Legacy of Lies

“Gray eyes,” I observed. “Her hair’s lighter than mine, but her eyes are gray and the facial structure’s the same.”

“You see why Grandmother is going crazy,” Matt said.

“You look like her sister. You look like Avril the year she died, and it’s spooking her.”

I nodded. “The question is why. Sixty years is too long to be mourning a sister, to be upset about seeing someone who resembles her. . unless there is more to the story.”

I looked at him expectantly, but he said nothing.

“In my dream Grandmother told Avril she would pay for what she had done.”

“So?”

“What did she mean by that?”

“Sounds like a typical fight between sisters,” he replied, but he wouldn’t meet my eyes. He knew more than he was saying.

“Mrs. Riley said the cause of death was an overdose.”

His hand tensed till it creased the picture he held. What had Grandmother told him the night they had spoken in her bedroom?

“But,” I continued, “who would know the difference between an accidental overdose and deliberate poisoning?”

“You can’t be thinking-”

“Only Avril,” I continued, “and the person who poisoned her, the murderer, if there is one.”

“Megan, I told you not to trust Lydia. She makes her money off people’s fears. She suggests things and lets people make themselves crazy wondering about them.”

“So, why did Grandmother go to see her the other day?”

“You’ll have to ask her,” he said brusquely. His face was a mask. Grandmother had nothing to worry about-he wasn’t telling her secrets. I was the one who should be wary of what I said to him; he probably told her everything.

“Does that key work on the other drawers?” I asked.

He unlocked them, and I started going through files and boxes.

“Look at these.” I showed him photos of myself and my brothers, our names and ages inscribed on the back in my mother’s handwriting. Grandmother never even sent us a Christmas card, but apparently my mother kept writing to her, kept trying to make contact.

Matt placed a picture of me on the first day of kindergarten next to a young one of Avril, then shook his head slowly. He cradled in his hand a photo of Avril standing by the gate in the herb garden. “It’s scary how much you look alike,”

“It’s as if I’ve been here before,” I said, watching his face carefully. “Have you ever felt like that, Matt, like you’ve been in this house some time long before now?”

“No,” he answered quickly.

Perhaps I was reading into it, but it seemed to me that if Matt had never thought about reincarnation, my question would have drawn a different response, a slower one. He would have looked at me puzzled and asked what I meant.

“You should leave,” he said.

“No way”.

“Why are you so stubborn?” he exclaimed.

“It’s you who are stubbornly refusing to open your mind to questions and explanations you don’t like. I’m staying here till I find out what’s going on.”

“Nothing’s going on,” he argued, walking away from me.

“You look like Avril. It’s just a bad coincidence, and you’re going to make both yourself and Grandmother insane over it.” He started pacing the room.

“Did you move any of the objects in this house?” I asked.

Matt swung around. “I’m not the kind to play tricks.”

“Then you must suspect me,” I said. “But think about it.

How would I know where those objects were kept when Avril was alive, unless-”

“Grandmother moved them,” he interrupted. “Maybe she’s gotten senile and did it without remembering, or this is just some crazy spell she’ll snap out of. Whatever the case, you’re not making things any easier for her.”

He walked over to me. “Finished?” Without waiting for my answer, he put the photos and boxes back in the drawers and turned the key in the lock.

“Matt, those pictures mean that Grandmother has always known that I look like her sister. She knew and chose to invite me. I want to know why.”

“Curiosity,” he replied.

“Guilt,” I countered. “Morbid curiosity and guilt.”

Matt shook his head. “You’re getting stranger than Grandmother. Take my advice, Megan. Get out of here. Get out before it’s too late for both of you.”

I got up from my chair. “Sorry. It already is.”

When I returned to my room, I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I dressed and took a long walk, spending time by the water then stopping by Avril’s grave. It didn’t give me the same eerie feeling as the first time I saw it. Perhaps seeing your own grave is like looking at a gushing wound on your leg: Once you’re over the initial shock, it seems natural enough. I knelt down before the stone and traced the name and dates with my finger. On the final date my finger stopped. Today.

Avril had died sixty years ago today.

When I finally arrived back at the house, it was nine o’clock. I entered through the front hall, wanting to avoid Grandmother and Matt in the kitchen. I was angry with Matt for turning away when I needed his help. He had chosen Grandmother over me, determined to protect her at any cost.

I crept upstairs, stuffed some things in a backpack, and headed out again, leaving a note in the hall telling Grandmother I’d be gone for a while. My first stop was the library at Chase College. I hoped to access local newspaper articles from Avril’s time that might shed light on what had happened.

Three hours later, totally frustrated by the library’s ancient and cranky microfiche machines, I’d found just one short piece on Avril that attributed her death to allergic reaction. It made no mention of the mill or Thomas. After trying a number of sources on red-creep, it became obvious that its local name would not yield information on the plant and its byproducts. But I got lucky with Angel Cayton. She had not only started the Watermen’s Fund but contributed to the college. A librarian directed me to a conference room where her portrait hung.

Angel looked like all the other matrons honored in the conference room, with gray hair, blue eyes, and a bustline that could amply support pearls and eyeglasses-only she wasn’t wearing pearls. Around her neck hung a silver chain with a blue gem as mystical as the eyes of my newest-and perhaps oldest-friend. It was the pendant Sophie loved.

I opened the front gate. “Is Sophie around?” I called to the group of little girls who were playing dolls on the porch.

Barbie and Ken kissed with loud smacking noises, then one of Sophie’s sisters turned to me. “Mom said we can only have one friend over at a time. Sophie’s already got one.”

“I’ll be just a minute. Is she inside?”

“Around back,” said another sister.

I followed a stone path to the narrow space between the Quinns’ house and the house next door and emerged into a backyard.

“Oh,” I said, though I shouldn’t have been surprised. “Hi.”

Sophie, who had been leaning over a tub of suds, leaped to her feet. A large black-and-white dog jumped with her.

Alex caught the dog just before it escaped its bath. Soap bubbles flurried around them.

“Hey, Megan,” Alex said, smiling. “Want to help us wash Rose? We’ll throw in a free bath for you.”

I laughed. “Thanks, but I’ve already had mine. I’ll watch.”

“Rose met up with a skunk this morning,” Sophie told me.

“I’ll watch from a distance.”

“And Alex sort of stopped by to help,” she continued, looking embarrassed.

“Glad he got here first,” I teased.

“It was nice because he hadn’t seen the girls for a while,” she added, as if Alex had come by with the passionate hope that he could deskunk her dog and visit her sisters.

“Like I told you before, we’re just old friends.”

She was so worried that she was intruding on my dating territory, she missed the expression on Alex’s face-the protest he almost spoke aloud. I saw it and smiled.

“You know, Sophie, I’m here for a two-week visit,” I reminded her. “And I doubt Grandmother will be asking me back.”

Alex realized that I was giving Sophie “permission” to go with whomever she wanted and glanced sideways at her, but she didn’t get it. I don’t think it had crossed her mind that her old crabbing buddy was falling for her-falling fast, I’d say.

“How’s Matt today?” Alex asked.

“Hot and bothered, thanks to me.”

“Any chance of you two cutting each other a break?” he asked.

“Don’t think so,” I replied, and tried to ignore the ache inside me.

I watched him and Sophie work the soap through the thick fur of the dog, debating what to say in front of Alex. How aware was he of Sophie’s psychic side? He seemed an open-minded person; still, I decided to mention only what I had to.

“Listen, Sophie, I’m trying to get information on the plant called redcreep. Do you know its botanical name?”

“No, but Miss Lydia might.”

“What do you need to know about it?” Alex asked.

“I was told that people used it as a beauty supplement. I want to know if the processed stuff has any taste-or smell or color. Does it dissolve in liquid? What exactly does it do to you? How fast does it work? How much is too much and what are the symptoms of an overdose-uh, you know, that kind of thing,” I added casually, after giving a list that belonged in a forensic lab.

“Why do you want to know?” he asked.

I glanced at Sophie.

“It’s a long story,” she answered for me. “How about someone at the college, Alex-would one of the biology profs know?”

“We can find out,” he replied.

“Would you?” I asked quickly. “I’ve got some other things to do. Thanks. I’ll catch up with you later.” I started across the grass.

“Megan,” Sophie called, hurrying after me. “Megan!” She waited till we were in the side yard, out of earshot. “What are you up to?”

“I have a lot to tell you,” I said, “but not now. I want to talk to Mrs. Riley, then go to the mill.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Go to the mill. I have a bad feeling about it.” Shaded by a cedar, her blue eyes were a flicker of light and shadow.

“Look, Sophie, don’t get prophetic on me. It’s the past I need info on, not the future.”

“I’m telling you, it’s dangerous.”

“I’ll watch where I step and look out for rodents.”

“You’re asking for it,” she warned.

“Is that a prediction?”

“Yes.”

“Want to hear my prediction?”

She looked surprised, then smiled. “From the person who claims she isn’t psychic? Okay.”

“Before I leave Wisteria, you and Alex are going to be totally in love.”

I left Sophie with a look of wonder on her face.

Mrs. Riley couldn’t see me. At first I suspected that the purpose of Grandmother’s visit had been to forbid the woman to speak to me, then I saw the worry on Jamie’s face.

“She’s had another bad night and is resting now. How about I fix you a late lunch? Some dessert?”

“No, thanks.” Though I hadn’t eaten that morning, I had no appetite.

“Try back later,” he said. “I’m sure she’ll feel better.”

I wandered up and down the streets of Wisteria, hoping for inspiration, some theory about what had happened sixty years ago that would help me understand what was going on now. Each time I tried to reject the idea of reincarnation, I came back to it. It was the one theory that explained all the strange things that had been happening. Sophie’s suggestion made sense: While sleepwalking I had moved the Bible, the clock, and the painting to where they belonged when I was Avril. Small matters fell into place, such as Matt’s reluctance to go to the mill. Did he remember something terrible happening there? Was he trying to get me away from Wisteria before I remembered?

On my wanderings I passed Tea Leaves, and Jamie flagged me down. He said his mother wanted to see me at four. I used the remaining time to look for Sophie, checking her house and Alex’s, then the college, but didn’t catch up with her. I browsed in a New Age bookstore, looking at covers and reading their fantastic blurbs, till the incense and tinkling music got to me-not to mention the weird shoppers.

They’re probably all Mrs. Riley’s patrons, I thought; and now I’m one of them.

At four o’clock the old woman was waiting for me, beckoning from the top of the café stairway. I climbed it and followed her down the narrow hall. When we sat at the table beneath the fringed lamp, I saw the deep circles under her eyes. There was a tremor on one side of her mouth that I hadn’t noticed before. She lay her palms flat on the table in front of her. Her fingers looked sore, the nails bitten down to the pink.

“What is it you want of me?” she asked.

I hesitated, torn between my own need to get answers and the realization that she wasn’t well.

“You want to know more about Avril and Helen,” she guessed.

“You look so tired,” I said, starting to rise.

“Stay!” She gripped my wrist with surprising strength. “I have been concerned about you and hoping to see you again. Ask your questions.”

I sat down and carefully pulled away my hand, lowering it into my lap. “I want to find out about reincarnation.”

“Go on.”

“Sophie told me it’s a chance to complete things that have been left undone,” Mrs. Riley nodded.

“She said that if a person died young, she might be reincarnated. Sometimes two people can be reincarnated together if they are separated too soon in a previous life.”

Mrs. Riley studied my face. “And you think that has happened to you?”

“I think I’m Avril.”

The old woman sat back in her chair. After a moment she said, “Do not be misled by appearances. You look like your great aunt, but that is not significant.”

“It’s not what I look like. It’s what I dream about. It’s what I seem to remember.”

The shrill whistle of a teakettle sounded in another room.

Mrs. Riley ignored it.

“What do you remember?” she whispered.

“Scarborough House. The dollhouse that looks like it. I dreamed about them before I saw them.”

“And?” she asked, her eyes as bright and sharp as the whistling sound.

“The mill, its basement, the big wheels in it.”

“And?” she pressed.

I bit my lip. “That’s it.” The dream about Thomas, Helen, and Avril was too uncomfortable, too personal to tell.

She looked at me doubtfully. “You must be honest with me if I am to help you.”

I stared down at the table and said nothing.

She stood up. “Very well. Think about it while I get my tea.”

As soon as she disappeared, I covered my face with my hands. What did I hope to prove-that Grandmother was guilty? Why reveal that now? It would only cause a lot of pain. Still, the doubt and suspicion that grew out of that dark secret were quietly poisoning the minds of Grandmother, Matt, and me.

Mrs. Riley reentered the room and set two cups on the table. “It’s cinnamon apple.”

“Thank you,” I said, then sipped the fragrant tea.

“Do you know anything about karma?” she asked.

“I’ve heard of it.”

“It is the belief that we are rewarded or punished in one life according to our deeds in a previous life.” She held her cup in both hands and gazed at her tea as if reading it, then took a long drink. “Karma is just,” she said. “According to it, the victim of an unnatural death will return in a later life and seek out the killer.”

“Seek out the killer?” I repeated.

“It’s justice, dear. If you take away someone’s life, then in the next cycle, your life will be taken by that person. The victim will kill the murderer.”

I stared at her. Did she know what I suspected?

“You’re remembering, aren’t you,” she said quietly.

I sipped my tea, avoiding her eyes.

“What is it?” she asked, her voice soothing. “Avril, tell me what you are remembering.”

“I had a dream,” I said at last. “Helen was very angry at me. She threatened me, said I would pay. But that doesn’t mean anything,” I added quickly. “Brothers and sisters say that all the time without meaning it.”

“True enough,” the psychic replied. “Do you remember anything else-anything from the day you died?”

“No.”

“And yet you are remembering more and more,” she said.

“I don’t know how to advise you.” She rose from the table and walked restlessly around the room. “I have my suspicions. To speak them may influence a clear memory.

Not to may endanger you. You know that Helen came to see me yesterday.”

I ran my finger around the moist rim of my cup. “Yes.”

“I warned you, child, not to tell her you were here.”

“But I didn’t. Someone in the café must have told her.”

“Can you trust your cousin?” Mrs. Riley asked. “YouVe hesitating. That tells me you can’t.”

“He’s very protective of Grandmother.”

Her hands worked nervously. “Then it would be foolish and dangerous to trust him.”

“Why?”

“He’s loyal to her, dependent on her money, and you fear the same thing I do-that you were murdered by Helen.”

For a moment the raw statement of my suspicion shocked me. I struggled to think clearly.

“But if I was the victim in my past life,” I reasoned, “I’m the one who is the threat now. According to karma, Avril would destroy her murderer-that’s what you said. And I would never hurt my grandmother.”

“The act does not have to be intentional.”

“But what if I make sure I don’t hurt her?” I argued. “What if I leave and never come back?”

Was that why Matt wanted me to go? Did he know more about this than he pretended?

“Karma is karma,” Mrs. Riley responded. “There is only one thing that can prevent the victim from achieving justice.”

“What?”

“Her own death.”

I looked at her, startled. “You mean, dying a second time?

You mean my death?”

“Now you understand why you must remember what happened that day. Just because you would not hurt others, doesn’t mean others won’t hurt you, not when it comes to saving themselves. You must find out your enemy.”

My mouth went dry. I felt as if I couldn’t breathe. “I can’t will myself to remember. I’m not psychic like you or Sophie. I have no control-the dreams come when they want to.”

Mrs. Riley came back to the table. “Today is the anniversary of Avril’s death,” she said, her voice calm, steadying me. “There is a window of time when the past will be open to you. Can you get to the mill?”

“Yes.”

“Go straightaway. Walk around it, breathe it, touch it.

Listen to its sounds, let it become part of your life again. Go inside and make yourself quiet there, let the past come back to you. Your life depends on it.”

I sat still as a stone.

Her brow creased, then she rested her veined hand gently on mine. “Finish your tea, child, then hurry. You haven’t much time if you want to be home before dark.”

I didn’t run fast, but when I reached the mill, I was out of breath and had a stitch in my side. I walked slowly around the building, waiting for the pain to ease, mulling over what I had learned from Mrs. Riley. If Grandmother had murdered Avril, then I, the reincarnated Avril, was destined to take Grandmother’s life. Did she know that? When she had gone to see Mrs. Riley, what had they talked about?

Grandmother would never harm me, I told myself. But then I thought, if she murdered her own sister, how hard would it be to do away with a grandchild, an adopted grandchild?

With sixty long years in between, another accident would not seem suspicious. And she could count on Matt to protect her.

Matt’s attitude toward me had changed in the short time between our first meeting and that moment on the dock.

Had he exploited my attraction to him to keep tabs on me?

“Tell me,” he’d said later, holding my face gently in his hands, seeming as if he wanted to help. Perhaps all he wanted was information and to keep me from looking further. I was more determined than ever to find out what had happened in this place.

Breathe it, touch it, listen to its sounds, Mrs. Riley had said. I pulled on the long grass, feeling its sharp edges. I took a deep breath and smelled the salty water. The creek lapped gently, slipping between grasses and stones. The birds sounded exceptionally loud and sweet to me. I emptied my mind of everything but the mill and felt as if I were walking in a dream.

Since I had left both basement doors open, I entered the mill easily. I looked across the room at the wheels, then forced myself to go to them, to touch the biggest one. I wrapped my fingers around a metal tooth and gripped it hard. Rusted saws and metal circles that looked like disembodied steering wheels lay here and there. It wasn’t a cozy place for two people to meet. The next floor up would be drier and brighter, I thought.

I saw the stairway along one wall, the same as in my dream, like a tilted ladder with wide wooden treads and no handrail. I walked under it and pulled on each step to see if it would support my weight. One split in half and two others cracked, but they were spaced well enough for me to climb to the trapdoor.

When I was near the top of the steps, I pushed against a square piece of ceiling. The trapdoor was heavier than it looked. I managed to shove it up, swinging it back against a wall, carelessly assuming the door would stay. It slammed down on me. I was stunned by the force and clung to the top step, feeling dizzy. There were small, scurrying sounds-the mill’s residents.

Determined to get to the next floor, I pushed against the trapdoor again. Then I grabbed a long piece of wood and placed it diagonally between the floor and the hinged door to prop it open. I climbed through and looked around the first-floor space.

Though the windows were shuttered, crooked seams of light shown through cracks in the plank walls. In one corner of the room was a round iron stove, missing its chimney pipe. Barrels and bins, burlap bags gnawed apart by rats, and frayed rope were strewn about. Narrow chutes built in long rectangular sections with elbow joints looked like the arms of wooden people coming down through the ceiling.

The ceiling itself gaped with holes. The trapdoor above the stairs to the second floor appeared to be open. Gazing up into it, I suddenly felt light-headed.

I found a millstone, half of a pair used for grinding, and sat on it. Closing my eyes, I ran my hands over its rough surface, feeling the long, angled ridges. Waves of confused images and sensations washed over me: the sound of voices, Thomas’s face, Matt’s, the clock chiming, the sound of engines, my name being called, footsteps against a hard surface. I wasn’t sure what was inside my mind and what was outside. I couldn’t tell what was then and what was now, when I was Avril and when I was Megan. Everything seemed real but distorted, the sounds and images stretched at the edges.

Hunching over, resting my head on my knees, I saw moving lines of light. I struggled to focus.

Light between the floorboards-that was it. Someone with a flashlight was walking downstairs. Did the person know I was here? Instinct told me to hide. I crouched behind a pair of barrels.

Peering around the edge of them, I saw the orb of light dodge its way up the stairs, held by an unsteady hand.

“Child? Are you here? It’s Lydia,” she whispered as she climbed the last step.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

“I need to talk to you. I have seen something and must warn you.”

Before I could emerge, another voice cried out. “Megan!

Are you in here?”

It was Matt. At the sound of his voice Mrs. Riley moved quickly, hiding behind a bin.

“Where are you?” Matt called. I heard him walking below us, then hurrying up the steps. “Megan? Answer me!”

His words brought back the memory with sudden force.

“Answer me! Answer me, Avril!”

Thomas’s hands gripped my shoulders. He shook me so hard my head snapped back. He started dragging me down the mill steps. My chest hurt. It felt like straps of steel had tightened around it. Every breath was agony.

I pushed away from Thomas, gasping, desperate for air.

He held me tighter. I tried to speak, but the darkness was closing in on me. I needed air!

I staggered to my feet, grasping the barrels to steady myself. Matt spun around. I was in the present again. I was Megan. But Matt’s eyes were identical to Thomas’s.

He started toward me.

“Run, child!” Mrs. Riley cried. “Run before he hurts you.

We both turned toward her. The surprise on Matt’s face quickly changed to anger.

“Shut up, old woman,” he said. “You’ve done enough.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” she replied, her eyes bright, challenging the fire in his. “Are you remembering now, Thomas?” she asked. “Are you remembering all of it now?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That’s why you came to me three years ago, isn’t it?”

Mrs. Riley continued. “You were seeing her face. She had come back to haunt you.”

Matt glanced at me, then back at Mrs. Riley.

“But you didn’t think you’d see her in flesh and blood again, did you?” she prodded.

“Your mind is twisted,” he said. “It’s been twisted for years. You’ve preyed on my grandmother’s fears. You knew she wanted to make Avril sick that night so she couldn’t meet Thomas. You gave her the redcreep and told her how much to put in the tea, but she cut that amount in half, and Avril was well enough to go. It was another dose, a later dose, that killed her. Still, you convinced Grandmother that she had given her sister too much, that she was responsible for her death. Grandmother had always been jealous, hurt by the attention Avril received, wishing that Avril would get out of her life. It was easy to change those feelings into guilt.

You enjoyed torturing her with false guilt.”

“I did enjoy it,” Mrs. Riley admitted. “She was so selfrighteous. But I believed it, too. I realized a second dose had been given”-her voice softened-“but I was so in love with you when you were Thomas.”

Matt took a step back from her.

“I was so naive,” she continued. “I couldn’t believe you had done it. It had to be Helen, I thought. I couldn’t accept that my Thomas was a cold-blooded murderer.”

He was the murderer? Waves of fear and nausea washed over me. Matt, not Grandmother, was the one who should fear me. Did he know it? I remembered the strange way he had looked at me the day we met. He had known from the beginning.

“I should have realized that it was Helen you wanted all along,” Mrs. Riley continued.

Matt’s dark eyes burned in his pale face.

“Avril was too unpredictable, too much of a flirt. But the fortune was hers. So you played up to her and killed her, then you and Helen got everything.”

His fists clenched.

“Nothing has changed since then,” Mrs. Riley added. “You still depend on Helen’s money. You will be loyal to her till the end.”

“You’re wrong,” Matt argued, “dead wrong.”

“Even when the other boys would come here to swim,” she said, “you couldn’t bear to be in this place. You told me so yourself.”

“I was an idiot to trust you.”

“Karma,” Mrs. Riley said softly. “Justice at last. Sixty years ago you wanted nothing to do with me, Thomas, not when you realized you could have the Scarborough girls.”

Matt turned his back on her. “She’s crazy, Megan. Let’s get out of here.”

“No.” My tongue felt thick in my mouth, and I struggled to speak clearly. “Stay away.”

“She’s a liar, a troublemaker,” Matt said. “I told you that before. You can’t believe her.”

“I do.”

He took two steps toward me. One more and he’d trap me behind the barrels. I moved my hand slowly, then shoved a barrel at him and ran past his grasp.

He whirled around. I faced him, my back to the wall, inching sideways, feeling my way along the rough wood, trying to get to the steps that led down to the basement.

“Listen to me. You’re not yourself,” he said.

“I know who I am.” The words came out slurred. “And who I was. So do you.”

He looked at Mrs. Riley. “What have you done to her?”

“I told her about karma,” the woman replied. “She knows what you know.”

“Megan, come here.” He held out his hand. “Come here!”

I shook my head and continued inching sideways.

“You must trust me.”

“I trusted you before.” My mouth moved slowly, my thoughts and words getting jumbled. “I trusted you when you were Thomas.”

Matt’s eyes darted around the room. His hands flexed, then he sprang at me. I lurched sideways and scrambled free. But he caught my shirt, yanking me back. Then something hissed and snapped between us. Matt let go, quickly pulling back his hand, burned by the rope Mrs. Riley had brought down like a whip.

I rushed blindly ahead, crashing into a plank of wood, part of the open stairs rising to the next floor. I clung to it. I had to get up. Had to get away from him.

Matt pushed back Mrs. Riley and came after me. “If you won’t come, I’ll drag you out of here.”

I started to climb, but it felt as if the stair, the entire room, was tilting. I could barely hang on.

Matt stood at the bottom, studying me.

“No closer,” I said. I didn’t want either of us to die.

He put a foot on the bottom plank. “Something’s wrong with you, Megan.”

“No closer!”

I pulled myself up another step, then another. It was like moving in a dream, climbing in slow motion.

Matt started up the steps, but Mrs. Riley came after him like a cat. I saw something flash in her hand. Matt dropped backward. He turned and struggled with her, grabbing her wrists. A knife flew across the floor.

“What have you done to her, Lydia?” he demanded.

“Nothing.”

“Liar!” he shouted. “You’ve poisoned her.”

The woman fought to get free. He pinned her hands behind her, then turned his face up to me. “Don’t run from me, Megan.”

I took two more steps up.

“Can’t you understand? You need help, medical help.

Come down.”

There was a pipe propping open the trapdoor. If I could get through the door and close it, I could use my weight to keep it shut.

“Please,” Matt said, grasping the ladder with one hand, “don’t let Lydia do this to us.”

I reached up to pull myself through.

“April!” he cried. “Don’t leave me again!”

It was the name he had written on my heart. I turned to look down at him. My foot slipped. Reaching out wildly, I grabbed hold of the pipe that propped open the door. For a moment it held me, then I felt its cold iron slide through my fingers, felt myself falling backward. I heard a rushing sound in my ears and plunged into darkness.

I opened my eyes in a white room with pale-striped drapes.

It smelled like raspberry bathroom cleaner.

“Where am I?”

“With me.”

I turned toward Matt’s voice.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

I lifted my head and glanced around. “Well, since I’m in a hospital, I can’t be feeling too well.”

He grinned. “You’re talking like yourself, and you’ve been acting like yourself. The nurse said if you pulled out your IV one more time, she’d staple it to you.”

“It’s out,” I observed.

“The doctor said that you’d come around soon enough, and then they’d irrigate you.”

“Oh, that sounds like fun.” I tried to sit up.

“Easy,” he said, and slid his arm behind me to help.

I rested back against him. “Thanks. You don’t want your arm back, do you?”

“Nah. Slide over.” He sat next to me on the bed. It felt good, the way he kept me close.

“Do you remember anything?”

“Yeah.” I took a deep breath. “If it was a dream, I’m crazy, and if it was real, some awful things have happened.”

“Some awful things have happened,” he said gently. “You may not want to talk about it yet.”

“The sooner the better,” I told him.

He leaned forward to study my face, then sat back again, convinced. “All right. You, Lydia, and I were at the mill, on the first floor. Do you remember our conversation?”

“You talked about who killed Avril, but it was confusing.

The sounds and images kept overlapping. Sometimes I was in the past, sometimes the present.”

“You were drugged.”

“Drugged? But I didn’t have anything to eat all day,” I protested. “Just tea at Mrs. Riley’s.”

Matt said nothing, waiting for me to figure it out. I felt as if I’d just been punched in the stomach. “She did it. She did to me what she did to Avril.”

He lay his cheek against my forehead. “I almost lost you a second time.”

“I remember that she tried to keep you away from me. I thought she was protecting me.”

“She didn’t want me to interfere before the poison took full effect,” he said.

I shivered. “She wanted to kill me, before I could kill her. I remember being at the top of the stairs. My foot slipped and I reached up for something. A pipe, but it gave way. I started falling. I don’t remember landing, just falling.”

One corner of Matt’s mouth turned up in that smirky smile of his, then I noticed the wrap on his left ankle. “Oh, no! Tell me I didn’t.”

“Okay. You didn’t come down like a ballerina,” he said, then laughed at me. “It’s just a sprain. But it’s the last time I’m catching you, so don’t try it again.”

“Thank you,” I said meekly. “How about Mrs. Riley-where is she? What has she told people?”

He didn’t answer right away. I felt his arms tighten around me. “Megan, Lydia has died. The pipe struck her.”

I went cold all over. “Oh, God!”

“It’s all right,” he said. “Everything’s all right now.”

“I did it,” I whispered.

“It was an accident.”

“But I did it!”

“You didn’t mean to. You know that.”

“Mrs. Riley said it would happen, intentional or not.

Karma.”

My eyes burned. Matt pulled my face against his and let my tears run down his cheeks.

Finally I reached for the tissue box.

“Okay?” he asked gently.

“For now.”

“I’ll be around later, too,” he said.

I looked up into his eyes. “When did you know about usabout us back then?”

“I dreamed about you, saw your face, from the time I was nine or ten. When I got to high school, I talked to Lydia and she told me about reincarnation. I thought she was nuts.

Then, when I described you, she said you looked like my great-aunt Avril. That’s all I needed to hear-l was out of there.

“I dated every girl who’d go out with me, but I couldn’t get interested in any of them. Finally-maybe it was sheer willpower-l stopped dreaming of you. A few months later Grandmother told me she had invited my cousin for a visit. I turned around and there you were.” He framed my face with his hands.

“You looked stunned,” I recalled.

“I was.”

“I still find it strange that Grandmother asked me here.”

“I know that she doesn’t believe in reincarnation,” Matt said. “Still, your resemblance to Avril unnerved her.

Grandmother’s a lot like you-she faces her fears-so she invited you. While we waited for you to come, she seemed so tormented, so obsessed with you, I disliked you before you arrived-at least I thought I did.”

I laid my head on Matt’s shoulder.

“Does Grandmother have any idea what’s going on now?” I asked.

“She knows that Lydia killed Avril, that she shifted her own motive for murdering Avril to Grandmother. Earlier today Sophie and Alex came to the house looking for you with information about redcreep. When I put together what they had learned with what Grandmother had told me the other night, I knew the timeline didn’t work out. Grandmother gave the dose too early-and gave too little. Someone else had a hand in it. We told Grandmother that and she called Lydia. Jamie said his mother had gone to collect some plants at the mill. Which is where you told Sophie and Alex you would be. Sophie was scared, said she had feared all day that something would happen there. I rushed to the mill.

Grandmother called 911.”

He buried his face in my hair. “I know I’ve been tough on you, Megan. I did whatever I could to keep distance between us. It was useless. At the party how do you think I knew you were watching out for Sophie?”

“I must have been pretty obvious.”

“And I was pretty busy watching you and Alex,” he said. “I was so jealous of him I thought I’d explode.”

I laughed, then covered my mouth.

He pulled away my hand and gazed at my mouth, as he had that night. “And then you tried to sell me on Sophie.”

“I didn’t know I had a chance.” I touched the curve of his lips with the tip of my finger.

“Megan, I love you. I will always love you.”

I swallowed hard.

“Scared?” he asked. “Yeah. How about you?”

“Even more than the first time,” he said. “I know what it feels like to lose you.”

Then he bent his head and kissed me.

Sometime after Matt left, Grandmother came in. I had dozed off and wasn’t aware of her until I felt her hand touch my hair, brushing it back from my face.

“You must get well,” she said, her voice shaking. “Megan, you must heal.”

I opened one eye. “Are you telling me what to do again?”

Grandmother stepped back quickly. I tried to catch her hand but couldn’t.

“Sorry. I was just being funny, just making a joke-trying to.”

I struggled to sit up. “You sounded so serious, Grandmother.”

“I was serious. You nearly died.”

We both looked away.

“Thanks for calling emergency,” I told her. “I owe you my life.”

“You owe me nothing.”

I frowned at her. “Because you don’t want me to?

Because that connects us somehow?”

A long uncomfortable silence followed.

I sighed. “It’s going to take a while for us to get used to each other, isn’t it?”

“I am who I am, Megan,” she replied. “I’m old. I can’t change now.”

“Change?” I repeated. “I wasn’t even going to try. Can’t we just stay as we are and get used to each other?”

I saw the small flicker of light in her eyes and the corners of her mouth turn up a little. “That,” she said, “may be feasible.”

A spite what I said about staying the way we were, I changed. I, who have always believed in speaking my mind and made it my mission to uncover the truth, have found myself keeping secrets. Sometimes life is more complicated than the simple rules we make for it.

In the morning that followed my poisoning, Grandmother, Matt, and I agreed to keep silent. Jamie believed his mother had become mentally confused, unintentionally giving me something that made me ill. He came to the hospital to tell us that, even brought the teacup from which I had drunk, so it could be tested and the doctors would know how to treat me. But I had already been diagnosed with an overdose of redcreep. We threw the cup in the trash.

Sophie and Alex came to the hospital together that day. I saw the brightness in Sophie’s eyes, then the delicate chain around her neck.

“That pendant looks familiar,” I said.

She smiled. “Alex bought it for me.”

In the year since, they’ve become the best of friends again, and the best of sweethearts-again.

As for Grandmother, she, too, has changed, though I certainly wouldn’t point it out to her. I suppose it’s hard to keep your life the same when two extra grandsons, my rough-and-tumble brothers, come barreling through on holidays.

Matt’s at Chase College now on a lacrosse scholarship.

I’m applying to colleges in Maryland. And we’re keeping another secret, though maybe not as well as we thought.

Just the other day Jamie stopped me on High Street. “You know,” he said. “I make wedding cakes.”