The Line That Binds Series Box Set (71 page)

“You aren’t shocked by any of this. Have you seen it happen?”

“Yeah,” I admitted, still looking at my hands.

“Symptoms usually don’t crop up until later in life, but given her aunt’s history those lapses could be signs of hereditary dementia.”

“Hereditary,” I repeated, acknowledging the superficial link.

“I believe a few of Genie’s ancestors had Alzheimer’s symptoms also. Genie took an active role in searching her family’s history. That’s how she met my mother, actually.”

“Really?” I looked up at her. Janine may have found out about the well during her search, or she’d already known and was searching for more information. Either way, that info could be useful to LJ.

“My mom worked for the county clerk for over thirty years. When Genie started digging deeper into her genealogy, they became friends.”

“Did Janine find what she was looking for?”

She stared at me curiously and leaned back into her chair. “I believe she did. At least my mom thought so.”

“So there were more of her ancestors who suffered with Alzheimer’s? I wonder how far back it goes.” I knew exactly how far, but I wondered how many people the curse had affected, and how much of the Stockton history Ms. Mitchell knew.

“I’m not sure if it will help, but I’m planning to go through some of my mom’s old records to see if she held on to anything of Genie’s. I discussed this briefly with Mr. Wayde and told him I’d give him anything I found. Since you and your grandfather were close to Genie and know more about the Stocktons than most, I think it would be good idea for you to look over whatever I find. Who knows, there might be something that could help LJ medically. Do you want me to bring copies to you?”

“Yes,” I said without a second thought. “I’ll do anything to help her.”

She smiled. “I thought you would. Hopefully, she’ll see a doctor soon. It’s a very young age to have those symptoms.”

“I just wish there was more I could do for her,” I said honestly. The possible information from Ms. Mitchell might lead us somewhere, but I wanted more.

“You should get to work. I’ve met Simone. You might get in trouble if you aren’t back to the property on time.”

“Right,” I agreed, straightening up and moving toward the door. “Thanks, Ms. Mitchell.”

“You’re welcome. Oh, and Ben,” she said just as I stepped into the hall. “No more locker abuse.”

“It’s Sunday. There’s a wedding today,” I said, tossing the sponge into the sink before pulling the plug in the tub.

“No. I already told you, you’re not going,” Dad replied sternly from the bathroom doorway. “I just said your name ten times before you even heard me, LJ. You’re not going to work.” He raked a hand over his face, trying to contain his emotions.

I watched the last of the tub’s water spiral down the drain. My thoughts. My memories. They were disappearing the same way. But I couldn’t dwell on that. I had to hold it together. I had to stay strong. If I fell apart now, it would only make things harder. For all of them.

“The in-depth eval is Wednesday,” Dad said, when I didn’t respond. “We’ll find more out then. In the meantime, Simone understands. Everyone understands.”

Everyone understands?

No one
understands.

Except Ben.

“I was looking forward to working today,” I uttered, glancing at him. “I’ll do whatever Simone asks. I don’t have to go near the wedding. I’ll stay in the office and sort papers or something. It’s not a big deal.”

Dad ran both hands through his hair. “LJ,” he sighed. “School. Work. They aren’t important right now. Let’s wait until we find out what’s going on, okay?” The pain of a million questions filled his eyes, burying the happiness he’d recently discovered.

I felt bad for him. I hated seeing him this stressed over me. Yet I still wouldn’t tell him about the well or the curse. What would be the point? There was nothing he could do. No one could fix it. No one could fix me.

“Fine,” I conceded. There was no reason to fight with him. I’d find a way to get out of the house while he was at work.

“Good,” he said, tapping his fingers on the vanity. “Since Ben took it upon himself to pick up your school work for the rest of last week, I’ll ask him to grab next week’s too. It won’t be a full week anyway with Thanksgiving.”

My heart surged at Ben’s name.
He’d picked up my schoolwork?
He was there Wednesday when I’d left Ms. Mitchell’s office. His eyes were the only things that stood out that day. The rest was a jumbled mess—talking to Ms. Mitchell, the ride to the doctor’s office, the chill of the waiting room, the talks of preliminary tests and evaluations—but I clearly remembered the way he looked at me. His dark eyes destroyed the barrier I’d stacked between us with one brooding look, etching deep into my mind. If I had one memory in the end, his eyes would be what I wanted to see.

“I was able to keep your mom at bay for a little while longer,” Dad said. “She called again an hour ago. She’s really worried about you.”

“Turning tables,” I mumbled.

Dad reached out and gently set his hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be.”

He smiled weakly. “I will always be sorry for the burdens I’ve put on you. And I’ll say it over and over, even if you tell me not to.”

“Thanks,” I replied as he leaned in and kissed my forehead. His cologne was subtle and familiar, shifting my thoughts to summer movie nights, years ago, when I would fall asleep on the couch and he would carry me to bed. When everything was simple.

He’d already made peace with me for his mistakes, but now I think he felt an urgency to say so much more. Fear was the driving force. He was afraid I’d be gone soon.

And he was right.

Despite picking up LJ’s schoolwork, my interaction with her was nonexistent. As far as I knew, she’d been inside the house since I’d seen her last Wednesday. No school, no work, for a full week.

Carson was tight lipped. He kept our exchanges short, assuring me that she was okay and resting. I wasn’t offended. He wanted to protect her. Not from me alone, but from the reality of it all. Saying the words out loud often had a way of making them solid. Real.

I’d felt the same way. When I first discovered the truth, I didn’t want to acknowledge it with words. Unfortunately, unlike Carson, I knew the whole truth. This wasn’t just some chance at illness. It wasn’t some bullshit probability that could be jinxed into fruition. It also wouldn’t fade with silence. The curse was already solid. Real.

“Have you heard anything new?” Spaz asked, pushing past a few bodies in the hallway to get to me. His blond hair laid flat today, slicked back with no spikes.

“Nope,” I admitted.

Following the drug accusation on LJ last week, I filled Spaz and Iz in on the basics of LJ’s nosebleeds and “possible” memory issues, linking all the info to Janine while keeping my descriptions vague. Iz had called LJ a couple of times since then to check on her, but she said their conversations never lasted longer than five minutes.

I knew Carson wasn’t the only one keeping LJ away. LJ was doing it to herself. If she really wanted to see us, she would. This was her way of letting us go. I knew that now. The night she came to my basement, when she last kissed me, she told me that she knew I’d do anything to help her. That’s why she walked away.

“Iz tried to call her again last night, but she didn’t pick up. I hope she’s okay, man. Are you taking her books over there today?”

“Yeah, I’m going after work. I’m heading to check in with Ms. Mitchell before I leave.”

I hoped she’d found something, anything that could be more than the genetic link. Our options were vanishing. Pop had gone into LJ’s house two more times to fix random crap since last Wednesday, and all he left with were grease stains and back pains. I went online again and hit up the library, searching for more info involving the Stockton family and anything relating to curses, but I found nothing useful. I was still trapped inside a cardboard box.

We weaved through people, passing the front of the cafeteria. “Good luck, Benj. If there’s anything you need, let me know.”

“Thanks,” I replied before he disappeared through the doors.

“Ms. Mitchell,” I called through the open door when I got to her office.

“Come on in, Ben,” she replied, sliding back the room’s polka-dotted curtain.

“Any news for me?” I wanted to cut to the chase. Carson was working a later shift tonight, so I decided I’d go over to visit LJ after I finished a few hours’ work. I was sick of not knowing, sick of waiting. I needed to see her.

Ms. Mitchell tossed a half-eaten salad in the trash can and nodded sideways to the skinny kid lying in the first bed, holding an ice pack to his knee. I tipped my head back to acknowledge him and he did the same.

“I found some information, yes. Let’s step outside a second,” she said, scooping up a manila envelope with her neon blue nails and walking toward me. Closing the door behind us, she held out the envelope. “Here are the copies.”

“Thanks.” I flipped the envelope open and ran a finger over the edges of the pages.

“I dropped off the original copies to Mr. Wayde yesterday afternoon while he was at work. He isn’t looking so great.”

“He looked tired when I dropped off LJ’s class assignments Monday night, but he didn’t say much.”

“The doctor’s assessment last week combined with Genie’s medical history got LJ an appointment for a more in-depth eval today. Hopefully, the results come back quickly so they can look into treatments.”

“There isn’t a cure, though,” I said, knowing it was true for the traditional road. The curse, however, remained a mystery. One I’d die trying to solve.

She shook her head and pinched her lips together. “No. But there are medications that can help curb memory loss and cognitive issues. Diagnosing this early is usually the problem. So we have to cross our fingers that they make the connection, or find another cause.”

“Right,” I replied, pinching a few of the papers inside the envelope, ready to tear into them. A silent moment passed and I looked back at her. She was studying me behind her dark eyeliner. Her eyes weren’t critical, only pensive. “Thanks, Ms. Mitchell. This really means a lot.” I held up the envelope.

“You’re welcome, Ben,” she replied simply. “I hope something in there helps.”

“Where did you get these?” Pop asked, watching me dump the papers onto the dining table.

My shift had technically already started, but this was far more important than pruning trees and bushes. If Simone had a problem, she could suck it. I doubted she’d say anything, though. Now that she was involved with Carson, she had to have already witnessed the pain this was causing everyone involved.

“Ms. Mitchell, the school nurse. Her mom was—”

“Elise. One of Genie’s best friends,” he finished for me. “They met well before Genie and I had.”

I picked up one of the photocopied pages and pointed the county clerk seal. “Apparently, Janine was doing genealogy research when they first met.”

“She told me she’d been replacing some lost documents. She never mentioned research, but she did tell me she helped Elise get out of a bad marriage.”