The Truths We Make (House of Poe #1)

13. Discarded Stones

Discarded Stones

Thursday, Present

“ D id you get it?” I ask.

We don’t even make it to the car before I need to know about the picture, the real reason we’re even here. Paxton was clever. I’ll give him that. Making me face my father in perhaps the only scenario I would have. And if I’d known the clue would’ve led me here? I’m not sure I would have come. A small voice inside whispers, yes you would . I suppose I found it odd that he’d picked the beach memory as a clue and dragged us down only miles from where my family was finally and truly broken.

He always was one to wrap plans inside plans. Why not have us chasing down his murderer and make us face the things we always refused him when he was alive? It was just like Paxton to need to be right and I guess death didn’t change that. Slivers of irritation open in my chest at the thought. Momma always says not to be angry at the dead, but I think this might be the exception.

I’m pulled from my thoughts by Oliver’s wicked smile. He slips a small rectangle from his coat pocket and holds it out so I can just see the silhouettes of the group over the roof of the car before hiding it back, away from view. My sigh contains an irritated growl, coming out as more of a struggle than an intimidation as it’s meant to .

“Well? Are you going to share with the class?” I ask sarcastically.

He rolls his eyes. “ A watch’s minute hand moves more quickly than did mine. Patience,” he whispers before ducking into the car.

“Do not quote Edgar to me!” I squeal as I scramble in, too. “And really, you’re going to bring The Tell-Tale Heart into this? Are you trying to tell me you killed him?”

The joke is supposed to land, a needling to rile, instead of an actual accusation. Especially since I’m now unsure if I’m convinced he was murdered to begin with. But it doesn’t. It drops into the canyon between us with an echoing thud. Oliver’s mouth hanging before his glare rips me open.

“Regardless of what you think, regardless of how our relationship seemed in the end, Eve, I loved my brother more than any other person on this planet. In the history of loving other people. Not even you could change that, even after you tore us all apart.”

His chest heaves and I know I need to dig the splinter out of us now before it goes any deeper.

“Oliver, I—I didn’t mean it. I was trying to be funny. Of course, I don’t think you killed Pax. But I didn’t either. We must stop blaming—”

“ We . WE? You mean you need to stop blaming me. You think I didn’t recognize that pullout the moment we got here? That I didn’t know exactly where this clue was leading us? Darkness, this was the first time we started breaking. All of us.” He rakes his hands through his hair, eyes wide with the confession. “From the minute you got back on that plane home, I felt like I’d lost a piece of you. That you’d left it here. Pax felt it, too. But we both knew you blamed me for it. And now, seeing you… forgive him and still be yelling at me? I get that he’s your dad, but after everything he put you through. Sobriety doesn’t erase the abuse he doled when he was drunk, and yet you just accepted it.”

He’s visibly shaking with anger until he looks at me and takes a deep breath before continuing, “For once, I feel like I don’t know you.”

The glass I’ve placed around my patience, the one labeled ‘ break only in case of emergency’, explodes. The way Oliver sounds is as if he doesn’t know what happened, what he did, or what he said. As if I was the only one who came back different. As if it was only me who decided nothing could be the same again.

“Are you serious?” I shout. “ You were the one who made sure I knew my roots grew here. That the bond between you and Paxton was just that… between you two. You were family, after all, and I was just the stupid little girl that fell into your laps. Dirty and full of wasted potential. The trip here only made you see exactly how far below your stature I was. And in the car, all you wanted to do was leave me behind. Forget this place existed. That I existed. You broke us, Oliver. You.”

I’m stabbing my fingers into his chest, our positions in the car making my words echo with each punctuation I make. He shifts towards me, bewildered and wild.

“What are you talking about? I remember that day clearly. It stands out in only the handful of truly bad days we’ve had together, and I didn’t do any of those things. Eve, I tried to remind you that Paxton and I were your family. That you needed to leave him behind. That there was nothing for you here. Everything you would ever need was back at Dellbrook. With us. That you were better than anything this place could give you. You deserved more. But you wouldn’t hear it. Couldn’t let go. For some reason, you rejected me. Even though they abused your love. Even though they wanted to drag you back into an unhappy abyss. I’ve loved your loyalty from the start, that stubbornness that made me beg my mother to give yours the job, but I never thought it’d be used against me. Not like this.”

My mind reels, thrown back into a decade of memories. I replay every word I can remember, every look. Paxton’s interruptions and sad eyes. Oliver’s desperation for me to see him. Every part of me wants to reject what he’s saying now, to settle into the comfort of what I’ve been sure has always been. But the plea and anger in this car, exuding from him, doesn’t allow me to. His chest is heaving, taking up all the oxygen I need to think clearly, to remember why we don’t talk about the past and why I shouldn’t find reasons to love him again.

“Oliver, my loyalty has always been yours. I don’t forgive him. There’s still such a big part of me that is so angry with my dad. I don’t want to be his daughter, but I can’t change it. I can’t remove every piece of me that he gave. And I can’t erase the pull my cells have to be whole again, in a way that only letting go will allow.” I push the desperation into my eyes for Oliver to see me, to understand.

“Back then, I thought I needed them to want me, to see me, and while I was begging to find that, you were telling me I didn’t belong. That I’ve never belonged.” Oliver opens his mouth, wanting to interrupt. I don’t allow him. “No, it’s true. I may have been wrong about your intentions, but that’s what I felt . And back then, I needed something different. Now, I just need to let myself rest in the fact that I love them despite whether or not they deserve it. I have to forgive myself .”

My voice is cracking. Fresh waves of tears stream out with every syllable. I know one day I’ll read a poem in a book with a name I know as well as my own, and see this moment reflected in every word. The determined focus of his gaze and trembling bend of his brow tells me he’s cataloging it all. Storing it away. But I can’t stop giving him the ink to spill. So many pieces of me still want to be his muse. He breaks away from me, looking at his hands on the wheel.

“Your loyalty is still mine…” He says it like a prayer, a quiet whisper I’m not meant to hear. “Eve, I… I wish we could go back to those kids and tell them what we can only see now. I never meant for you to feel that way. You have always belonged with us, no matter the promises made. Nothing, and no one, can change that.”

His hand drops to cup mine and the heady feeling of its weight in my palm ground me in only a way Oliver can. We can get through this, the dragging up of the past, together, it tells me. I close my eyes and let myself rest in that feeling for a few seconds before reality sweeps in. We’ll get through it, but I’m a fool if I believe we’ll be healed. Nothing can fix what’s been broken. All we can hope for is to be able to finally let go. Just like I needed to do with my dad.

I remove my hand from Oliver’s, stretching out my fingers against my legs. “Thank you, Oliver. But I’m done living in this memory. Let’s move on. Tell me about the picture.”

Oliver takes longer to remove his hand and look up at me, but he does, frustration back to curling his lips. He passes me the photo before starting the car and peeling out of the lot, gravel flying out of our tires as we reach the paved street. I want to ask where we’re headed, but all my attention has been sucked into the smiling faces staring up at me.

“Notice any old friends?” Oliver asks. But it isn’t the well-known faces from childhood, or the suspicious one to Paxton’s left, that have me in thrall.

A scruffy blonde beard and pale blue eyes demand my attention. His arm is wrapped around Paxton’s shoulder, gripping it in a friendly pull. He’s got on his NYU swimming tank from senior year, showing off the broad line of his shoulders and toned arms. The only tell I have that he’s nervous in the photo is the way his free hand fists into the hem of his shirt. Roger has stretched out every workout top he owns, from that same gesture, an irritation knot , he calls it.

Why is Ro in this picture? How does he know Paxton? He lied to you . The thoughts reverberate in my skull to the thumping of my heart. I swallow the beats, forcing myself to look at the other people in the photo. Besides Roger and Paxton, there is Isaac unsmiling, his arm wrapped around the waist of none other than Ally McVie. Beside Ally is her long-time accomplice in all things horrid, June. The five of them look like college friends out for a drink after work. Each dressed down in beachwear, soft olive tans from days in the sun adorning all but Isaac.

I’ve got to go to Carolina. A close family friend needs some help, and you know how I feel about going when called. That’s what he’d told me months ago. I thought nothing of it then. We both had friends all up and down the east coast. Friendships didn’t just die when someone moved for a job or for their family. But now staring at the photo in my hands I had to wonder, was Paxton the close family friend he’d mentioned?

“Looks like we have three more possible suspects. Although, I’m not sure why Catz is even there. He and Isaac hate each other.” Oliver keeps looking from the road to me in quick succession, waiting for me to respond.

“Catz?” I ask, unsure of who he’s referring to.

Oliver stabs his finger right into Roger’s face.

“Roger Thompson. He shared an apartment with Pax freshman year of uni.”

“Why… why do you call him Catz? Were they friends?” I ask, desperate now.

“He picked up the nickname Tom Cat, which just eventually became Catz,” he shrugs. “As far as I know, they stayed friends, but he transferred junior year to NYU and then moved around a bit. He and Isaac got into it a few times at a couple of different parties. Catz said he couldn’t stand being on a team with him anymore, and he needed the swimming scholarship to afford school, so he left.”

My mind spins. Why wouldn’t Roger tell me he knew the Poes? I couldn't believe anything, including this being a coincidence.

“You ok, Darkness? You’re looking pale,” Oliver says.

The nickname slips out with the tinge of concern, a habit that the years cannot even break. I can’t tell him—the thought of exposing my relationship as the lie that it is too embarrassing. I can only imagine the smug smirk he’d give, the ‘I told you so’ burning his lips. No, I couldn’t tell Oliver anything. I nod my head, hair swishing against the back of the seat.

“I’m fine. Just surprised. Why do you think they were all together, here, in Folly Beach, of all places? What does this mean, Oliver?”

“Flip it over,” he mumbles.

I do. On the back in faded blue ink, Paxton’s looping letters can be found.

Is all that we see or seem, but a dream within a dream? October 17— calmer .

The Edgar quote swirls like smoke in my mind as I try to connect it or the date to any memory I have, but nothing comes. I scrunch my nose in frustration.

“I… I don’t know what this means. I know the poem, but it had no significance that I’m aware of. I don’t even recall Paxton ever reciting it before now. And I’m not sure what the date has to do with it.”

Oliver maneuvers us into park and I look up to see we’re already back in front of the hotel. He hesitates, fingers grasping and tightening on the wheel, threatening to strangle it before releasing it again. I wait in silence, letting him find whatever words he needs to say. Finally, he sighs before turning away and throwing open his door.

“That’s because this one isn’t for you…” He steps a foot out before turning back to me. “We’ll be on the first flight home in the morning.”