Page 2 of The One Before

“Yeah?” Although beautiful, the house is over a century old. It screams of hauntings.

“You and your active imagination.” He kisses the top of my head and walks back inside.

Coop’s aunt isn’t the only ghost on my mind. He’s told me several stories about his hometown in the two years we’ve been together. The most memorable was about his high school girlfriend, Celia Gray. She drowned in the waters of Whisper Lake the summer before he started college. The event was a defining moment in his life; it haunts him, and now it haunts me. We both knew moving here would disrupt his past, but I’m hoping, at the same time, it will erase mine.

Two

Helena

I miss my daughter.

For a few years, I felt her presence with me wherever I went. Now I only feel her absence. Grief has carved me up inside, leaving me hollow in some places, tattered in others.

You can’t overcome the loss of a child. It’s the most unnatural of occurrences, the heaviest of losses. If you lose a parent, you’re an orphan. If you lose a spouse, you’re a widow. What are you when you lose a child? You’re me. Bitter and cold and angry.

Plenty of other people are in my position. I see them each week at the meetings. At some point, the others pull their lives back together. Find a new purpose. Those parents always say the hardest part is not knowing why. Never understanding what happened. Not seeing what their child could have one day become. I’ll tell you what’s worse than that. Itisknowing. Because Iknowwhat happened to my daughter. I tried—time and time again I tried—to get someone, anyone, to listen. No one would. They wanted proof. They wanted evidence. All things I couldn’t provide.

I could only give them a name. Cooper Douglas. I know he killed my daughter, and one day I’m going to make him pay.

Three

Madison

We’re off to join Coop’s family for Sunday brunch. I know little about my in-laws. Coop’s father died a few years back, and I’ve never met his siblings. His mother, Josephine, visited Atlanta once; she insisted on buying dinner to celebrate our engagement. Seeing her again feels different now that I’m one of them. On their turf. The water thinning their bloodline.

Coop describes his family as close-knit, yet he made the conscious choice to separate them from our relationship. When we lived together in the city, he never suggested I accompany him on his visits to Whisper Falls. He’s kept me at a distance; moving here bridges that gap. As we make the short drive to Josephine’s house, I sense Coop’s nervousness rising. He’s quiet, with a tight grip on the wheel.

“Are you okay?” I ask, after several minutes of silence.

Coop exhales and forces a smile. “I don’t know what I’m so worried about. I know they’re going to love you.” He squeezes my knee. “I suppose I’m adjusting to the idea of living here again.”

I’m also adjusting, still reeling from the move and the life we’ve left behind. “What do they know about me?”

“All good things. They know you’re a journalist. Born and raised in the city.” He laughs. “They know you make me happy.”

I smile, fiddling with the ring around my finger. Suddenly, I feel a pang of sadness, like I’m some ragamuffin the Douglas family is rescuing. I wish I had someone other than Coop with whom I could share this new life, although, truthfully, I’ve been on my own longer than I’d like to admit. I don’t have a relationship with my parents or anyone from my childhood. Beth and Matt, my closest friends, are back in the city.

“Here we are,” Coop says, stopping the car outside a black gate. He rolls down the window and punches a code into the security system. The gates open, leading us down a twisty drive lined with more trees.

“Wow.” I knew his family had money, but I wasn’t quite expecting this.

“A dramatic entrance, eh?” There’s a hint of embarrassment in his voice. Not many people can relate to his family’s level of wealth. I wonder what that does to a person, coming from so much? It must make one guarded with everyone. Friends. Schoolmates. Lovers.

“It’s beautiful,” I say, trying to hide the shock in my voice. In the distance, the sun hovers over a large body of water. It seems to have appeared out of nowhere, hidden behind the greenery of the massive landscape. “Is that a lake?”

“The back end of the house overlooks Whisper Lake. You’ll see more as we get closer.”

Suddenly, I remember Celia, and it’s like this ghost from his past is sitting in the car with us. Whisper Lake is beautiful, but I know the murky currents hold secrets. They hold danger.

We take a sharp turn, and now the Douglas manor is in full view. As we pull closer, it becomes larger. It’s two-stories, but wide, easily spanning six thousand square feet. Dark wooden beams hoist a large balcony on the second floor. Coop parks our car beside a circular fountain at the front. We both sit in silence, staring at the massive house.

“Are you ready?” he asks.

I nod, too intimidated to speak. I can’t shake the feeling I’ve entered into a world meant for someone else.

We don’t knock. Coop uses a key to unlock the front door. Somehow, that simple action makes this place feel real. Like it’s part ours. I can’t believe Coop, the same person who shared my one-bedroom apartment, calls this his childhood home.

“We’re here,” Coop calls out. His voice echoes.Echoesthroughout the large space. There’s a grand staircase ascending from where we stand. Coop walks forward, and I follow him, trying to appear at ease. Like I belong. I’m hoping his family won’t realize within minutes that I don’t.

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