Page 17 of The One Before

Twenty-six weeks and healthy, she replies.

Much love. Promise to call soon.

What I want to say is I’m lonely. That I’m insecure about my role in this family and bothered by what my new neighbors still say about my fiancé. That everywhere I turn in this town, I’m faced with another reminder of the mysterious Celia Gray. But I won’t tell her any of this. Unlike me, everything is going right in Beth’s world. Her career and husband and baby. I don’t want to be a buzzkill.

By the time I’ve finished texting, Regina moseys over, ignoring the lines of people standing by the register. She’s holding two trays of food in her hand. “Thought I’d join you,” she says, pulling out a chair.

“Aren’t you working?” I ask, nodding toward the front.

“I still have to eat. We have another hour before the place really gets busy,” she says, squirting a mound of ketchup on her plate. I notice the bottle says organic, homemade. “Besides, I want to know what’s bothering you.”

“Nothing,” I say, picking up and dropping a potato wedge.

“Bullshit. Something’s got you all sour. Mom getting on your nerves yet?”

“She’s been great,” I say, making a mental note to call Josephine later tonight. I regret how I took off earlier. I debate whether to open up about what happened at Turner’s. Something about Regina reminds me of home, like we’re both not cut out for Whisper Falls. We could be friends, if only she’d let her guard down. I think she’s so used to being different she doesn’t know how to react to someone genuinely trying to earn her approval. “Remember that girl from last night? Bridgette?”

Still chewing, Regina drops her shoulders and rolls her eyes. “What I’d give to forget.”

“I saw her again today. She works at Turner’s furniture store.”

Regina nods. “I forgot about that. I don’t think she’s been there long. She usually can’t hold a job for more than a few months.” She wipes her mouth. “Did you talk to her?”

“Briefly. I wanted to confront her about that comment she made. She told me the people here think Coop killed Celia.”

Regina leans forward. “You didn’t know?”

“Did Iknowthat people think my fiancé is a murderer? Your brother? No, I didn’t know that.”

Regina shakes her head. “Don’t let Bridgette get to you. She’s a nobody.”

“It’s the factother peoplethink Coop was involved. How am I supposed to build a life here knowing people think that? My gosh, I just met the police chief.”

“Jimmy is a family friend. He knows Cooper had nothing to do with Celia’s death. Lots of people do. It’s just people like Bridgette who won’t let the past go.”

“Why do they think Coop was involved?” In some ways, it feels like a betrayal to have this conversation with his sister, but she’s being more forthcoming, and these are things I need to know.

“Rumor was Cooper got angry and hit her with something before she went into the water. People look for someone to blame after a tragedy, and they’ve waited generations for the great Douglas family to fall.”

“Could someone have really done that? Hit her over the head?”

My mind returns to last night’s conversation at the lake. I didn’t expect Regina to have so much anger toward Celia, a girl who died thirteen years ago. Her words were filled with hate, a stark contrast to what Coop has said. Of course, he doesn’t talk much about Celia. When he does, he portrays a girl taken before her time. Regina portrayed something else.

“He had nothing to do with it, if that’s what you’re asking.” It’s the first time her voice lacks that sing-song element. She’s tense and defensive.

“I know. Celia drowned.” She needs to know I’m on her side. When it comes to Coop, I’ll always be on her side. “But doesn’t it bother you? Knowing people still say these things about him?”

“It does, but we’ve been defending him for a long time. Some people are determined to believe what they want to believe. Around here, people will take rumor over fact any day.” She leans back. “We know the truth. That’s all that matters. I think Celia climbed to the top of Miner’s Peak to jump off the rope swing and hit her head on the way down.”

“Regina?” Maple shouts from the register. “Someone has a question about the gluten-free menu.”

“Be right there.” Regina sighs. “Just talk to Cooper. It’s a hard topic for him. For all of us, really.”

“Thanks,” I say, noting my meal has barely been touched. Nothing to do with Regina’s cooking, rather my own nerves. I stand and push past the people crowding around the entrance. Coop still hasn’t texted, and I don’t feel like returning to theGazetteheadquarters. Instead, I stroll until I reach a small courtyard in the center of downtown. The plaque on the sidewalk reads:Whisper Falls Memorial Gardens: Always Remember, Never Forget. There’s a small gazebo covered in flowers and a series of benches circled around it. I choose one and sit, waiting for Coop to finish at the office.

Whenever Coop mentioned Celia’s death, he never said people thought he was to blame. Maybe he didn’t want to breathe fresh life into an old rumor. Maybe part of him was afraid I’d run for the hills. I exhale in frustration, shooing away my mental images of Celia and Bridgette. The scent of pollen and dirt drift upward, tickling my nose. There’s a potted collection of wildflowers resting next to my bench. Looking across the way, I see each bench has its own arrangement beside a memorial plaque. I stand, looking to see what my bench represents, to whom it pays tribute.

Underneath my seat is a picture of a blonde girl with striking blue eyes, hypnotic really. The inscription reads:In loving memory of Celia Gray. May your light shine on us all. My eyes dart back to the girl’s face—Celia’s face—which, in some ways, appears harsher now. Like she’s taunting me. As I scamper away, the sign at the entrance reminds me tonever forget.

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