as he leaves her behind. I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath.

He slows as he nears the house, staring up at my window. Though I’m hidden behind the curtain, I’m afraid he can see me, anyway, that he’s well aware I’m watching. He always did have a talent for reading my mind.

Scrutinizing my window as if he’s searching for something, he gives his head a little shake before moving on down the beach. Did he see the curtain twitch when he was with Maisey? Can he feel me watching him? Did he want me to see him with my sister?

What are you playing at, Caleb?

* * *

I find Maisey in the rose garden. Good, we definitely need to talk. This time I’m ready to listen to whatever she has to say.

I’m about to greet her when I realize she isn’t alone.

“It’s not a big deal,” my sister says to an unseen companion, the color rising in her cheeks. I turn to go. She’s with Caleb, again? I stop when a feminine voice responds.

“Of course it’s a big deal. It’s a huge deal. I’m so proud of you, my Little Monster. I always knew you were meant for great things. You wanted to make the world a better place, and now you’re doing it. Even Peter would have been proud.”

Ugh. Not Caleb. Even worse—it’s Alice. I should have known.

Mother had asked me to give her a more in-depth tour of the gardens this morning, but I’d begged off, using my son as an excuse. I was finding it more and more difficult to be around her. She’s as loud and inappropriate as always, but now she is scatterbrained as well. I can’t fathom how she has the nerve to talk about Peter in front of us. That horrible man had hurt her too, but didn’t she understand what we’d gone through? Didn’t she get what he’d done to us? What he’d done to me? Whatever was left of our childhood when Dad died had been ruined by that nightmare.