Page 7

I lie on my bed, shut my eyes, doze, and see her. Amelia, kneeling on the ground, weeping over a secret treasure box. Slowly, she turns her head to find me spying. “You don’t live in the real world!” dream Amelia yells.

Panting, I wake, wet strands of hair stuck to my sweaty forehead. I push myself up from Katie’s old mattress. In the dim room, I search blindly for the lamp I propped onto a moving box earlier. I find the switch and flick it on. My eyes scan over the packed boxes in this room and my luggage, still packed up, until I find it. My green bag—my book bag. I finger through each book until I find what I’m looking for: Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. I slip my hand into the front pocket for a pen and open to the back of the book. The blank back cover.

And then I fill it up.

I write down everything I can remember of Amelia and of the day I found her crying. The box. The floorboards. Logan, the curly-haired boy.

Seth?

I write how she turned around before I could leave, how she saw me, how I ran as fast as my eleven-year-old legs would carry me up the stairs and into my room. How I hid under the quilt on Dad’s old bed. She never came looking for me though. She never yelled.

Later, my family returned, and I was setting the dinner table. Amelia and I were alone in the dining room, and I was so afraid she’d scold me. Instead, she asked about one of my books, Pride and Prejudice. I told her that yes, I’d read it. She gave me the smallest of smiles. It wasn’t the smile I imagined she gave to the curly-haired boy, but still her mouth turned up. At me. It was surreal. She told me how it had always been her favorite book. Her eyes twinkled with the confession, and I found myself curious, wanting more. But just as we got started, we were interrupted. My family came in to eat and ended the only real conversation Amelia and I ever had. It made me believe that there was more to my grandmother than I realized.

And maybe it’s the reason I never told anyone her secret.

Four

Unsure of my plan, I rush toward the kitchen. Will I drive the twenty hours to Wyoming alone? Will Katie and Grayson want to come? Should I apologize to my father and ask him to chip in for a plane ticket? With Amelia’s funeral just three days away—maybe two now—I need to stop stressing over things and act.

I stop short, Mom watching me from the kitchen bar. “Hello, Livy.” Last night, she stayed neutral. At least, once I started talking. It would have been nice to have some backup.

I attempt to keep the irritation from my voice. “Where is everyone?”

“Katie’s at school, and Dad and Benjamin went to work.”

“Work!” I shove my fist into my mouth to stop myself from cursing in front of her. “With Amelia—I spaced⁠—”

“I’m pretty sure you made it clear you wouldn’t be in today. Remember?” Mom clasps her hands together.

“I remember.” I bow my head, still struggling to believe all I said last night.

“Didn’t you mean it?”

Peering up into my mother’s kind eyes, I answer, my temper in check. “I did. I just⁠—”

“What?” She raises one penciled brow. “You said what you meant and now you’re regretting it? Don’t. You were right.” She tilts her head to the side and squints. “Well, you were mostly right. Maybe you can go to her next funeral was a touch overboard.”

I slap a hand over my eyes. Did I really say that to my father? “I didn’t mean to get so irate. But I don’t understand him. How can he not go?”

“Oh, you changed his mind. He was up half the night. He’s making the arrangements for both of you as we speak.” Mom scoops her auburn hair behind one ear and reaches out for my hand. “What I don’t understand is why you want to go.” She squeezes my fingers. “Don’t get me wrong, Liv, I’m glad you do. I’m glad you persuaded your dad when I couldn’t, but you barely knew her, honey. You were afraid of her. Why is this so important to you?”

“I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I can’t explain. It just is.”

“Fair enough.” She smiles, releasing her hold on me. “You better go pack. You’ll be leaving in an hour or so.”

“Ben—”

“He’ll be fine. He’s made himself right at home, and he was thrilled to go to work this morning.”

I nod. She’s right. Benjamin has been waiting for this opportunity his whole life. “You aren’t coming?”

“Katie has a competition. He said as long as I stay to hold down the fort, he’d go.”

“So, just the two of us then?” I blow out a sigh. This is going to be interesting.

I throw my large, overstuffed backpack into the rear seat of Dad’s Cadillac, holding my cell between cheek and shoulder. “I know, Benjamin. I’m sorry. It’s just⁠—”

“And you’re taking Dad to this woman’s funeral because⁠—”