Page 64 of Code Name: Reaper
The window boxes spilled over with mums, trailing ivy, and twigs. There were even a couple of small pumpkins in the planter. The same way there would’ve been if my grandfather were still alive.
“Ready?” Reaper asked.
“I need a minute.”
“Take your time.”
It was getting dark, so harder to see, but across the lawn, I found the swing I spent hours on, pumping my legs to get as high as I could, then jumping off. I looked over at the bay window, imagining my grandma, hand over her heart, shaking her head at my antics.
This time of year was especially fun when Granddad raked leaves into a big pile for me to land in.
Life seemed too simple then, except now I wondered if it had ever really been. Had my parents died in a car accident or was the reason I’d seen so few photos of them because my grandparents lied about their identity?No.I couldn’t believe they’d do something so cruel.
Thinking Mercury and Jekyll could be my real mom and dad seemed ludicrous enough now, that I wondered what I could have been thinking when the possibility occurred to me. No, I was being a foolish girl who longed for a family that no longer existed. When my granddad died, that was it. No one was left to carry on the Beaudoin name and no family reunions to attend, not that I’d ever been to one. I was all that was left.
“Do you have aunts and uncles?” I asked.
“My mom has two sisters and a brother. My dad has two brothers and a sister.”
“So, cousins?”
“Loads of them. Bishop and I are the only two out of fifteen or sixteen—I lost count—who aren’t married and don’t have kids of our own.”
“Do you want kids?”
“Honestly?”
I’d been staring at the house, but turned to look at him. “That would be preferable to lying.”
“I never thought much about it.”
“Me neither.” When I unfastened my seat belt, Reaper got out of the SUV and came around to my side.
“You’re sure no one lives here?”
“If there are squatters, they’re taking damn good care of the place. But, no, the guy who lives across the street takes care of it for me. Not for free, mind you.”
“You haven’t considered selling?”
“Selling would mean spending time here and taking everything out of it. It hasn’t been hard to put off,” she admitted.
“It’s none of my business…”
“Like that’s stopped you in the past?”
“Between the maintenance and property taxes, it seems like quite an expense to let it sit empty.”
“It isn’t empty.” I walked up the steps to the front door. “It’s wall-to-wall memories.”
I reached down, got the key from under the mat, and was about to unlock the door when I heard someone call out from across the street.
“Hey, can I help you, folks?”
“It’s me, Mr. Hill. Charity.”
“My God, it is you,” he said when he was close enough to pull me into an embrace. “You didn’t say you would be visiting.”
“It was kind of last minute, but the outside looks beautiful. You had it painted.”
