Page 74 of Of Poison & Pumpkins
“What happened to her?” I ask tentatively.
Brooke finally looks my way with red-rimmed eyes. “You want to know?” When I nod, she continues, “It was two years ago. We were hunting in West Virginia. Perfect day, blue skies, easy trail. One second Bailey was talking to me about what video game we’ll play when we get home and the next second an explosion knocked me off my feet. A bomb, Rynn. Some idiot left a stupid bomb in the middle of the woods. She lost both her legs and hasn’t been the same since.” She pauses.
I’ve known nothing about my sister’s life. I didn’t know she was in a relationship, or loved to hunt, or had ever visited West Virginia. She’s right. For too long, I’ve hidden from the past, hoping to avoid my family, that I never considered healing as an option. But maybe it’s not too late.
“Bailey has been in a wheelchair for two years,” she continues. “If I had magic, I could’ve saved her legs that day, or summoned medics to us faster, or turned back time, or been able to smell the bomb and detect it before she stepped on it.”
“That’s not how it works, Brooke, we have to choose?—”
“I KNOW HOW IT WORKS!” She pushes my hand away and crosses her arms again. “Please go,” Brooke whispers, squeezing her eyes shut, but I don’t move. “I never hated you growing up, Rynn. But I do now; I hate you. Because you have a chance at happiness. Mine has been taken away. I don’t want to talk about this anymore. We won’t be having any sister bonding time, or hug it out one day. This is over. You win. My plan failed, and I never want to see you again.”
She carries a pale, haunted expression; her words void of remorse or regret. I may puke if I stay next to her any longer. Shifting through my memories as fast as possible, I try to find evidence that I once showed love towards her. I want to challenge her accusations, defend myself, offer a truce, but maybe she’s right. Maybe it’s too late.
Slowly, I give her distance while averting my attention to the door.
“Okay, Brooke. Take care,” I say, and half of me wants to end it at that. Instead, I turn towards her one last time. “I do love you. I always have and I always will.”
I rap on the door, and the officer lets me out to usher me into an independent room. Inside, I sink to the chair and fumble with the braids in my hair. The slight headache that formed earlier increases to a painful pounding. I replay Brooke’s words. She never hated me growing up. I search for anything from my memories that would help me believe that statement.
Either way, she does hate me now, and I can understand why. I still have a chance at happiness. Apparently not with her, though. I can’t force my sister to reconcile. Maybe over time her opinion will change, but I won’t delay my life by building a wall to hide myself. If I’ve learned one thing, it’s that holding onto bitterness and pain from the past, or trying to get revenge, is not the way.
Brooke was right about one thing. I have a chance of happiness with Elias. That is, if I’m ever set free.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Elias
Tomorrow is Oakmar’s Halloween festival, and I still haven’t bailed Rynn out of jail. Days have passed without the permission to visit her. I’ve assembled the troops to collect ninety-seven signatures from residents and only need three more to hand the petition over to the authorities. The bail money is another story. I’ll have to wish for another miracle to pay that.
Leaves scatter and roll across the cobblestone of Blake Street as the sun begins its decline for the evening. Ahead, Zanther helps others hang decorations for the festival, complete with pumpkin-everything from his shop. That’s right. I signed ownership over to my brother hours after Rynn was arrested. Because she has put everything into perspective.
I’m choosing to stay positive. I search the street for any new faces that haven’t already signed. Obviously Tinsley, Zanther, and I were the first names on the list, protesting as community members that we don’t agree to the charges against Rynn.
I scan to the left. The bookshop staff have already signed. I scan to the right. Same story with the coffee shop employees. Maybe if I plagiarize the last couple they won’t notice, surely there must be a Mr. and Mrs. Smith who live in Oakmar.
“I’ll sign it,” the low voice I never expected to hear again speaks from behind.
Noah. Father. Dad. Sperm donor. One and the same.
Every ounce of my body tells me not to turn around. Not to engage. But I need his signature.
“Sure, okay, thanks.” I meet his eyes.
“Got a pen, son?” He emphasizes the last word.
I had asked him not to call me son. And I meant it. He either forgot or doesn’t give a rat’s butt about my preference. This man may never see my perspective.
“We good now?”
“Good? In what way?” My body tenses, and a humorless chuckle escapes me. “Are we good that you manipulated my body and Rynn’s? Lied to me? Helped Brooke poison others? No, we’re not good, Noah. But I will try hard to forgive you. Want to know why?” I pause, he doesn’t say a word. “Because I found someone who deserves all of me. And for too long you’ve held me back, like a rope around my ankle, yanking me in one direction when?—”
“Hey, now. That’s not fair. Don’t blame me for your own fears. I didn’t do anything.”
I point the pen at his face. “Precisely. You didn’t do anything. You were never around. Didn’t watch me grow up. Didn’t have any interest in what kind of person I was or what I liked or who made me happy.”
“Oh, come on, it wasn’t all that bad.”
Maybe forgiveness doesn’t involve changing him, but letting go of his influence over my choices. To forgive him for leaving our family all those years ago would be to accept my life, not wishing for a different journey. That’s something I can do, because ultimately, his abandonment led me to Rynn.
