“I did,” she cries. “Faye must have dug it out of the trash. You know how sentimental she was. She kept everything.”
“Please don’t be mad at Faye,” Quinn pleads, as if Faye was in the room and her feelings would be hurt. “You always told me my parents weren’t capable of caring for me. But if I have other family out there, I want to know them.”
“That’s why we’re here,” I say. “So you can get to know Trig … and he you.”
Quinn’s frown digs deeper this time and she shakes her head. “Why do you keep saying that? I want to know you.”
“This makes no sense.” Trig lets me go from his hold and moves in front of me. “All I know is I trust no one, not when everyone around Ellie has been after her in some form or another. What in the hell do you want with her?”
“The note…” Quinn looks back to her parents. “I’m a Montgomery, right?”
I reach out for Trig. There’s no way.
31
Dead Women
History is important. Set it free.
Ellie
“No.” Trig reaches for me but doesn’t take his eyes off Quinn. “We found my mother’s journals. You’re a Barrett.”
“No,” Tommie echoes, but her’s isn’t a rebuke—it’s a plea. She sits in the chair she was using for balance just moments ago and her face falls to her hands. “This can’t be happening.”
“The letter I found was from my mother,” Quinn explains as a sob wracks from Tommie’s body. Quinn goes to her and puts a hand on her shoulder. “Sorry, Mom. My birth mother.” She looks back to Trig. “What do you mean, I’m a Barrett?”
Aleron steps between his daughter and us and puts a hand up to Trig, demanding, “You’ve done enough. Leave. We need time alone with our daughter.”
Trig ignores him. “We found one of my mother’s journals. She found you with a note, probably the one you’re talking about—”
“Stop!” Tommie cries.
“For the love of God, get out of my house,” Aleron thunders.
Trig ignores them both and keeps speaking to Quinn. “My mom said you’re a Barrett. She was very clear about it and that’s why she brought you here. My father is an evil man and she didn’t want another child subjected to him.”
Quinn’s face falls and she looks to her parents. “You said my birth parents were dead.”
Tommie sobs into her hands and her husband tries to move for his daughter. “Sweetheart, it was for the best. Faye brought you to us for a reason.”
“No!” she pulls away from her father and looks back to Trig. “We share a father?”
Trig pauses. “According to my mother, yes. You’re my sister—half-sister, but sister all the same.”
Quinn—my sweet new friend—her face falls and I almost see the news sink into her features. Her father starts to reach for her again but she pulls back and shakes her head. “But the note … it didn’t say anything about my father. All it said was she couldn’t do it and she never wanted a baby and she didn’t want to catch shit from the Montgomerys. It was signed Silvie. It took, like, two google searches and I found a Silva Montgomery that was found dead soon after my birthday.” She looks to me. “Am I wrong?”
“Oh, shit.” It’s my turn to be shocked. I look from Quinn to Trig. “The dates … they make sense.”
“He’s alive?” Quinn pins Trig with her eyes—eyes I’m ashamed to say I didn’t recognize, but now it’s as clear as a spring, sunny morning. Hers are the same beautiful light tone as Trig’s—blue and crystal and a stark contrast to her coloring which is similar to Jen and my dad … and if memory serves from old pictures, my Aunt Silvie. “My father is alive?”
Trig exhales and looks to his younger sister. And for the first time since we got here, he softens his tone. “Yes, but he’s not anyone you want to know. Trust me.”
She shakes her head. “But you don’t know what it’s like to wonder where you came from. I’ve wondered since I was old enough for those thoughts to run through my head.” She looks to her parents, tears leaking from her beautiful blue eyes. “You lied to me. You told me you’d never lie to me. And Faye lied to me, too?”
Tommie stands, hemorrhaging desperation as she tries to explain to her daughter. “We did what we did because it was for the best—to protect you. Faye begged us to help.” She looks to Trig. “She said she could barely protect you from your father and she couldn’t take care of another baby and work at the same time. I think you were eight. She couldn’t bear the burden of raising another child on her own and we tried and failed for years to have a baby. I had miscarriage after miscarriage. We might’ve helped Faye but she gave us the most precious gift.” She turns to her daughter and her pain is evident. “You have to understand. We did what we did because we love you.”
Quinn shakes her head and backs up when her mother lifts a gentle hand for her, one I can tell has bared nothing but love. “No. There was a time you could have told me the truth. You knew how much I wanted to know about where I came from.” She points to me as she starts to yell at her parents, a side I’ve never seen from her. “You kept that from me. Did you think I’d stop loving you? I have cousins, an aunt and uncle,” she pauses and looks to Trig and her eyes turn wild with emotion. “I have a brother! I could have had them in my life but you were selfish and strict and kept me bottled up in private schools and music lessons and foreign languages and … and—just everything!”
