Page 84 of Luck of the Devil
“She let you believe what?” my grandmother asked, her eyes red with tears.
I turned to her and offered her a tender smile. “She stole us from each other, Grandma. But no more.”
She sat up straighter and shook her head. “No, Harper. No more.”
“She knew,” I said, looking up at Hannah. “She knew what he might’ve done, and she still let him stay in that house. With her. With me.” I shook my head, my voice breaking. “How do we live with that?”
Aunt Hannah’s composure crumpled.
“I don’t,” she said, starting to cry.
My grandfather leaned his forearms on the table, like the weight of reality had settled on his shoulders. “Harper. We should have checked on you. We had no idea.”
“If only I’d told you,” Aunt Hannah whispered through her tears.
Secrets were the currency my mother had dealt in—held tightly and fiercely protected. They’d made her bitter, paranoid, and miserable. And they hadn’t just hurt her. They’d harmed all of us.
They’d destroyed me.
But they weren’t just her secrets.
They were the ones she’d died protecting. The ones no one had dared to name. The rot at the center of our family wasn’t just the silence that had overtaken us after Andi’s death.
It was my father.
And I was going to crucify him.
My anger was back, and I nearly collapsed with relief. It felt like I was putting on armor I’d forgotten I owned, familiar and protective. My entire life had been fueled by anger, and I couldn’t lose it now. Not when it was the only thing standing between me and the devastating truth that my mother had chosen a monster over her children.
Malcolm leaned into my ear, so close I could smell his masculine scent. “What do you want to do?” he asked.
I leaned back and turned to face him, surprised at the fire burning in his eyes. “She said she had it handled. We need to figure out what that meant.”
“Do you have any idea where to look?”
Not really. My mother wasn’t the type to share her feelings. I was shocked she shared that much with her sister. But I knew someone who had known her back then, someone observant enough to see the cracks in her façade. She might not have the answers, but it was a place to start. “Lisa Murphy.”
He gave me a slow, sharp nod of approval, then turned to my family. “We’re sorry for the abrupt departure, but there are a few pressing matters we need to attend to.”
My aunt reached across the table to me, and I lifted my hand to take hers. “You’re gonna find out who did this, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
She nodded her approval.
“But,” Malcolm interjected. “As difficult at this might be, we need you to keep it to yourselves until we get this solved.”
“I’ve kept this secret for twenty-some odd years,” Aunt Hannah said, squeezing my hand then releasing it. “I can keep it longer.”
Malcolm turned to my grandparents.
“It was secrets that got Sarah Jane into this mess,” my grandfather said, shooting a dark look to Hannah before shifting his attention back to James. “But I can see that you still need the secrecy so the people who did this to Sarah Jane won’t know you’re comin’. We’ll keep our mouths shut.”
“Not that we have anyone to tell,” Grandma said, giving me a weak smile. “People around here forgot about Sarah Jane long ago.”
They may have forgotten her, but any juicy gossip would be sure to stoke their memories. I’d seen it happen often enough.
“We’ll let you know when we have things resolved,” I said.
