PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
EPIGLOGUE
CHAPTER 7
I was sitting in my bedroom, reading quietly to myself, the day my mother finally arrived at her cousin's, my great-uncle's, home. My mother was just starting her fourth month of pregnancy when she came. I heard some talking in the hallway. And with the sound of footsteps, the voices grew louder. When I recognised Mama's, I jumped from the bed and flung the bedroom door open. Ella was showing her down the hall, but Mama seemed to know where she was going. Mama stopped before she even spotted me in the doorway, and looked to Ella. "You did have my old guest room fixed up for me, right? I mean, sure it was just a guest room, but I liked it." She seemed different to me in this house, already. Or was it my imagination? Whatever it was, she just seemed snootier here in this house, and only a couple of sentences had burst from her lips. Ella nodded her head quickly, and Mama turned to walk down the hall. That was when she saw me standing there. Her smile seemed almost pasted on at the last minute, for it didn't reach her eyes, and at first she didn't seem to recognise me. Actually, she recognised me, but it looked like she had seen a ghost and had forgotten who I was, then remembered at the last minute. "Well, long time no see, huh?" She laughed, nervously it seemed. "It's good to see you again, Phoenix. The house just didn't feel right without you there." Finally, she seemed genuine about something she said, and I eased a little bit and smiled back at her. "It's good to see you, too, Mama. How are you feeling?" It seemed odd to be suddenly talking to her. I then realised that I had become so accustomed to this family that suddenly she was the fish out of water, and I was just another member of this family. "Good, actually. Not much morning sickness. I've been secretly seeing the doctor and he's told me that everything is going fine, and the baby is healthy." She almost seemed disappointed that the baby was healthy, as if she wanted to just lose it and not have to deal with all of this. Of course, how could she feel that way when she wasn't dealing with much of anything? I was taking responsibility for her actions. So, technically, it was my child she was wishing were unhealthy. "That's good." I was holding the bottom of my t-shirt and twisting it in my hands, something I often did when I was nervous. I just didn't feel right talking to her. She noticed what I was doing with my shirt, and for some reason her eyes widened, and she paled a little bit. I knew that she had seen me do it before, so I didn't understand what had got to her. I looked down at my hands, tangled in the bottom of my shirt, and quickly pulled them free. "Well, um, I'd better get to my room; I'm feeling a bit weak and tired." She didn't give me a chance to even nod in her direction. She walked quickly past me. I watched her walk down the hall and turn the corner, and then I turned to Ella, who looked after my mother, looking actually sympathetic. "What was that all about?" I found her behaviour very odd. Why was she acting so strangely towards me? "I - I'm not sure. She's probably just tired and worn out from the plane ride and the pregnancy. Really, I'm sure when she sees you later, everything will be fine." Then Ella quickly followed in Mama's footsteps, leaving me standing, dumbfounded, in the hall. I shook my head and went back into my room, shutting the door. Just as I had thought, things with my mother were going to be different. She was already different towards me, and she'd only seen me for a few minutes. I shrugged my shoulders to myself and lay back on my bed to read. I ended up falling asleep and almost sleeping through dinner. Which I would have done, until voices in the hall woke me up. When I opened my eyes, the sun had begun to go down and my room was getting dark. I sat up, confused and disoriented, until I heard what sounded like my mother's voice snapping at someone. I walked quickly, but quietly, to my door and cracked it opened. What made me want to eavesdrop, I didn't know, but I wanted to and so I did. "I can't believe you gave her that room, Ella. There are a million other rooms in this house and you gave her her room? What is wrong with you?" Her room? What was my mother talking about? "It brought back too many memories when I saw her standing there and doing that twisty thing with her shirt." "Well, I just thought it would be proper..." Ella began. "Proper? Putting her in Rachael's old room is proper?" My mother's voice grew louder, close to yelling. "It is proper!" Ella cried back in defence. "You know it is, Karen. You know," she said in almost a whisper. I suddenly didn't want to hear anymore. I stepped out of the room. Both looked at me, looking horrified. "What did you hear?" Mama demanded immediately. "Not really much. Just you being concerned about my being in Rachael's old room. I'm sorry, Mama, I didn't know I was even in her old room, and I didn't know it would bother you so much," I said. I was being honest. I didn't understand what it was about me being in this room that bothered her so much. And Ella had never notified me that this was Rachael's room. Once again, I felt spooked out. Of course, according to Mitch, the chances of Rachael actually being dead were slim, but still. This had been her room. Her place. Wasn't I invading? "Well," Mama said, quickly regaining a look of cool and calm about her. "It's just that I wasn't very fond of Rachael. I would prefer it if you weren't in there, but since it is where you settled, there is no reason to move you to a different room." With that she passed me, Ella quick on her heels, leaving me feeling dazed and confused. I went back into my room and just as I turned around, I spotted the clock above my bed and realised that it was almost dinnertime. I only had ten minutes to get dressed! I rushed about the room, grabbing one of my nice dinner dresses, managing to get it on while it was still buttoned up the back. I ran a brush through my hair quickly, braiding it and twisting it into a knot at my neck. I pulled nylons and shoes on, and splashed water on my face to get rid of the look of sleep in my eyes. I knew how Uncle Gerald hated people sleeping in the middle of the day. I rushed out of my door and flipped right over Mitch. "Jesus, Mitch, do you always have to trip me?" I cried, pulling myself to my feet and pulling the skirt of my dress down and smoothing it out. "You're the one who likes to come flying out of doorways like a bat out of hell!" He laughed, looking at me. "Gerald is going to have a fit when he sees you. You don't exactly look very classy this evening." "Yes, I know, but I wasted five minutes of my fifteen minute dressing time trying to analyse what my mother's problem is." I shook my head. "I know, I'm a giant mess, but what am I supposed to do?" He glanced at his wristwatch and bit the inside of mouth. "We have five minutes to get down to dinner. But we're usually late, anyway, so I'm going to help you. Lean down here." I did as he said, leaning down over him. He immediately spun me around and made me kneel in front of him, my back to him. He undid the knotted braid and then took it out completely. Then, taking the hair tie I'd used to tie my hair back, he pulled my hair into a ponytail, letting it just hang. "All right, get up," he demanded. I did, once again, as he said, and rose and tuned around. "That's some improvement. But you still look so tired. Pinch your cheeks some so you don't look so pale." With that he began wheeling past me. The two of us entered the dining room exactly eight minutes late. Uncle Gerald couldn't wait to let us know how late we were and how horrible I looked. As I took my seat next to Mitch, Uncle Gerald looked between Mitch and me suspiciously. "You look like hell, Phoenix. And why are you late, Mitch? I always wondered why the hell you two always seem to be late together and always come in together. And why the hell do you always look like a mess, Phoenix?" I felt myself blush, realising just what he meant. But embarrassment quickly turned into anger, and once more I could not hold my tongue. "Do you even know what you're suggesting, you nasty, horrible man?" I spit out angrily his way. Mama looked completely shocked by my instant attack. As if she had never heard me fight with an authority figure, I thought. What was her problem anyway? Why was she so different here? "Yes, I'm suggesting you to be just as much of a slut as your mother!" Mama looked about to pass out, and Ella quickly rose from the table and went to sit beside her, and fan her off with her hand. I knew my face was red with my own anger. "Mitch is my friend, my cousin, the only person in this damned household that I can actually trust and like! God knows how everyone just adores Jenny! Any time Jenny and I get into a fight, you and your wife always blame it on me. Well, it's pathetic! I hate you and if I had the chance, I'd have let Mama deal with this pregnancy thing herself and I'd have never come here!" My voice slowly began to grow louder, and by the time I was done having my say, I was nearly screaming at him. Mitch, who normally could calm me down, could only stare at me, all colour gone from his face, his blue eyes wide with utter disbelief at my outburst. I looked back at him and he shook his head as if to tell me "you shouldn't have done that". And he was right. Before I could even think to apologise, which I had no intention of doing, Uncle Gerald shot out of his seat. The words had taken a moment to sink in, but the back of his hand came to slam into my cheek and knock me right out of my chair and onto the floor. I looked up at him defiantly as he stood over me, glaring. Everyone at the table looked at the two of us, all unmoving. It was as if time was at a complete standstill. They all waited to see what would happen next. With only anger, not a single tear in my eyes, I rose; deadly calm, from my position on the floor. I smoothed out my dress and picked up my chair. Uncle Gerald watched me the whole time, his black eyes blazing with anger. I lifted my chin and pulled my shoulders back. Only after I had pushed my chair up to the table did I look at him. My eyes glared right into his and a smile appeared on my lips, a mocking, degrading smile. "Do you, honestly, think that by hitting me you will accomplish a damn thing?" My voice was low, calm, and yet vicious. "I'm sorry but I have gone fifteen, nearly sixteen years of your nephew's abuse and you could pound me until I was black and blue, just as he has, and I wouldn't give a damn. You and your abusive nephew mean absolutely nothing to me. You never will. So, I suggest that, if you would like to keep your dignity, you never lay a hand on me like that again." With that, I left the room, my head held high. Everyone sat, Uncle Gerald the only one standing, gaping after me. Every single one of them was shocked by my words, yet I knew that at least Mama and Mitch knew that I meant them. Especially Mama. She had seen my temper blow up before. She knew that I meant what I had said. I sat up in my bedroom, letting my anger sit in the pit of my stomach as I thought of all of the things that I wished I had really said to him. Doing that only made me angrier but I didn't care. I had a right to be angry. My left cheek was still throbbing, and when I looked in the mirror, it was beet red. I expected that it probably would bruise; he had backhanded me so hard. Pain was also shooting up my back from where and how I had fallen to the floor. I rubbed the small of my back and groaned, just as there was a knock on my door. I rose, almost expecting him to be there to make threats on me. Threats I didn't fear in the least bit. So I walked to the door ready for them. When I opened the door, however, Mitch was there. In his lap was an ice pack. Without a word, I stood back and let him enter. "You shouldn't be up here. He'll have something nasty to say about it," I said, though without any conviction. I wanted him here. He was the only person I could run and cry to. "I don't care, and you know that you don't either." he stated simply and waved his hand to me, encouraging me to sit in front of him on the edge of the bed. I did so quickly, facing him, my head down. The anger in me was gone now, and only sadness had been left behind. He placed his forefinger under my chin and forced me to look up at him. His lips curved into a smile, slowly at first, as if almost afraid to. And then wider, until it reached his bright blue eyes. Then, to my surprise, he laughed. "I have never in my life witnessed someone let that difficult, mean man have exactly what he deserves." He pushed my head to the right so he could look at my cheek. "I'm proud of you, Phoenix Parish. Very proud of you," he said, the laughter gone from his voice. The smile stayed until he placed two fingers on my cheeks and I grimaced. "He hit you really hard. Harder than I thought. That will definitely bruise." I nodded. "My lower back hurts, too, from falling the way I did." I rubbed at it as another pain shot up it, as if to remind me to say something. "Yeah, I figured you'd be in some considerable pain from the fall, too," he said nodding. "But, for the most part, are you alright?" I smiled bitterly, letting the first tears into my eyes, knowing there was no way of stopping them. "Just another emotional scar," my voice cracked, and then the tears came rolling down my cheeks. He pulled me to him, stroking my hair gently. "I'm sorry, Phoenix, I really am. Had I been able to do anything�" I pulled away from him. "It's not your fault, you couldn't, Mitch. Besides, if I hadn't said anything, then I wouldn't be in any pain right now. I'd be eating dinner and my stomach wouldn't be growling," I moaned, lying down on my stomach, resting my head in my arms. I peered over at him. "What's my problem, Mitch? Why do I have to say anything?" "Because you stand up for yourself. There is nothing wrong with that. You feel that if you don't defend yourself, who is going to." He shook his head and smiled. "That is definitely a trait to be admired, Phoenix, not many people are like that." "But it seems as if speaking my mind and defending myself seems to be far more painful than shutting my mouth and just allowing whoever walk all over me." I felt so bitter and miserable. I, once again, blamed myself for yet another argument. An argument that very well could have been prevented. Of course, most arguments that involved me could be prevented. I just didn't know when to stop "defending myself" as Mitch had put it. "Letting people walk on you is the easy way out, Phoenix. That's just being weak. This family has been weak for too long, letting the king downstairs rule over all of us. We've needed someone like you to come change things. I needed you to come change things and be my friend, the only one I really have. You're strength in this household. A strength that has been needed for a long time. Don't let him, or anyone else make you think that you are weak. You are not weak. You are far from it. Never change, Phoenix. Never change." He placed the ice pack on my lower back and then wheeled out of my bedroom without another word, leaving me to think about everything he had said. Right before I fell asleep from emotional exhaustion, I decided that he was right and I had to stay strong. For if I became like the rest, allowing myself to be ordered around, I would be weak. And weakness was not something I looked at kindly. Weakness was one of the things I feared most in my life. I woke when I felt the presence of another person, a few hours later. I curled up into a tighter ball, but squinted into the darkness to make out a shadowy figure. Then I heard the familiar sound of my mother biting out a curse and the sound of dishes clanking together. I sat up quickly and leaned over to turn the nightstand light on. She had gotten her balance back by the time I had flicked the light on, and she looked at me with relief in her eyes. "Thank you!" she cried out as she made her way to my bed, where she sat my food down and sat beside me on the bed. "That nasty old bastard would have a fit if he knew I brought this to you," she said, motioning with her head towards the tray that I had already begun to pick at. "But you need to eat, and you're still my child. I still have the responsibility of taking care of you." "Thank you for risking his wrath to bring this to me," I said softly. I felt comfortable with her now. More so than I had since she had arrived earlier. She now seemed more like herself, maybe even more motherly than usual. It didn't matter. I was just grateful to have her acting like my mother, and not somebody I didn't know. "I'm also sorry about the way I acted earlier. I know I wasn't acting myself, but this house does things to people. It changes them. I'm feeling more like myself, now, really." She picked at imaginary lint on my bed, not looking me in the eyes. Somehow, I knew her motherly behaviour had something to do with Ella. "It's alright, Mama. But, why were you angry with me being in here? It really is a lovely room. I like it." I wanted to know what it was that made her eyes turn dark at the mention of Rachael's name. She sighed before answering, and then she looked up at me. "Rachael was absolutely beautiful, Phoenix. She didn't even realise her beauty, though, and it seemed to attract men; men that I wanted. Now that she is long gone, I'll admit that I was jealous of her. I couldn't stand her. She was the epitome of female perfection, and it annoyed me. She was a good girl, never did anything wrong. That is what bugged me most about her." She shook her head, cradling her forehead into the palm of her hand for a second, and then ran her hand through her hair. "It has nothing to do with you, though, so don't you worry about it, really. In the end, Rachael turned out to be the smart one, running away and breaking off all ties with this incredulous family." I just sat there, staring at her. Mama was so beautiful, how in the world could she be jealous of someone? What man in his right mind would choose another woman over the affections of my mother? I had never thought it possible before, especially when she was younger. Yet, here she was telling me that's exactly how it went. "Why would you think she was so perfect, Mama?" "Because she was perfect. She was perfect because she didn't know she was perfect, she was simply herself." She stood up and I could tell she was finished with this conversation. "You go ahead and eat. I'm sure your maid will take your plates down in the morning. Gerald won't pay any attention." She leaned down and kissed me on the forehead, something she hadn't done since I was a little girl. "Finish eating and sleep well, sweetie. I love you. Goodnight." Then she left my room without a glance back at me. I knew before I let myself drift off to sleep that night, that the more I got to know this family, the deeper entangled in its web I became. What was it that made them all so strange? I knew something had to have happened in this family not long before I was born. Something that was never brought to my knowledge, because there was no reason to let me know something about a family I didn't even know. But I knew them now. I knew them now and I would soon find out more and more about this family. I just hoped and prayed it didn't bring me down to their level. I did realise something else, though, and that was this family's problems seemed to all centre around one word, one person. That was Rachael. The next morning as I got ready to start another emotional draining day, I began to think about "my" bedroom really being Rachael's. Did that mean there was things about the room that were hers, or did they get rid of all semblance of her? For the first time since I had gotten there, two months before, I actually researched my room, hunting for things that could have been hers. I had no idea what this supposed beauty even looked like, because I knew Uncle Gerald had made Ella get rid of every picture in the house of her. So when I found out that the vanity table's top lifted up and I found the old photo inside, with the words Rachael and Josh scrawled on the back, I grew excited. When I looked at the girl in the picture, I immediately saw why Ella constantly compared me to her. I reminded her of her every time she looked at me! It looked like a picture of me, only with slight differences. Such as I thought my nose was a little sharper, a little longer than hers and her eyes were a different shape than mine, but they were the same Parish colour. In the picture she was smiling broadly, looking genuinely happy and she was embracing a very handsome young man. His eyes were a strange blue violet and he had long eyelashes. His nose was absolutely, perfectly straight and his lips were curved into a slight smile. They, too, had perfect shape, his lower lip a bit fuller than his top. I could only assume that the two of them were together, possibly lovers. They looked happy together, though. I could easily see Mama's jealousy of her. Though I did look like my father's cousin, there was something special about her that made her extra beautiful. She seemed to shine from the inside out. She was amazingly beautiful, innocently beautiful, I thought to myself. She looked so happy in the picture I couldn't comprehend why she would run away from here. Why would she leave if she looked so happy? Tears came to my eyes. Something happened, I decided. Something that involved everyone in this house, and maybe more people I had yet to meet. Something made this beautiful young woman escape from a living hell. It had to be that way. I had heard enough of her to know that she had the Parish temper and was just as stubborn. She was desperate to get away from them. "I'll find out what happened, Rachael," I promised the picture I held in my hands. "I promise you, that if you are dead now because of your escape from them, I will find out what happened and make things right." After finding the picture, which I quickly put back in its hiding place under the vanity table, I no longer felt spooked to be in her room. I felt a strange kinship with her, and I wanted to help her. I just had to help her. I didn't even tell Mitch that I had found that picture of her. I was afraid that somehow, someone would find out about it and take it away from me. I knew that she must have hidden the picture for a reason. What the reason was, I didn't know, and I wished desperately that someone could tell me. But asking about it meant telling someone about it. If they took that and burned that like they had her other pictures, somehow I knew that if she found out about it, she would be hurt. That picture held some importance, and I had to keep it a secret. I had been here two months before Mama, and with her living in the house now, it felt so strange. This had become my lifestyle; they had become my family. Mama hanging around seemed awkward, and I could tell that she could feel the awkwardness I felt towards her. This was a whole new life for me and, really, she was my past that I had somehow managed to let myself forget about, until she had come here. I found it difficult to talk to her, because of the fact that she was four months pregnant with a child that shouldn't even have to be born. I couldn't help but wonder if Mama had even bothered to tell Damian about it or not. "Mama?" I began one day as I sat in her room, applying make up and doing her hair. Ella and her had decided to have lunch that day. Just the two of them. "Yes?" She didn't stop to look at me, just kept pulling at strands of her hair; trying to reach the perfection that she wanted. "I was just curious, but did you ever tell Damian about the baby?" I knew the answer before her lie could escape her lips. Her face had paled, and she slowly set the curling iron down. Finally, after a few moments she turned to me. "What would make you ask that?" She smiled charmingly at me, the colour having returned to her face. She was now an actress, ready to let lies fall from her lips as if it were the honest to God truth. "Well, I was just thinking that maybe Damian might like to know that he has a child on the way. Wouldn't you think it's right to tell him?" Her eyes glittered almost angrily in spite of the sweet smile she had frozen on her face. "Of course I told him. He just didn't care. He said he wanted to have nothing to do with the baby!" She began to cry, and I couldn't help but want to applaud her for such a grand act. I knew damn well that she hadn't told him. Damian had once confessed to me that more than anything in the world he wanted children. I would have thought that meant illegitimately or not. "When exactly did you ask him?" The question that I'd meant to be innocently asked came out challenging, and she shot me a look full of fire. "Do you not believe me? You think I am a liar?" she demanded. I almost laughed. I wanted to say, "Yes, Mother, you are a liar." But I kept my mouth sewn shut to those tempting words. "I was just curious as to when you asked him, Mama, that's all." If she could act so well, I had to have been able to inherit the talent from her. I feigned my innocence just as she feigned her own. "Well, I asked him right before I left." She began crying again, burying her head in her hands. "He took advantage of me, Phoenix! He used me and I loved him!" I rolled my eyes, trying not to laugh at her. Of course he used her for sex. What else would a married woman with five children, one almost his own age, be used for? He certainly had no intentions of marrying her. She was already taken! Besides, he was too young to be a stepfather. "Don't worry about it, Mama. Someday you'll find someone to love, appreciate and respect you." I managed to choke out my "comforting" words, though it was difficult to do so. If she wanted love, appreciation and respect, first she had to leave my father. She was too stupid and weak to think of that, though. "Oh, thank you, sweetie. I know you're right, of course." She smiled and wiped at her over dramatic display of tears. "I'd better finish getting ready!" She turned back to the mirror, and I knew that the conversation was over. I had been dismissed. I left the room, shaking my head. I walked along the beach only minutes later, deep in thought. According to Ella, pieces of Rachael's clothing and drops of her blood had been found out here. I stopped to look out at the water that roared upon the shore. The wind was picking up and lifting strands of my hair. The ocean had a tale to tell, I thought to myself. It knew what really happened to her. It had witnessed everything. If only the water could speak. I also knew that Ella, who had been her best friend, knew things about Rachael. She had to have known her enemies, had to have known why someone would want to harm her best friend. Ella was hiding something about Rachael. I was convinced that she was hiding something that nobody else knew about. Of course, after the miscarriage she'd had, Ella had told me, Rachael had just turned into herself. She had refused to talk to anyone about anything. One could only assume that she had killed herself in her misery. But had she actually killed herself, then why would drops of blood and pieces of clothing be found out here, but no body? Where was Rachael really? Was she really even dead? I could easily see why Ella held onto her hope that her best friend was alive. A few drops of blood didn't mean that she was dead. It could mean a million things. I just wished there were someone else I could talk to that had known her. I had so many questions to ask but nobody to ask. Then I thought about it. My parents had left here after Rachael had disappeared, hadn't they? Maybe, just maybe, in spite of her hatred and jealousy, Mama knew something about Rachael. Maybe, somehow, Mama had some information that could send me on the right track. I knew I had to ask Mama about it. I just had to find a way to do it without her really knowing that I was interested in Rachael's past. I smiled to myself. The only way to really get anything out of Mama was to be interested in her and only her. If I worded my questions the right way, there was a possibility that I could get answers that I needed and wanted from the past. As I made my way back up to the house, I saw Mama and Ella coming down the steps to leave. Mama's pregnancy still had yet to become evident, and she looked absolutely luminous in the white pantsuit that she was wearing. Her figure was still absolutely perfect, no way of knowing that she was carrying an illegitimate child. I past them as I walked up the front steps, and Ella flashed a smile at me. "Why don't you come with us, Phoenix?" she asked. I thought about it. I would have said no if I hadn't seen the look of irritation on Mama's face at the thought of me going. So I smiled at Ella and said, "I'd love to, Ella! Do I look alright to go with you?" "You always look beautiful, dear. Come on!" Ella grabbed hold of my hand and tugged me back down the stairs. Mama looked so annoyed by my going, I couldn't help but laugh and smile. Did I really bug her that much? She really should be careful, I thought to myself; after all, I was the one getting her out of the jam she had got herself into by cheating on my father. We went out to a nice Chinese food restaurant, and Ella and I did most of the talking that day. Mama sat fuming because I had gone. She ate her food in silence, only nodding or saying something if she were forced to do so. I decided that while she had her mouth so zipped closed, this was the perfect chance for me to ask Ella more about Rachael. "Ella, you've told me so much about Rachael, but you've never told me anything about the whole miscarriage thing, really." Mama choked on her food, and Ella and I looked over at her. I was more shocked; Ella seemed shocked by my question. "Why would you want to know more about that?" Ella asked, instead of really telling me anything. "Well, was she married? I've never heard of her having a husband. And how old was she exactly? Did she have many friends?" The questions began to flow freely, as if they had been locked up for years rather than weeks. "Whoa, wait up there, Phoenix. Where is this interest in Rachael suddenly coming from?" Mama demanded. Her eyes were blazing with a strange light. She seemed angry, yet disappointed, and really upset at the same time. "Well, since I am in her room, I just thought I'd like to know more about her. Besides, she seemed to be such an important member of the family. I'm just curious," I offered as my explanation. "Well, alright," Ella said, deciding that she would answer my questions. Mama, on the other hand, didn't seem to want me to know anything about her or the past. "No, Rachael was not married. She wanted to marry a young man that she was very much in love with, but Gerald forbid it because he thought him to be, in spite of the young man's wealth, below the Parish family." Mama looked away. I could almost see the memories welling up in her eyes. "Rachael was a very good and caring person, unless you made her angry. She had a horrible temper and was not afraid to do battle with anyone, whether it was physically or verbally. She didn't have many friends, though, because she kept everyone at a distance. I was one of her few friends." Mama let out a sigh and finally put in her two cents. "Though I was highly jealous of Rachael, she considered me a good friend." She looked down sadly. "I was a horrible friend. Anything she ever told me always managed to get back to Gerald. But I didn't care; I wanted to hurt her. I feel so responsible, damn it!" She got up from the table and walked away, but not before I got a glimpse of the tears in her eyes. "So, Mama and Rachael were friends?" I asked. That was new information to me. Ella nodded. "Karen and Rachael always seemed to be close to everyone. In fact, for a while I was jealous of Karen, because she seemed to have taken away the only really good, true, honest friend I'd ever had. When I found out it was Karen telling Gerald everything about Rachael, I was so angry with her. There was a huge fight." She shook her head. "Anyway, to answer the other question you asked, she was nineteen years old when she lost her baby. Her depression kept her from being the Rachael we all knew so well. The only time she ever seemed to be content or happy was whenever she was with Mitch. She wanted a child, her own child, so badly. It was all she ever dreamed about. Then that dream was taken away from her." Ella was trying not to let her own tears loose. "The night she disappeared, her and Gerald got into a huge fight and he beat her up. She told me that she couldn't handle it anymore, and ran to her room and shut herself in. The next day we found her gone. It's why I think she is still alive. She ran away, Phoenix, she can't possibly be dead!" I was stunned into complete silence. I had found out a lot more about Rachael than I knew before. Ella was right. Rachael must have run away, and she must have done it not long after she had locked herself in her bedroom. Since the windows in the bedroom gave a perfect view of the ocean, I could only assume she climbed out the window, and that was where the clothing and the blood had come from. Ella must have decided that, too. Yet, her own father had declared her dead and forgotten all about her, going as far as burning anything that would remind anyone about her. Nobody spoke on the way home. I was lost in my own thoughts, and I knew Ella and Mama were lost in memories of a girl that had once been a friend to both of them, in spite of Mama's jealousy. I knew what I'd heard about Rachael was, no matter how much I had heard, only the beginning to a very long and sad story. There was much more about it to discover. The more I heard, though, the more I wanted, no, needed to know. There was so much about the past that had been kept hidden until now. Now, I decided, it was time for me to find the truth about what had happened, and give them all the peace they needed. They needed to get rid of the burden about Rachael's disappearance. I had to find out more about her, before I could find out what happened to her. I would find out about what happened to her, though. Someday. I just had to look hard and listen to the story that everyone was willing to tell. At the time, I certainly didn't realise that the truth about Rachael's disappearance was just at my fingertips. At the time I didn't know that soon more and more truths would begin to fall down around me and, whether I liked it or not, things about myself were about to be revealed. There was no question about it. I was not ready for what was about to happen.
