Chapter
Fifteen

I left my father downstairs with Reuben. Although I needed time to deal with the truth about my birth, finding Ryan had to come first for now.

I knocked on Zac’s door. It was opened by Esther.

“Everything okay, honey?” she asked.

I nodded. “Fine. I wonder if I could have a moment with Zac?”

“Of course. I think he’s tired of my company anyway. Old women’s stories aren’t very interesting.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” I said, trying to paste a smile on my face. “I’ll be downstairs in a few minutes.”

After Esther closed the door behind her, I went over and stood next to Zac’s bed. He was sitting up, Clyde curled next to him. I was pleased to see that Zac’s color was much improved.

“I have to ask you a couple of questions,” I said, keeping my voice low.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said. “I thought I was the sick one.”

“I can’t get into everything now, but this has been quite a day, and it’s barely begun. You picked a really bad time to get sick.”

“Sorry. Next time I’ll try to pick a more convenient time to almost die.”

“I’m glad you’re okay, Zac. Now shut up and listen.”

His eyes widened, but he didn’t say anything.

“First of all, did you hear from your friend last night?”

He shook his head. “Wow. I forgot all about that. I seem to remember hearing my phone ring, but I was too sick to answer it.” He gazed around the room. Then he pointed at the dresser. “There it is. Hand it to me.”

I grabbed the phone and took it back to the bed. “Before you check your messages, tell me something. The fudge I gave you last night. Do you remember it now? You didn’t earlier.”

At first Zac look confused. Then awareness changed his expression. “Oh yeah. The fudge. I do remember. I ate a couple of pieces, but it wasn’t very good. I threw the rest of it away.”

“I looked in your trash. The box wasn’t there.”

“I emptied my trash can before I went to bed. It was overflowing, so I took it downstairs. Tossed everything in the big metal trash bin on the side of the house.”

“Okay. I’ll have to look out there.”

“Why in the world . . .” Realization dawned. “You think the fudge made me sick?”

“I have no idea, but when I asked Esther about it, she said she didn’t put that box in my room. There was a note too that said, ‘Welcome.’ I threw that away. Wish I’d kept it now.”

“Wow. That’s interesting.”

“Yes, and a bit scary.”

Zac nodded. “I’ll be checking out everything I put in my mouth from now on.” He frowned. “What else did you want to ask me?”

I pointed at his phone. “It was about your friend. Check your messages.”

Zac punched several options on his phone and then looked up. “No message, but he did call. I’ll call him back now.” He immediately pressed a button, put the phone to his ear, and then waited. After a moment, he shook his head. “It’s going to voice mail.” I listened while he left a message and then hung up. “Sorry. We’ll just have to wait for him to call back. What’s going on?”

Trying hard to keep my emotions in check, I quickly told him about my father’s revelations and about the note stating Ryan was still alive.

“Wow, Wynter,” he said when I finished. “I can’t believe it. Are you okay?”

I shook my head. “No, but I’ve got to think about Ryan now. That note makes me think that Elijah really is Ryan.”

“Maybe, but it only said your brother was alive. It didn’t say he was Elijah.”

I sat down on the edge of Zac’s bed. “You’re right. The one thing I don’t understand—”

“You mean there’s only one?”

Even though I didn’t feel like it, I smiled involuntarily. “No, you’re right. There’s a list of things I don’t get, but one point really bothers me.”

“And what is that?”

“If the person who sent the note knows what’s going on—I mean, if he knows where Ryan is—why doesn’t he just tell us?”

Zac sat up a little straighter in bed. “Good point. It’s like he’s playing a game.”

“Or like he wants to help us but yet he doesn’t.”

Zac fell back against his pillows. “It’s too much for me to figure out. I’m too weak. My brain is barely functioning.” He frowned at me. “Did you call Ed?”

“Yes, and we have some extra time.”

“I’m sure he wasn’t happy about it.”

“No, but what could he say?”

“I guess my near-death experience isn’t all negative.”

“Funny.” I pulled my legs up and clasped them with my hands. “I’ve got to get back downstairs. I have no idea what to say to my father.”

Zac sighed. “Look, Wynter, I’m the last person to give advice on family. My father took off when I was a kid and never came back. There’s a man downstairs who went through a lot to be your father. And he’s still trying. I know all this has been a shock, but if he didn’t love you—and your brother—he wouldn’t be here now, right? And he certainly wouldn’t have told you the truth about what he did.”

“Maybe. I don’t know. At least I understand some things now that I didn’t before.”

“Like why everyone else in your family has dark hair?”

“No, but good point. I was thinking about why my father changed so much. Why he sold our house. But—”

“But what?”

I turned to look directly at him. “He said my mother asked for the divorce. It’s the first time I ever heard that. Why didn’t she tell me the truth?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes it’s easier to blame others for what we do. Maybe she holds him accountable for what happened.”

“That makes sense. I guess he yelled at Ryan that last morning, before Ryan got on his bike. My mother blames him because my brother never came home.”

“But it wasn’t his fault, Wynter. The real blame lies at the feet of the person who took him.”

“I know that.”

Zac reached over and put his hand on my arm. “Maybe you should point that out to your dad. It might help him.”

“He doesn’t feel like my dad right now.”

Zac pulled his hand back and shrugged. “Then who is? The man who sold you?”

His comment felt like a slap in the face. I couldn’t form a response. Instead, I started to cry.

“Oh, man. I’m sorry.” He struggled to sit up again. “I’m such a jerk. I didn’t mean to be so blunt.”

“No, it’s not you,” I said between sobs. “It’s just such a shock. Feels like my life has been turned upside down.”

“I understand.”

“I know you’re right, Zac. It’s all just too much to handle right now. But I need to focus on Ryan, not me.” Suddenly, a horrifying thought popped into my mind. “I’m not really Ryan’s sister.” The words came out in a whisper.

Zac grabbed my hand. “Wynter, look at me.” When I did, I saw determination in his face. “Answer this question without thinking first. Without pausing. Will you do that?”

I nodded slowly.

“Is Ryan your brother?”

I started to hesitate, but Zac shook his head. “No hesitation. Is Ryan your brother?”

“Yes,” I blurted out. “He’s my brother. He always will be.”

“Then doesn’t that make you his sister?”

I squeezed his hand. “How does a smart aleck like you get to be so intelligent?”

He shrugged. “I like to keep my super intellect a secret.”

I smiled at him. “I don’t think that will be a problem.” I tried to pull my hand away. “You can let go of me now. I’m okay.”

He released me. “All right, but if you need me, you know where to find me.”

“Yes, I do. In bed, milking all the attention you can get.”

“Hey, as you said, I’m no dummy.”

I looked into his eyes. “No, you’re not a dummy; you’re a good friend. I doubt anyone else on this planet could get me to smile right now—except you.”

“Thank you for that. I know I don’t really deserve to be your friend. I was ready to betray you, but you understood and forgave me. That’s a rare quality.”

I knew he was hinting about my father, but I didn’t say anything. I hadn’t moved anywhere close to forgiveness yet. It was too soon. “Just let me know when you hear from your friend. I’d really like to know if Elijah was born in Jamesport before we go any further with this.”

He nodded. I turned to go, but he called my name.

“Yes?”

“Hang in there, Wynter. You’ll get through this. I just know it.”

“Better be careful. You’re starting to sound like one of those religious nuts you hate so much.”

He traced a pattern on his quilt with his index finger. “Maybe they’re not all as nutty as I thought.”

Not knowing what to say, I just nodded, closed the door behind me, and headed downstairs. Instead of going into the living room, I cut through to the kitchen and went out the back door. I found Esther’s large metal trash bin next to the house, but it was empty. The trash had been picked up, probably earlier this morning. Now there was no way to find out if the fudge was responsible for making Zac sick.

When I went inside I found my dad pacing back and forth across the living room floor. I heard Reuben’s voice, but he became silent when I walked into the room.

“Don’t stop talking on my account.”

“It can wait,” Reuben said. “How’s Zac?”

“Doing good. He sent a friend of his to Jamesport to check out Elijah’s story, but we haven’t heard from him yet.”

“What story?” Dad asked.

“Supposedly Elijah was born there. If that’s true, obviously he can’t be Ryan.”

“I would be shocked if he’s not,” Reuben said. “You’ve apparently stirred up something.”

I sat down in the rocking chair. “I guess you’re right. So at what point do we call the police?”

“I don’t know,” Reuben said, shaking his head. “We don’t really have anything to give them yet.”

“Even if this friend of Zac’s says Elijah wasn’t born in Jamesport, it doesn’t necessarily mean it’s true,” Dad said. “Unless his information is something more than hearsay, it can’t be trusted.”

I sighed. “You’re right. I hadn’t thought of that.” I frowned at Reuben. “Maybe we need to go there ourselves. Now that I’ve got a little extra time—”

“No,” Dad said. “I’ll go.”

I started to protest.

“Emily, I need to help. Please. This is my son. Let me be involved.”

Before I could respond, someone started pounding on Esther’s door. I went over to open it and found a woman standing there. “I’m Janet Dowell, a friend of Esther’s. Is . . . is Reuben King here?” She was younger than I’d imagined, with sandy-blond hair and blue eyes that were wide and full of tears.

Reuben stepped up behind me. “Hi, Janet. What’s going on?”

“It’s August.”

“What about him? Has he come back?”

She shook her head as tears spilled down her cheeks. “No, Mayor. They found him in a field outside of town. He’s . . . he’s dead.”