[CHAPTER 2]
The garden office smelled like dust, wet wood, and old paper.
Dad pushed the door open with his shoulder after the brass key turned inside the rusted lock.
I stood behind him on my crutches.
Noah stayed so close to me that his sleeve brushed mine.
None of us spoke.
The room looked abandoned.
A wooden desk sat beneath the only window.
Old gardening books covered one shelf.
A broken lamp leaned against the wall.
Nothing looked important enough to have frightened a dying woman.
Dad moved toward the desk.
“Did your mother tell you where she hid the letter?”
Noah nodded.
“Behind the green cabinet.”
Dad crossed the room.
The cabinet was heavy.
He pulled once.
Nothing happened.
Then he braced his foot against the floor and dragged it forward.
Something scraped behind it.
A white envelope dropped onto the floor.
My name was written across the front.
CLARA.
Dad froze.
I recognized the handwriting.
Mara used to leave notes beside my lunch when she knew I had a difficult day at school.
Eat something.
You think better when you aren’t hungry.
I suddenly remembered those silly notes so clearly that tears filled my eyes.
Dad picked up the envelope.
“There’s another one.”
Behind it lay a second envelope.
DAVID.
Dad’s name.
His hands began shaking.
He opened his first.
I watched his eyes move across the page.
Then stop.
“What does it say?”
He did not answer.
“Dad.”
He lowered the letter.
His face looked sick.
“It says Mara saw Lydia follow you into the garden the afternoon you were injured.”
I gripped my crutch.
“Read it.”
“Clara—”
“Please.”
He looked at me for several seconds.
Then he read.
“David, if you are reading this, I either finally became brave enough to give you this letter, or I waited until it was too late.”
Noah turned away.
I squeezed his shoulder.
Dad continued.
“I heard Lydia arguing with Clara outside the library. Clara kept saying she would tell you what she had heard. Lydia told her she did not understand what she was talking about.”
My pulse began racing.
What had I heard?
Dad’s voice grew rough.
“Mara followed because she was afraid. She saw you run toward the garden, Clara.”
He swallowed.
“She saw Lydia go after you.”
A memory flashed.
My bedroom door.
A telephone conversation.
Lydia whispering.
Money.
Someone named Martin.
My mother’s name.
Then nothing.
Dad continued.
“Mara says Lydia caught you near the stone path.”
My left leg began aching.
Not from the injury.
From memory.
I saw Lydia’s fingers around my arm.
Her ring scratching my skin.
“She pulled me.”
Dad stopped reading.
I stared through the dirty window.
“She pulled me backward.”
Noah looked at me.
I closed my eyes.
“I screamed.”
Another image.
Lydia’s face.
Terrified.
Not angry anymore.
Terrified because I was screaming loudly enough for someone to hear.
“I got away.”
My breathing quickened.
“I ran.”
Dad came toward me.
“And then?”
“I don’t know.”
I hated saying those words.
Dad returned to the letter.
“Mara says you jerked free. Lydia reached for you again. You stumbled near the broken edge of the path and fell down the embankment.”
My stomach twisted.
The embankment led toward the old irrigation ditch.
That was where Dad had found me unconscious.
Lydia had always said she found me first.
That she screamed for help.
That she had been inside the house until she heard the gardeners shouting.
It had all been a lie.
Dad kept reading.
“Mara was about to run toward Clara, but Lydia saw her.”
Noah’s eyes closed.
“She told Mara not to move.”
Dad’s voice broke.
“She said if Mara told anyone what she had seen, she would accuse her of stealing jewelry from the house and make sure she lost custody of Noah.”
Noah began crying.
I put one arm around him.
His mother had been afraid of losing him.
I understood immediately why the threat had worked.
Dad lowered the page.
“Oh God.”
“It wasn’t her fault,” Noah whispered.
Dad crouched in front of him.
“No.”
His voice became firm.
“It was not your mother’s fault.”
Noah looked at him.
“She wanted to tell you.”
“I believe you.”
Dad’s expression crushed me.
Because underneath his anger was guilt.
He had lived in the same house with Lydia.
Slept beside her.
Defended her.
While Mara carried this alone.
Dad unfolded the second page.
“There’s more.”
I stared at him.
He read silently first.
Then his face changed again.
“What?”
He looked at me.
“Mara says the accident wasn’t the real secret.”
My skin turned cold.
“What was?”
“She thinks what you overheard was.”
Dad read aloud.
“Clara heard Lydia discussing transfers from the Whitmore Family Trust.”
I stopped breathing.
My mother’s trust.
Before Mom died, she placed most of her inheritance into a trust for me.
I could not access it until I turned twenty-five.
Dad was trustee.
At least I thought he was.
Dad stared at the letter.
“This is impossible.”
“What?”
“Only I can authorize transfers.”
Noah pointed.
“There’s something written on the bottom.”
Dad looked.
Three words.
CHECK THE GREENHOUSE.
Underneath them was a number.
4172.
Dad folded the letter quickly.
“We’re going there.”
A floorboard creaked outside.
All three of us turned.
Someone was standing beyond the door.
Dad stepped in front of me.
“Who’s there?”
No answer.
He walked outside.
I heard him swear.
By the time Noah and I reached the doorway, the garden was empty.
But the grass beside the path was flattened.
Someone had been listening.
Dad pulled out his phone.
“I’m calling the police.”
Before he could unlock it, Lydia’s voice came from behind us.
“You don’t need the police.”
I turned.
She stood twenty feet away.
Perfect hair.
Cream dress.
Barely any expression.
Her gaze moved from Dad to Noah.
Then to the letters in Dad’s hand.
For one second, the calm disappeared.
I saw fear.
Real fear.
Then she smiled.
“What exactly has that child been telling you?”
Dad stepped toward her.
“Enough.”
Lydia sighed.
“David, before you destroy this family over the lies of a dead employee, you should know something about Mara.”
Noah flinched.
I felt anger burn through me.
“Don’t talk about his mother like that.”
Lydia looked at me.
Her eyes softened instantly.
“Clara, sweetheart, you’re confused.”
Those words.
Again.
The same words she had used for months.
Something inside me changed.
I lifted my chin.
“No.”
May you like
Her smile faded.
“For the first time,” I said, “I’m not.”
