Page 89 of Buried Roots

When she doesn’t, I say, “Please, Frankie, if you know something more, you need to tell me. I have to know the whole truth about my past, so I can finally be free of it.”

She doesn’t answer, and my lips go numb, making it hard to form words. But the anger settles in my gut again, and my tone is sharp when I say, “Who caused the fire?”

Frankie opens her mouth, but another voice answers, “I did.”

It’s Trinity’s.

36

The Shock

SeeingTrinityridingRaven,we all jump up and rush over to her.

“Trinity.” Frankie groans. “What in god’s name are you doing here?”

“Sorry, Ma. Roy is at our house, and he needs to talk to Willow real bad.”

He wants to tell me about my father.

“I said I’d come get you guys.” Trinity hops off the horse holding an iPad and approaches me. She sobs so much she struggles to speak. “Ma was just there to rescue me the night of the fire. That’s who Bailey saw.”

I don’t respond. In shock, I can’t.

“I’m so sorry, Willow.” Trinity’s lips quiver. “At the party, I heard the appraiser saying that if you didn’t pass the electrical inspection, they wouldn’t buy the house from you. I wanted you to stay, so I cut the electrical box wires. They sparked. Bad. I didn’t know it would do that. I’m sorry. I never meant for a fire.” She chokes out a sob. “I just wanted you to stay.”

“Aw, Trinity.” I pull her into a hug. She did a terrible thing, but she’s too young to fully understand the consequences of her actions.

“There’s more.” She pulls away and hiccups. “I found something. It made me want you to stay even more. I found a video on Bo’s computer that you have to see.” She presses some buttons and hands me the iPad.

“But Bo’s computer was destroyed.” I furrow my brows.

“This was on his Google drive,” she says, matter-of-factly. “There’s a ton of stuff on there.”

A Google drive. Of Bo’s. So everything isn’t lost! Relief rushes through me.

I take the iPad, and on the screen is a paused video of Annie holding a baby.

Seeing a picture of Annie is one thing. But knowing that I’m about to see her move, to hear her voice makes me crave the touch of a woman I can hardly remember.

She must be holding me, but why does she look older than in the pictures I found of her and me as a newborn?

I hit play, and Annie looks at the camera, her eyes glossy with happy tears. Her mouth presses in a half-smile, and I recognize the expression as my own.

“Hi Willow, I—“ For a moment, her smile breaks and her lips tremble. She tries to talk again and has to swallow. She clears her throat and tries again. This time she’s able to continue. “I wanted to send this to you so you know how much I think of you and miss you every day.”

My mother’s voice. It sounds so familiar, but with the rasp that comes with age. A memory of her singing to me comes back to me, and it soothes me. I realize the sound is weaved into my being.

She continues, “I don’t blame you if you can’t forgive me for what I’ve done, and lord knows, I’ll never forgive myself, but I need you to know why I did what I did.” She looks away, blinking away tears. When she returns her gaze, she says, “Sometimes people get trapped in relationships, and they can’t get away. No matter how hard they try. It’s like that with me and your father. That’s not your fault; don’t ever think that. It just is. And your dad is mean sometimes, Willow. Very, very mean. And he was mean to you, so I had to send you away so that he couldn’t hurt you. He kidnapped you, and you could’ve died in those woods.” She leans forward, moving her face closer to the camera. “But I miss you every single minute of every single day.” She shakes her head and takes a moment to steady herself. Then she smiles wistfully. “As a little girl, you made us smile every day. Lily loved you so much—you were named after her favorite tree. You were so smart and sassy—you knew how to solve puzzles before you were even two. You’d build fancy Legos that made Bo’s heart go pitter-patter. He was so proud, still is. I am too.”

Puzzles. Legos. I don’t remember them, but it’s really nice to know something about me from my early childhood.

Annie blows out a long sigh. “I tried so hard to be a good mother to you, but every time I started getting my life on track, something happened, and sometimes I’d get a kind of sickness. It would take over my mind and prevent me from being a good mother. And you deserved a good mom, Willow. So Bo and Lily helped me. They took custody of you. They loved you so much and took such good care of you when I couldn’t. Do you remember the house in Atlanta? Do you remember when I’d visit? Our walks? Our picnics? I came to see you every weekend. Every single one, until your dad found out and tried to take you again. That’s when we sent you away forever.” Annie purses her trembling lips, hesitating. After a moment of gathering herself, she says, “I wish I could tell you I never saw your dad again, and that I had the strength to finally get away from him, but I didn’t, not until this little one came.” She looks down at the baby.

And I finally realize the baby isn’t me. That’s why Annie looks older and this video is newer than the pictures of her with me as a newborn.

Annie smiles. “This is Trinity, Willow. She’s your sister. She looks so much like you. I can’t believe it.”

What?

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