Or sometimes she just comes to my place and swaps out a dead battery for a full one.”
“Wow. I guess you guys have a good system.”
He shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. “It’s mostly for emergencies. I doubt she keeps it on most of the time. But it has GPS, so if she got in real trouble, she could call for help and a rescue crew could get out here.”
“Or if she has a bear in her cabin, she can let you know.”
He grinned. “Exactly.”
Henrietta worked quietly, righting her belongings. Picking things up off the floor and finding places for them on her many shelves.
“Can we help?” I asked.
She nodded, so Gibson and I picked up what we could. She directed us with silent gestures, ensuring we put things where she wanted them.
“You have quite the interesting collection.” I righted a little wooden sign that had toppled over. The paint was faded almost to nothing, but I could see the faint outline of the words ice cream.
She beamed with pride, clasping her hands and looking around.
There was a beat-up Virginia license plate next to the ice cream sign. I brushed my fingers across the bent metal, and it felt like a bolt of electricity shot through my body. Gasping, I jerked my hand away.
“You all right?” Gibson asked. “Did you touch something sharp?”
“No.” I stared at the license plate, unable to look away. The frame was warped, but still intact. White scratches marred the surface, but I could read it. Richmond Music and Dance Academy.
The box in my mind exploded, as if a bomb had gone off inside, blowing the lid off its hinges. I clutched my chest, gasping for air. I couldn’t breathe.
“Callie, what’s wrong?”
My arms burned, as if new slices oozed blood. As if I was sixteen all over again, with razor cuts in my skin. Shoving my sleeves up, I stared at my arms. The scars were still covered in tattoos. No blood. No new wounds.
But I knew. I remembered. Those old memories that had been shrouded with hazy darkness suddenly broke free, clear and terrifying. The last piece of Callie’s life—the piece I’d buried so deep it could never hurt me again—came ripping to the surface.
“It was her.”
“Honey, what’s going on?” Gibson was there, his hands on the sides of my face, his brow furrowed with concern.
“My mom had a license plate like that,” I said, my voice shaky and weak. “I took music lessons there and they gave us those frames. She put it on her car. It was prestigious. I had to audition to get in. She wanted everyone to know.”
He brushed my hair back from my face. “You don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do.” I held his arms, drawing strength from his touch. I kept my eyes down, remembering.
35
CALLIE
Thirteen years ago
A droplet of sweat trickled down my back as I walked down my driveway. I’d been at the lake all day, but that wasn’t why I was sweating now. I didn’t know what was wrong, really. I wasn’t coming home late. I hadn’t done anything that I wasn’t allowed to do.
Today, that is. Yesterday was another story. But my parents didn’t know about that.
I tugged at the sleeves of my red cardigan—a reflexive gesture. They were already down. It was amazing how quickly I could go from feeling relaxed and carefree—hanging out with all the Bootleg Springs kids—to anxious and afraid. This was my home—my summer home, at least. The sight of it shouldn’t have made my stomach knot with fear. But I couldn’t remember a time when I’d felt safe at home.
Taking a deep breath, I went inside.
I closed the door hard enough that it would make a sound without slamming it. It was a delicate balance—make sure they knew I was home, but avoid calling too much attention to myself.
Luck seemed to be in my corner this evening. Dad was in his study, but Mom was nowhere to be seen. He looked up as I walked by, giving me a brief nod. Even seated, my father was an imposing figure. His hair was going white, but his shoulders were square, his posture rigid. He was authority personified.
The tightness in my back eased as I went upstairs to my room and softly closed the door behind me. The lavender floral bedspread had ruffles around the edges, and a pile of decorative pillows were placed with precision. The walls were painted lavender to match, the furniture all whitewashed beige.