The Edge of Forever (22 page)

“So, you’re Nate’s daughter. How can I help you?” His voice seems guarded.

“I guess I better begin by telling you I don’t remember anything about him or my mother. I’ve lived with Aunt Grace since I was six, but for some reason she doesn’t want to tell me what happened to them.”

Mr. Miller steeples his fingers together, wearing a slight frown. “And I suppose you think I can give you some answers, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have any pictures of your father?”

“Yes. Let me get them.” I fumble through my purse until I find them.

My hand trembles as I hold the pictures out to Mr. Miller. As he studies them, his brows arch. “Yep, that’s Nate and me all right. Talk about a blast from the past.”

I begin to relax. “Can you tell me what he was like? Or when was the last time you talked to him?”

Mr. Miller’s lips press together in a thin line, and he slides the pictures back to me. He stays silent, which unnerves me.

“What is it?” I ask.

“I’m trying to figure out what’s going on. You definitely resemble Nate and Grace. But . . .” He stops and cocks his head to the side. “I told you before, Nate never said anything about having a child.”

My skin crawls with the certainty that whatever he has to say next won’t be good.

“And you know what else I’m having a hard time believing? That you’re really Nate’s daughter.”

“But you said I look like him.”

“True, but you look like Grace, too. Maybe you’re her daughter.”

Heat rushes to my face. “If that’s true, why would she tell me I’m Nate’s daughter?”

Mr. Miller shrugs. “I don’t know. You need to ask her.”

I want to scream. “Haven’t you heard me? Aunt Grace won’t tell me anything about my past. She thinks it’ll damage me.”

“Like I said, I don’t know. Maybe you are Nate’s kid and he didn’t know about you.”

“No, that’s not right,” I say. “Aunt Grace said he’s the one who brought me to her house. He left me there ten years ago and told Aunt Grace he’d come back for me, but he never did.”

Suddenly, Mr. Miller stands and snatches up his coffee. “I don’t know what kind of stunt you’re trying to pull, but I’m not amused.”

I stare at him in confusion. “I don’t understand. I’m not trying to pull anything. I just want to know about my father, that’s all.”

“You just told me a lie, so now I know Nathaniel Walker can’t be your father.”

“What do you mean? He
is
my father.”

“That’s impossible. The Nate Walker I knew died in 1994.”

I stay seated, too stunned to move, and watch as Mr. Miller storms out of the shop. His last words ring in my ears, along with another thought.

How could Nate Walker be my father if he died in 1994?

I was born in 1997.

26

ALORA

APRIL 20, 2013

A
unt Grace is standing on the back porch before I even park the truck, hands on hips and features contorted into a murderous glare.

“Are you ready for this?” Bridger asks, keeping his eyes on her.

“Yes,” I reply.

Normally the sight of an angry Aunt Grace would make my pulse spike, but right now I don’t care. I’ve had the whole trip back from Covington to digest what I discovered from Mr. Miller.

And I’m pretty pissed myself.

My mind has been full of questions, mainly centering on the fact Aunt Grace has been lying about more than I thought. On the drive back to Willow Creek, Bridger argued that Mr. Miller could’ve been the one lying, but I don’t believe that. Bridger didn’t see his shocked expression when I said Dad left me with Aunt Grace. Bridger didn’t hear the anguish in his voice when he said my father died in 1994.

As soon as I park the truck, I say, “Okay, this is probably going to get ugly before I get anything out of her, so I’d rather talk to her alone.”

“Are you sure? I’ll stay with you if you want me to.”

I want to say yes. Confrontation of any kind isn’t my thing and I’d usually avoid it at all costs, but I can’t today, not when it involves something I’ve wanted to know for so long. “I’m sure. As soon as I’m done, I’ll tell you everything.”

He rubs the back of his neck. “If you need me, I’ll be in my room.”

Aunt Grace is now waiting next to the truck. As soon as I open the door, she hollers, “Where have you been and why haven’t you answered my calls?”

“We’re only a half hour late.”

“When I give you a time to have
my
truck back, I expect it to be back at that time. Just like I expect you to answer your phone when I call.”

Bridger is still standing next to the truck. I give him what I hope is a reassuring smile and say, “I’ll be fine.”

He seems like he wants to say something, but presses his lips together and trudges toward the back porch.

Grace watches Bridger as he walks away. “That’s it? I let y’all borrow
my
truck to track down a lead for his father and he can’t even say thank you?” When he’s inside the house, Grace swivels around and glares at me again. “What do you have to say for yourself, missy? I didn’t know if you’d had an accident or if someone kidnapped y’all. Have you forgotten that Naomi Burton is still missing?”

My stomach is all knots and butterflies. A moment ago, I was set to confront her, but now the familiar feeling of wanting to flee takes over.

“Well, don’t just stand there and pretend you’re innocent. Answer me!”

The uncertainty vanishes when she says that. Ever since I’ve lived with Aunt Grace, I’ve tried to do what she told me to do. I’m grateful she’s been here to raise me. I’ve always trusted her. But that trust was destroyed today.

I grab my purse out of the truck and slam the door. “You want to know where I’ve been? I visited an old friend of Dad’s today. Remember John Miller?”

For a moment, Aunt Grace continues to glare at me, but then my question sinks in. Her jaw drops and she lets out a small gasp. “How did you find out about him?”

“I saw him in those pictures of
my
father that you hid from me.”

Understanding dawns on her face. “You were in the attic last week.” She closes her eyes while trying to steady her breathing. When she opens her eyes again, she asks, “And where did you go to meet John?”

My heart is doing a wild dance in my chest. How I hate this. Hate. It. I have to make myself say, “Bridger and I went to Covington. That’s where Mr. Miller lives now.”

“You went where?” Aunt Grace asks, each word climbing in pitch. “Good grief! I can’t believe you two did this to me. I trusted both of you and this is the thanks I get.”

“Don’t blame Bridger. He felt sorry for me because he knows what it’s like to not have your father there for you. I asked him to help me.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that both of you lied to me,” she snaps.

“Like you’ve been lying?”

Aunt Grace crosses the short distance between us, getting all in my personal space. I step back and bump against the truck.

“What have you done?” she whispers.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Think of the consequences. What if this does something to you?”

“How can finding out about my past hurt me? It seems like you’re the one who’s afraid to find out. That or you don’t want me to know.”

“What exactly did John tell you?”

“He said my father died in 1994, which doesn’t add up since I was born in ’97.”

She shakes her head. “John never really had it together. He must’ve mistaken Nate for someone else.”

“Oh no, don’t even try that. He was adamant. I showed him a few pictures I found, and he still said I couldn’t be Nate Walker’s daughter.”

“That’s crazy!”

“Is it? Or is there another reason you’re lying? Did you kidnap me?”

“Alora, how can you say that?”

“Why don’t we go to the police department? I bet they’ll help me find the truth.” The look on Aunt Grace’s face makes me feel awful. It’s shock, anger, and something else. I expected fear, but it’s different. The look is so sad that I instantly regret everything I said.

“How did I let this happen?” Aunt Grace groans, covering her face with her hands. She doesn’t speak for a while. I want to scream at her to say something, but then I realize she’s crying. Her shoulders shake as muffled sniffles come from her. I’ve never seen her cry before, and I don’t know what to do. Should I try to comfort her? Or should I just leave her alone?

I settle for taking her by the arm and leading her to the porch, where we sit on the steps. “I didn’t lose my mind after talking to Mr. Miller. Don’t you think I deserve to know the truth now?”

She wipes the tears away with the back of her hand. “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t know how you’d take it. Whatever happened to you must’ve been bad and I didn’t want you to relive it again. And . . . Nate also asked me not to tell you.”

Hearing her last sentence makes my insides grow cold. I swallow a few times and wait for her to continue. But Aunt Grace sits quietly and stares into the space ahead of her, like she’s seeing what happened in the past.

Finally, she begins. “Nate enlisted in the army straight out of high school. At the time we thought it was the best thing he could’ve done since he used to get in lots of trouble. Skipping classes, staying out late doing God knows what. Anyway, when he was twenty-four, he was on an assignment in Iraq, and the truck he was riding in drove over a land mine.” She draws a ragged breath. “John was riding in another truck behind Nate. He told me later that he saw Nate’s truck explode. We were told that there were no survivors.”

I remember Mr. Miller’s reaction when he said that Dad had died in 1994. His face was twisted in anger, but his eyes told a different story. They held a haunted look, as if the memory was heartbreaking.

“So I was shocked when Nate showed up in 2002, on my birthday of all days. I was sitting on the river dock feeling sorry for myself. By that time Mama, Daddy, and Darrel were all dead. Nate scared the crap out of me because I didn’t even see him walk up. I remember thinking that I’d finally lost my mind.” She gives a harsh laugh. “But he was real. Of course, I wanted to know what happened, but he said it was classified. All he would say was that he had new life and that he just needed to see me for a little while. We ended up talking for hours like he’d never even left. When he said he had to go, it nearly broke my heart. He promised me he’d be back next year, on my birthday. And sure enough, he kept his word.”

She falls into silence again, this time not saying anything for a long time. I begin to get impatient and figure I’d better prompt her before she decides to end her story there.

“I don’t understand. If he had this whole new life and everything was classified, why did he leave me with you?”

Aunt Grace stares at her hands, clenching and unclenching them on her lap. “That’s the weird part. He didn’t even mention you when he visited that first time, but when he came the next year, he was so excited. He said he’d finally gotten away from whoever was holding him to that mission, and he was gonna bring his family to live close by. I was so happy for him. Darrel and I never had any kids, so imagine how I felt when I found out I had a niece.”

“He didn’t tell you he was going to bring me?”

“No, and what’s really weird is he came twice that day. The first time was in the afternoon, when he told me about you and his plans. Then that night he showed up again at the house. You were unconscious. And he looked like he’d been through hell. He said you and your mom had been attacked and he only had time to get you away. He said he was gonna leave you with me so he could get back and find out what happened to her.”

“So he came back later?”

She frowns. “No. He just told me to take care of you. And before he left, he gave me a key. He said it was to a safety deposit box and to only open it if he didn’t come back. I begged him to tell me what happened, but he wouldn’t. He made me promise I’d never tell you what little I knew. That’s the last time I saw him.”

I try to swallow, but my mouth is bone dry.

“So, that’s everything,” Aunt Grace says. She stands and holds out her hand to me. I grasp it and let her pull me up. “I’m sorry I kept the truth from you, but I did it because that’s what Nate wanted. Whatever happened to you and your mama must’ve been horrible. Horrible enough that you buried that memory deep in your mind. And knowing my brother, he’d rather you not remember.” She takes my other hand and folds them into her own. “Sweetie, I’d never do anything to intentionally hurt you. You’re the only family I have left. I’d do anything to protect you.”

I can’t form words. I stare back at Aunt Grace, unsure of what I’m feeling. For the first time, I understand why she lied to me. And as much as I hate it, I don’t blame her.

I don’t even know how to begin to process what she told me. My life could be the plot of a movie. The only thing missing is an evil madman and then it would be perfect.

“Are you okay?” Aunt Grace asks in a quiet voice.

“I think so,” I say, remembering something else she said. “You mentioned a safety deposit box. Where was it?”

“It was in Atlanta.”

“What was in it?”

A thick pause follows. “It didn’t reveal any more information about what Nate had been doing for all those years. It just had papers I’d need to take care of you. Your birth certificate, social security card, things like that.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

“Can I see them?”

Aunt Grace lets my hands go and sighs. “Really, they’re just legal documents, nothing you’d need to examine for yourself. I have them stored for safekeeping.”

“Can you at least tell me my mother’s name?”

“Sure,” she says softly. “It’s Addie. But don’t bother trying to find any information on her. I’ve already searched and I couldn’t find anything.”

I wonder if she’s lying again. Probably. But instead of accusing her, I paste on a smile and hug her. “I’m so sorry for lying to you and sneaking off today.”

“I’m sorry for not telling you what I knew.” Aunt Grace gives me a squeeze then pulls back. “I guess we’re even, huh?”

“Yeah, I suppose so.”

“Are you okay?”