Page 8 of One Last Lie

“What?”

“I think she would appreciate a big hug right now.”

Samuel smiles and runs off to find his sister. I sit for a moment and try to process my own emotions. I feel far too much anger at Isabella. It's true that my father died many years after I left childhood, and it's also true that I felt far more relief than grief at his death, but I do understand the pain she’s feeling. I loved Annie. She was more than a sister to me. She was another side of my soul. Losing her was like losing a piece of myself.

At least they know what happened to their father. Annie vanished without a trace.

I have no intention of allowing myself to continue down this path, so I push those thoughts aside, stand and clear the table, then decide to try talking to Isabella again. Perhaps when she’s alone, she’ll be more willing to open up to me.

I head upstairs and find Isabella sitting in her room on the bed. The door’s ajar. That’s a good sign. If she truly wanted to be left alone, she would have shut and locked it.

I knock softly and ask, “May I come in?”

She looks at me for a moment, then nods.

I enter and smile at her. “Did Samuel come to see you?”

She offers the ghost of a smile. “Yes. He said you told him to apologize and give me a hug.”

I sigh. “Well, he was supposed to do that without letting on that I told him, but yes. Where is he now?”

“He’s in his room. I put a movie on for him. It’s the one with the turtles. He’ll stay until it’s over.”

Her anger has calmed. This could be my chance to get through to her. I smile and ask, “Could you show me some of your photographs?”

She frowns. “Why do you care so much about my picture?”

“Well, as I said, my sister was quite the amateur photographer herself. I never had the artistic talent for that sort of pursuit, but she had a true gift. I enjoy seeing art that reminds me of her.”

She looks down at her feet for a moment, then slides off the bed. She retrieves a shoebox from her closet and brings it to the bed. When she takes the top off, I gasp in unfeigned wonder. “Oh, Isabella! These are wonderful!”

The photographs are all of wildlife. There are images of birds taking wing, fish leaping from the water, a squirrel holding an acorn in his hand, mouth open in anticipation of the bite, and various other candid scenes of nature.

She smiles slightly and says, “I always wondered what animals’ lives are like: what they do and how they think and stuff. These pictures are like getting to know that a little. I like this one the best.”

She pulls out a photograph of baby foxes pressed next to their mother while their father looks down on them in wonder. The mother’s eyes communicate the sort of love that only a mother has and that she only has for her children. The pride in the father’s face is unmistakable. It truly is fascinating how alike humans and animals are in so many ways.

“This is beautiful, Isabella, Thank you for—” I stop when I turn to her and see her crying. “Isabella! What’s wrong?”

She shakes her head and rubs the tears from her eyes. Then she quickly takes the picture and puts it back in the box before replacing the lid and rushing the box back into the closet. “Umm… I think I want to be alone for now.”

I hesitate. I want nothing more than to tell her that being alone is the worst thing she could do, but I know if I insist, I’ll ruin the fragile trust I’ve built with her. I stand and offer a compassionate smile. “All right. If you need anything else, let me know. I’m always available to talk.”

I start to leave, but when I reach the door, she calls after me. “Wait!” I turn around, and she presses a folded piece of paper into my hand. “I found this in Dad’s room.”

She rushes past me before I can ask what it is. Of course, when I unfold it the answer to that becomes clear.

It also becomes clear why she ran off before we could talk.

The paper is a handwritten note, I assume, from Johnathan. It reads, Elena attempt four imminent. She may go farther this time.

I frown. To say this has raised more questions would be an understatement.

Who is Elena? What will she attempt? How far will she go?

And why did Isabella entrust me with this information?

I need to talk to Isabella about this, but I think if I push any farther right now, I’ll only push her back into a shell. I put the note in my dresser drawer and retrieve my coat.

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