The image of him disappeared right next to the coffee table, as my eyes landed on my grandmother’s journal. She had left the journal for me, and me specifically.
“All right, Grandma,” I said, kicking off my shoes and sitting on the couch, journal in hand. “Just what were you trying to tell me by leaving this? What’s in the pages that’s so important I had to read it? It’s time to figure out your mystery. Not to mention why you couldn’t just come out andsay it. You were never one to do things by accident or without meaning, but this time you’ve outdone yourself on the complexity. I’m fumbling in the dark here. The only thing that’s come out of it is meeting Lincoln.”
I sat up straight. “No. No way. That can’t be it. She couldn’t have been. That’sway too diabolical. Even for her. There’s more to this than my love life.”
There is no way she put this all together as an elaborate way to set me up with him. She wouldn’t involve her death like that. Lincoln may be hot, but he’s not worth losing you over, Grandma. Besides, you knew I was still dating Caidyn. After that spectacular explosive ending, I think my dating life is going on hold for a bit, thank you very much!
Thinking of the ex reminded me I probably had a whole new wave of messages on my phone. Pulling my phone from my purse, I glanced at it-
And immediately regretted it.
“What aloser
,” I moaned angrily, swiping away the two dozen missed call notifications along with the angry text messages about being ignored, demanding that I respond and insisting we need to talk. That we could work through this if I would just talk to him. Lots of swearing.
“I’m so done with you,” I muttered, swiping it all away and tossing my phone down. I gripped the journal with both hands, open to page one.
I considered just flipping to the final entry, the last one she ever wrote, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. The wound was just a little too fresh. Better if I started from the beginning and worked up to it. That way, it wouldn’t hurt as much.
But as I adjusted my grip to begin reading, I noticed something in the pages. One of them had been dog-eared, the tip folded down to mark a spot.
Did you do that on purpose, Grandma?
I opened to that page and read what she wrote. The language was weird. All English, but she’d written it not as a journal entry but as a letter.
Could she have done this on purpose for me?
There was more talk about the guardian and how it was the duty of him and his people to protect the town and keep the forest secure. It talked about how a century and a half ago, they had done so with honor and duty, despite a tremendous cost. She put emphasis on that part, reminding the reader that such things need always be remembered. That even ifhis people forgot, others must not.
I read on:
There is a link between us and them and a bond that must remain. If it is not restored, there will be nothing for the guardian to protect. When I am gone, what remains of that bond with the forest will go with me.
Unless it is taken up by another of my blood.
I looked up, tearing my eyes away from the page with great difficulty. That was damnably ominous and could hardly be vague. She could have written this letter-entry for only one person. Only one “of her blood” that it could be referring to.
Me.
Unfortunately, while that part was clear-I knew she couldn’t be referring to my uncles, if they even lived, no, this was meant for me and me alone-the rest was still a blur that had no meaning.
A bond? What type of bond? How does one bond with a forest? That’s impossible.
And what happened 150 years ago? That’s ancient history.
I sank back into the couch. History, hmm? Seemed like something the New Lockwood Historical Society would know about. Now I definitely had to go visit them and see what my grandmother was up to there. She had a finger in so many more pots than I’d ever known.
And that, I was discovering, was what hurt the most. That if I had never left, never been forced to go by my parents, I might never have missed out on all of it. Maybe my grandmother would have confided in me.
Maybe she would have trusted me.
Sylvie
The clock on my phone’s display flicked over to 5:25, and at that precise moment I pressed the doorbell button. A lovely little rising and falling chime could be heard from inside, much more pleasant than the standardding-dong. Very typical of the Atkinsons.
“Well, would you look at the time,” Mr. Atkinson said with a laugh as he pulled the door open.
“Dinner is served at five thirty,” I pointed out. “I was told not to be late, and I keep promises.”
“Well, do come in then. Otherwise, youwillbe late.”
Don stepped out of the way, letting me inside. I hadn’t stepped over the threshold before I was body-slammed by the incredible aroma infusing the house. Warm bread mixed with garlic and various herbs that I couldn’t place shot up my nostrils and into the pleasure centers of my brain.
“Oh my god,” I moaned excitedly, following Don into the kitchen at a gesture. “That smellsamazing.”
“Why, thank you,” Mrs. Atkinson said from next to the stove, beaming from ear to ear at the compliment.
“Not that I expected any different. Your cooking is always phenomenal, but still, you may have outdone yourself this time!”
“That’s my Nina,” Don said, staring at his wife with unabashed love and pride.
“Oh, quiet you,” Nina said, flicking a hand towel at his direction while she tittered happily.
“I ever tell you why I don’t play the lottery?” Don said, turning to me. “It’s because I already won it. Biggest prize there could ever be, and I turned up the lucky numbers.”
“Numbers?” I asked.
“At the company picnic way back when,” Don said with a grin as his wife blushed more. “She and two friends were walking through the park on their way to some fitness class or another. And she just … you couldn’t miss her. Two of my buddies from work tried to stop her, get her to give them her number. She just laughed them off. Not me. She stopped for me.”
“You fell and scraped your knee! I wanted to make sure you were okay!” Nina exclaimed.
Don grinned. “Funny that. Isn’t it? How someone could fall on flat grassy ground, and give themselves a good cut.”
Nina’s mouth fell open. “Youfaked it
? And you’ve never told me all this time?”
Don winked at me as I laughed a full belly laugh. It felt good. Seeing that sort of interaction, the banter,that made me believe in true love. Seeing people like the Atkinsons, Don and Nina. They were the real deal. Head over heels for one another. Always gushing about their partner, never insulting them.
I wanted that. Needed it.
Unable to stop it, my brain replayed the list of events where Caidyn had done such a thing for me. Or tried to. The circle onthe screen just kept going around until my brain turned up an error.
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