The Surviving Trace

  My brothers and Will stare at me expectantly, acting as though I have the final say. Apparently, I don’t. This is something that has been planned behind my back. I don’t have the energy to fight it.

  Collectively, they look desperate. Almost lost. Can I blame them though? I’ve disrupted their lives with my claims. If I could make everything okay again, I would. In a heartbeat.

  “Let me go pack,” I say emotionlessly.

  Turning on my heels, I walk toward my bedroom. I grab the first suitcase from the closet and blindly pull items from my dresser. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, but I don’t pack lightly. My gut is telling me that I’ll be away longer than a holiday visit.

  Out in the living room, Will and my brothers are talking. I grab a few pairs of pants from the bottom drawer before I creep toward the door and try my best to listen to what they’re saying.

  “Some time away from work might be the best for her.” That’s Bradley.

  “You think it’s a mental breakdown?” Ian asks.

  “Guys, I don’t know. I’m just worried about her.” There’s a small pause. “I’m gonna go check on her real quick,” Will says.

  I hurry toward my suitcase on the bed. Will knocks once before he opens the door. I drop my jeans into the suitcase and continue to grab random items from the closet and bathroom. As I walk back and forth, Will stands there, leaning against the doorframe.

  I have nothing to say. My blood is boiling. A small part of me understands why Will called my brothers and that he’s coming from a place of love and concern. But a bigger part feels betrayed. It’s as if he took all the trust that had been built between us throughout the years and crushed it with one hand. I have a feeling that when I walk out of the front door, I’ll also be walking away from Will.

  “Please don’t be mad,” he finally says.

  “I’m not mad,” I reply as I brush past him toward the bathroom.

  “I know you think I did this to hurt you, but I didn’t. I’m concerned about you.”

  Dropping my makeup bag into the suitcase, I finally turn and face him. “I know you’re concerned. But there’s no need to be.” He opens up his mouth, but I raise my hand, effectively silencing him. “Last night I told you my story, expecting you to believe me. I have no expectations now. I know it’s the truth and that’s all that matters.”

  Will breaks eye contact and doesn’t say a word. I pause for a second, trying to remember if I’m missing anything. I can’t think of anything off the top of my head, but I’m sure I’ll think of it once I get home.

  Home.

  I try to let that word sink in for a bit. For a long time, my home has been wherever Will is. I know that sounds cheesy and cliché. Like something you’d read on a Hallmark card or embroidered on a pillow, but it’s the truth. I look around the room, knowing that it’ll never be “our” room again.

  Nothing will ever be ours.

  “Just so you know, I didn’t tell your brothers everything, all right? They just think you formed some obsession with a picture.”

  “Oh, thanks. That’s lovely,” I say dryly and zip up my suitcase. At the doorway, I stop and face Will. He looks as lost as I do right now.

  His mouth opens and closes a few times before he says, “This was the last resort. You know that, right? I was afraid that if I didn’t do anything, you’d go mad.”

  I smile sadly, my fingers brushing against his cheek. “I went mad a long time ago.”

  Will doesn’t reply. I think we both know that whatever we had has been lost. The next time I come back to this apartment, it will probably be to either an empty place or to pack my things and go. A small piece of my heart aches at the thought.

  “What happens to us now?” he asks.

  “Nothing, because everything has changed.” I swallow and force myself to keep talking. “I think we both know it’s over. We just don’t want to admit it.”

  Will goes silent, but he doesn’t object. When I walk out the front door, I’m also walking away from our chance at a future. A big part of me mourns the loss. Even though Will no longer has possession of my heart, he’s still a fixture in my life.

  “So that’s it?” he replies. “We’re done?”

  “Will you ever believe me?”

  He leans in close, agony etched in his features. “What you’re trying to convince me of is impossible. I want to believe you. I just can’t.”

  I nod and remove my engagement ring. My hand shakes as I place it on the dresser. “Then I guess we have our answer.”

  He looks as though he wants to say so much, but nothing he can say can fix us. We could certainly try. I could attempt to push Étienne out of my mind, but he will always be there. He will never go away.

  “Bye, Will,” I say softly.

  “Bye, Serene.”

  Slinging one of my bags over my shoulder, I walk into the hallway where my brothers are waiting. They’re wise enough not to give me a hard time as we walk down the stairs. Our footsteps echo loudly.

  When we reach the first floor, Ms. Whitmore, a woman in her early eighties, peeks her head out of her front door. “Going somewhere?”

  “Just a small trip to visit my family for a bit,” I say with false enthusiasm.

  Ms. Whitmore doesn’t blink, just smiles back. “Have fun, Serene!”

  Outside, Ian pops open the trunk. He tosses one of my bags in then turns to me, slapping his hands together. I give him my duffle bag, walk around the car, and get into the backseat. I drum my fingers on my jean-clad thighs. I’m anxious, and I have no idea why.

  My brothers slam their doors, and before they can say a word, I lean forward. “Let’s get this trip started.”

  “It’s not a death sentence,” Bradley says as he starts the car.

  “It’s almost three hours in the car with you two. It’s pretty close to a death sentence.”

  “Why?” Ian asks. “I can’t speak for Bradley, but I’m a fantastic travel buddy.”

  “You both will talk for a total of ten minutes and then say nothing else the entire time.”

  “Just buckle up, all right?” Bradley says as he puts the car into drive and merges onto the road.

  Twisting around, I watch my apartment building and my business until they become small black specks that blend into the background.

  MY PULSE IS pounding, keeping in tempo with my small gasps. My hair sticks to the back of my neck as I run down a dark, dank hallway with no end in sight. But the worst part is I can feel someone behind me. Their breath trails against my skin, making me shiver in fear.

  “There’s no need to run!” a voice says, but I can’t place it. I know I should recognize it, but it’s heavy and disjointed.

  As I continue running, I look over my shoulder. A figure shrouded in darkness appears. I don’t know who he is, but I know he’s a man and he wants to hurt me. Deep in my gut, I can feel it.

  So I pick up my speed. I run as though my life depends on it. I run so hard my lungs burn and my muscles ache. My knees give out, but before I crash to the ground, the figure behind me eats me alive.

  I gasp and jerk in my seat, and find Ian staring at me.

  “We’ll be home in an hour,” he says.

  I sit up, my neck aching from falling asleep at an odd angle. Rain falls hitting the car at a slant. Cars drive by, their headlights illuminating the drops on the windows and turning them into diamonds. For a second, I can see Étienne’s face in a single raindrop. Heart pounding, I lean my forehead against the window and watch as Étienne’s features become shuttered before he drops his face into his palms. I blink, and the image is gone. I feel more alone than before.

  In cursive, I write Étienne’s name then wipe it from the window with one clean swipe of my palm. “How long have I been asleep?”

  Bradley glances at the clock on the dashboard. “Only two hours.”

  I rub my eyes and stretch as much as I can. I’m almost tempted to ask if we can stop somewhere so I can stretch and get somethi
ng to eat, but that would put us at nearly four hours in the car, so I bite my tongue and try to get as comfortable as possible.

  For the next forty minutes, the car is filled with silence. Just as I expected. My brothers have never been much for words. Most of the time, keeping any conversations going is up to me. I used to love trying to think of different topics and bringing up old, forgotten memories from our childhood, but right now, I don’t have it in me to be that happy version of myself. I stare listlessly out the window, watching the endless stretch of land flash past me.

  “You guys didn’t have to do this,” I say.

  “Of course we did,” Bradley replies. “Will told us about the picture. It sounds like you’re going crazy.”

  “I’m not crazy.”

  Bradley continues talking as though I never spoke. “If you keep it up Ian and I are going to take you to Fairfax.”

  He’s teasing, but I sit up straight. Fairfax is a psychiatric facility in McLean. Everybody knows about it, but it’s never mentioned. Anyone who does have a family member there merely says that they’re “away.” As though it’s a retreat or an adult camp.

  As a kid when we drove by, I would peer out the window and try to see if I could spot anyone. Once, I struck gold and saw a few patients sitting beneath an oak tree. Nurses hovered all around them like mothers watching their kids in a park. Everything looked so normal. Until I saw a few patients in hospitals gowns. It cast a gloom over the whole image.

  Years have gone by since I’ve seen that place, but I’m still terrified of it.

  “Lachlan’s wife was there,” Ian says.

  A chill sweeps through me, and it isn’t from the mention of my brothers’ good friend, Lachlan Halstead. It’s the thought of his wife, Naomi. All of us were neighbors. Lachlan’s family lived to the left. The Carradines, Naomi’s family, were in the middle, and our land was on the right. I was close in age to Naomi but knew nothing about her. Growing up, she hid inside her house. She was an only child and homeschooled. The only times I saw her were when she rode her horse or during the few dinner parties her parents invited us over for. Everyone would remark that she was a quiet but kind girl. But there was something off. To me, it was the look in her eye. She didn’t stare at you but into you. It always unnerved me.

  “I’m not crazy,” I repeat, louder.

  “You do realize that’s what every crazy person says, right?” Ian retorts.

  “I mean it!”

  They’re teasing. They’re teasing. They’re teasing! My heart is pounding because I’ve never given much thought to how my family would react to everything that’s happened. I automatically assumed they would trust that what I was telling them was the truth.

  It’s clear to me now that the people I love most will not believe me. And if I attempt to tell them the truth, there could be potential repercussions. Would they actually commit me to a place like Fairfax? Probably not. But you never know.

  “Call Mom and tell her to hide all the knives,” Bradley jokingly tells Ian. He lifts a hand from the steering wheel and mimics a stabbing motion.

  Leaning forward, I whack his shoulder. “Come on. Cut it out.”

  Both of them laugh. I don’t.

  “We’re kidding,” Ian says. “You know we don’t think that about you.”

  “If you don’t think that then why did you come pick me up?”

  Ian twists around his seat. “You tell us. What’s the real reason why we made this impromptu road trip?”

  He knows somethings up between Will and me. Of course he does. Will’s explanation was shaky at best. My brothers would see through it immediately. I trust them both to keep anything I say in the strictest of confidence, but if I start talking about Will and me, I’m afraid it will quickly lead down the path toward Étienne and me. And I don’t want to add yet another name to the list of people who don’t believe me.

  If there’s anything to learn from confessing the truth to Liz and Will, it’s that I have to watch everything I say from here on out.

  “Real reason?” I scrunch up my nose. “I don’t know where you’re going with this.”

  “Yes, you do,” Ian says, watching me carefully. “I’ve been waiting for you to tell me the truth for the past hour, but you never did. So now I’m asking.”

  If I’m stubborn, then Ian’s downright bullheaded. He won’t back down until I answer him. Truthfully.

  “There’s nothing to tell.” I look at my hands. “Will and I just called off our engagement.”

  Ian stares at me with disbelief. Even Bradley gives me a look in the rearview mirror.

  “Are you kidding?” Ian asks.

  I raise my left hand and wiggle my fingers, showcasing my now-bare ring finger.

  He whistles. “Told Mom?”

  “No. Not yet. Besides, telling Mom is the least of my worries.”

  Bradley snorts, which draws my attention to him.

  “Since you guys have asked me some tough questions, it’s only fair that I do the same,” I say.

  “Technically, it was Ian who asked about Will.”

  I wave away Bradley’s words. “Doesn’t matter.” Resting my elbows on my knees, I glance at Bradley. “Why are you so cranky?”

  “I’m not cranky.”

  “Well, you’re certainly not your normal self. What gives?”

  Ian makes a cut-it-out gesture.

  I frown at him and mouth, “What?”

  He whispers, “We’ll talk about that later. Okay?”

  Judging by the way Bradley’s jaw clenches, I know he heard Ian. I may have slept half the trip, but the moments I’ve been awake, I’ve felt the tension coming off of Bradley in waves. He jokes with Ian, but his heart isn’t in it. When he thinks no one’s looking, his lips pull into a tight line and his eyes harden. What has happened to my brother to make him like this?

  “Anyway,” I say, desperate to change the subject, “how have Mom and Dad been?”

  “Good, good,” Ian says. “They’ll be happy to see you.”

  “Do they know I’m coming?”

  “Of course. We told them before we left that we were picking you up. I’m sure Mom is staring out the front window with all the porch lights on.”

  Glancing at the dashboard clock, I see it’s a quarter til eleven. Sighing, I sit back in my seat. It’s not that I want to avoid my parents. I’m just exhausted and need to think about what I’m going to say to them when they ask what brought me home and why Will didn’t come along.

  We drive into the outskirts of town, and a part of me wants to sigh with relief. With everything that’s happened, recognizing everything around me feels nice. Ian could blindfold me and tell me to drive the rest of the way home and I could.

  Compared to Arlington, McLean has a small-town vibe. A small town with luxury homes and residents who have more money than God, take pride in their elitist behavior, and always have an air of gravitas surrounding them. My parents rub shoulders with most of those residents.

  Growing up, my brothers and I attended Potomac School, a disciplined school of hard academics. I consider making it out alive as one of my greatest achievements.

  “Do you miss McLean?” Ian asks.

  “Do I miss McLean?” I muse. “I miss knowing every single street and the memories I have here. But no, I don’t miss McLean. I formed a life in Greensburg.” And an even better one in Charleston.

  The streetlamps illuminate the now-closed stores and the few open fast food chains. We pass numerous subdivisions, the traffic slowly becoming sparse until the road becomes two lanes.

  Bradley turns onto our road and puts on his brights; no one will pass us. That’s a perk of living out in the country. You’re close enough to town in case you need anything, but whenever you’re overwhelmed by the heavy congestion of traffic and people, you can escape. I forgot how much I missed that until I’m watching the open space around me. Even though it’s pitch black, I know the landscape. The ditches flanking the road are rarely, if ever, mow
ed. The cluster of woods a mile behind our house travels past the Carradines’ land and reaches the Halsteads’ property.

  Bradley turns into our driveway and stops to put in the passcode. The wrought-iron gates slowly open, and we drive under the archway with the word RAVENWOOD proudly displayed for any passersby.

  Ian may have been joking when he said that the porch lights would be on, but he was completely right. The entire house is lit up, as though it’s six at night instead of eleven.

  “Home sweet home,” Bradley says dryly as we get out of the car.

  Collectively, we groan with relief to be out the car. The cold air is a welcome comfort. I breathe deep and close my eyes. For the first time in weeks, I feel a little bit of myself sliding into place.

  “Are you coming in?”

  Opening my eyes, I find Ian and Bradley looking at expectantly, my bags slung over their shoulders.

  “Yeah. I’m glad to be home.”

  “Well, while you reminisce, I’m gonna drop your bags in your room and take a piss,” Bradley mutters before he strides toward the door, Ian beside him.

  I follow, taking stock of the home that has been in our family for… well, forever. It’s all I’ve ever known. My family’s sprawling, exorbitant two-story home stands proud against the bitter winter weather. Four massive pillars poised in front of the house support the veranda that travels the length of the second story. In between the black shutters are large, gleaming windows.

  I’ve always been awed by the beauty of this house, and proud that my family has maintained and run Ravenwood for as long as we have. Along with the house, the farm too was established over a hundred years ago. Our family’s farm quickly became the most prestigious training, breeding, and racing farms in Virginia. Our name is known in racing circles and gives us the advantage of having access to only the best horses.

  “Serene? What are you still doing out here?” In the doorway stands my mom, light from the foyer pours out around her.

  With my arms crossed, I hurry up the walkway then hug my mom. For a second, I allow myself to relax, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. She still smells of soap and lilac, a comforting combination from my childhood. It reminds me that even though my life has been flipped upside down, some things remain the same. It doesn’t matter how old you get; there are times when all you need is a good hug from your parents to make you feel as if whatever you’re going through can be repaired.