Page 46 of To the Grave

There were more clothes under the sweater — a couple evening gowns, a fur cape, a coat. I set those aside. I wouldn’t take them without talking to Ruth. She probably had no idea this stuff was up here.

I tackled the photo albums next. Most of them were old, Mercer family photos from when my mom was little, and three whole albums filled with pictures of her parents and grandparents, some of them in black-and-white, yellowing with age.

Under the photo albums was a Mercer family bible. That took me by surprise — as far as I knew, my mom hadn’t attended church — but when I opened the cover I saw that it was also a family record of sorts, birth and death dates marching next to a series of names, some of which I recognized and others of which I didn’t.

My mom’s name was recorded in elegant black handwriting. Then Blake, me, and Ruth.

It made me sad to see Ruth’s name as the final one at the bottom. Had my mom hoped there would be more names to record in the bible? Grandchildren whose names she would record in the same careful, slanted handwriting in which she’d recorded ours?

Would there even be any Mercer/Hammond grandchildren? Blake was dead and it was impossible to imagine Ruth as a mom someday, although that could always change.

And what about me? Would I have children someday? A boy with Otis’ mind or a little girl with Jace’s green eyes? A child with Wolf’s glossy dark hair?

I shook my head. I was being stupid. I didn’t even know if the Beasts would stick around once we figured out who was kidnapping girls. Plus, what was I going to do, keep sleeping with them all forever like we were part of some weird polygamous cult?

I thought about Willa and the Kings, ready to have their first baby. They weren’t weird. I mean, Neo was a little scary, but otherwise they seemed perfectly normal and happy together.

I pushed the thought aside. Now wasnotthe time to think about my future with the Beasts.

The pictures in the photo albums seemed to stop when my mom was in middle school. I set them aside to take them home. They didn’t belong in a trunk in the attic of my dad’s gaudy mansion. They belonged to the Mercer family, in the Mercer family home at the top of the falls.

I moved to the baby books next, flipping through Blake’s and smiling at his toothy baby grin, the mischievous light in his eyes that had turned into something more like malevolence as he’d grown. Then I relived Ruth’s babyhood, a blur of memory since I’d only been two when she’d been born.

Still, I recognized her light brown baby curls, remembered how excited I’d been when her chubby hands had closed around my finger. For a while she’d been like a living doll, and I’d adored being her big sister.

My baby book was next. I had a vague memory of some of the images, like maybe my mom had let me look through it when I’d been a kid. Other things were new, like the little notes my mom had written under FIRST STEP (11 months old, outside on the grass) and FIRST WORD (Blake/“Bake”).

But it wasn’t until I got to the last page that I was met with a surprise, a folded sheet of paper, burned around the edges and stuffed into the back of my baby book.

I lifted it to my nose. The smell of fire and smoke lingered on the paper.

I opened it and started reading.

Nory,

I told you I wouldn’t say goodbye until I knew you were done with me, and I think this time, it might be real.

I’ve spent half my life waiting for you, half my life loving you, but I can’t wait anymore. Not after everything that’s happened. You’ve made your choice and I’m going to be a man and respect it.

I can’t give you what you want, even if I think I can give you what you need, so I’m setting you free once and for all. It’s killing me but I would never do anything to hurt you or the life you’ve built for yourself and your family.

I hope it’s everything you want it to be. I hope someday, you’ll tell the truth.

Mac

I felt sick, my face flushed and head buzzing like I might pass out.

I looked at the date at the top of the paper — February, the year I was born — then

reread the letter three times, my gaze snagging on certain words and phrases.

I think this time, it might be real.Was this the last time she’d left him? The last time she’d gone back to my dad?

Not after everything that’s happened.What was Mac talking about? Did my mom know she was pregnant with me? Was heupset that she’d gotten pregnant by my dad? Another baby that would be Charles Hammond’s even though my mom obviously loved Mac?

Or had Mac gotten my mom pregnant? Did she tell him she wanted to raise me as a Hammond?

And then:I hope someday, you’ll tell the truth.

---