Page 45 of The Haunting of Paynes Hollow

Thirty-Six

Ben wasn’t exaggerating his legal expertise. The property is mine, and my grandfather included a poison pill that keeps my uncle and cousin from challenging it—if they do, their own inheritance is tied up until the case is over, and it’s forfeit if they lose.

So I have the property, which I will never set foot on again. I am also the sole beneficiary of my aunt’s will and life insurance, and I’ll receive it whenever she’s declared legally dead. I won’t think about that. I can’t.

As for the property, I’m not selling it for ten million. I don’t know what I want to see done with the land our cottages sit on, but even if I’m convinced no one is in danger by being there, I don’t want it developed into million-dollar vacation properties.

I have sold part to a developer, though.

I’ve severed and sold fifty inland acres near to Paynes Hollow.

I’ll clear nearly two million after taxes.

The town approved of the decision and granted me speedy severance approval, and they’re looking forward to the new subdivision, mixing affordable housing with modest vacation homes.

That gave me the money to pay Ben, quietly slip another hundred grand to Liz Smits, settle my debts, and do pretty much anything I want, med school included.

Now I just need to get through this one thing.

Inside the doors to the care facility, Nurse Vickie meets me, and she’s beaming. “Your mother is having an excellent day. The best she’s had in months.”

Which is what I’ve been waiting for, but I only smile and say, “Good. So she’s lucid?”

“Very lucid. It happens sometimes. A ray of sunshine in the dark.” She casts a worried glance my way. “It doesn’t mean she’s recovering…”

“I know.”

“But it’s lovely to see, and I’m so glad you’re here for it.”

“So am I.” I look at her. “Is it okay if Mom and I speak in private? Maybe on the side deck? It’s a lovely day, and if she’s in a good place mentally, I want her all to myself.”

“Of course. I know she’s hoping to go out, but you can start in there.”

“Thank you.”

I head to the side deck. It’s smaller than the main one, without the gorgeous view of the river. I lean on the railing, looking out and thinking.

“There you are.” Mom’s voice comes as the sliding door whooshes open and then shuts again. “I’ve been waiting for you all morning, Sam.”

A month ago, I’d have flinched with guilt. Mom woke up lucid and asked for me, and I didn’t get here until … I check my watch. 9:20. Yep, I didn’t exactly leave her dangling all morning.

She walks over and air-hugs me, just the lightest touch.

I always told myself there was nothing wrong with that.

Lots of people aren’t huggers. Yet I’d always felt rejection in it, especially as a child, when my dad would scoop me up and hold me close and pull my mother into the embrace, and she’d give that moue of distaste.

Mom continues, “I know you wanted to talk, Sam, but I really do need to go out. My good spell won’t last, and I want to take full advantage. Get my hair done. Buy some new clothing. We can talk in the car, yes?”

Again, a month ago, guilt would have washed over me.

Of course Mom would want to use her limited lucid time to full advantage.

Sure, the home had an excellent hairstylist who visited monthly and my mom’s closet held three times as much clothing as my own, but what sort of monstrous daughter would deny her ailing mother these small pleasures?

Maybe the same daughter who always hoped her mother would want to spend her lucid time with her, and not simply treat her as a credit-card-bearing chauffeur.

“Sit down, Mom.”

She sighs. “Sam, darling, I can sit anytime. I want—”

“We need to talk about the nekkers.”

She goes still, and when her gaze slowly moves my way, there’s something like panic in it before she erases it with a wave. “This is something to do with your job, I presume? Some medical terminology.”

“The nekkers in the lake. At the Paynes Hollow property. The drowned dead and the headless horseman.”

Her laugh comes high and tight. “Ah, the horseman. You have been traipsing down memory lane. Those old stories with your grandfather. I never heard the ones about … what did you call them? The drowned dead.”

“Cut the shit, Mom.”

Her head whips my way, eyes narrowing. “I beg your pardon?”

“I spent the last week at the lake. Had a nice chat with your old boyfriend, Craig Smits.”

She stiffens. “If you mean that sheriff, the man is a boor. I felt sorry for his wife and befriended her—”

“He’s dead now. Killed by the nekkers. Gail is dead, too. Killed by the horseman, because no one bothered to warn her what might happen if she struck me, even unintentionally.”

My mother goes still, and I want to say the look creeping into her eyes is horror for Gail’s death, but I know better. It’s horror on realizing I might actually know what I’m talking about.

“I’ve found the journal,” I say. “I’ve seen the drowned dead.

I’ve seen the horseman. Spent a night with him standing guard.

Bram. That was his name in life. But you know that, from the journal Smits gave you.

You bonded me to the horseman, resurrecting the old legends, using the magic to fend off your disease.

It worked, too, until Austin died and you told Smits to shoot Dad and blame him for Austin, and then my grandfather booted you off the property.

You snuck back for one more sacrifice with Smits, only it wasn’t enough.

Without me staying there the whole summer, the magic faded, and soon you were in no shape to renew it …

and the disease took hold.” I meet her gaze.

“You killed innocent people, including my father. And for what? You still ended up here, losing your mind.”

“I don’t know what—”

“You killed my father,” I say, struggling to whisper-hiss the words when I want to shout them, struggling against the tears I’ve been shedding for days now.

“You had Smits murder him and even that wasn’t enough.

You wrote his suicide note, having Dad take the blame for killing Austin so there’d be no doubt.

You murdered him and then shredded and burned his memory.

You stole my father from me in every way possible, and then you didn’t even bother to replace him.

Always only half there, always with better things to do than take care of your grieving daughter. ”

Her head tilts, mouth moueing in a calm way that sends shivers through me. “Are you well, Sam? You’ve been under a great deal of pressure. I know it was such a disappointment, not getting into medical school.”

I blink at her. “Not—not getting in? I got in. You needed the money for your care.”

“Now, Sam, you know that was just what we said when you didn’t get in. That you graciously let me use your tuition money, which was mine after all.”

I sputter. “Yours? Dad’s the one who started the fund, and the only one who contributed to it. As for not getting in, I still have the offers of admission.”

She sighs. “Sam, there’s no shame—”

“Here,” I snarl, fingers trembling as I hit my phone screen.

“I have them right here. Two offers, which I have kept on my phone and every now and then, when things get really bad, when I’m working at midnight to make extra money or eating fucking ramen again, I open them up to remind myself that I could have done it, that maybe someday I will do it.

And then I’d open a photo of you to remind me why I’m not doing it now. ”

“Sam, you’re getting all worked up—”

I shove the phone at her. “This is the photo of you I pull up. This one, where you’re smiling and looking at me like you love me. It’s the only one I have like that. It was taken the day I said I wouldn’t go to fucking med school so you could have the fucking money.”

“Watch your language, young—”

“You aren’t even listening to me. Not hearing me.

You never did. This photo”—I wag the phone—“is a lie that I clung to. The lie of a mother who never was. You ordered your lover to murder my father. You framed him for a child’s death.

You told me Dad was a monster, and you wouldn’t let me talk about him.

When I begged for us to move away, you said no, some bullshit about your dad and his dementia, despite the fact you barely visited him.

You had friends, a good job, a support network, why would you leave Syracuse?

You forced me to stay in the same goddamned school, where everyone knew my father was a murderer, where I was the child of a killer. ”

“You loved that school. That’s what I remember, and if—”

“You made me stay with my grandfather that week, and it was hell, and I hated you for it. Then I got older and I felt so guilty for the hate. You were only trying to help, right? Trying to repair the relationship? No, you threw me to him in hopes I’d soften his heart and he’d give you the money you needed. ”

“Oh, that’s nonsense. You’re rewriting history, Sam—”

“Do you like it here, Mom?” I wave at the home. “Best place money could buy, even if it meant I lived in the tiniest, shittiest apartment I could find, working endless hours, letting my cat die because I couldn’t afford her care.”

“Are you really comparing my care to your cat’s?”

“But it’s fine now. I came into a shitload of money from my grandfather. Enough to buy a swanky condo, go to med school, get all the cats.”

Her lips tighten. “Good for you.”

“It is. I deserve it. I mean, Gail deserved it. So did Dad. But I’m finally accepting that I do, too. Still, this place…” I look at the building and wrinkle my nose. “Do you deserve it, Mom? That’s the real question.”

Her eyes narrow. “Samantha Jane—”

“Do you know what I think you deserve? A jail cell. But since you won’t get that, I’m giving you the next best thing. I’m giving you…” I lean toward her and smile. “Nothing.”

She blinks.

I back up. “You’re paid up here for the next three months. After that? Whoops, seems my phone number no longer works. I’m no longer living where I was. No longer working where I was. No one can find me to pay for your stay. No one can find me to pay for that trial medication. Such a damned shame.”

“You’re angry. I understand that.”

I sputter a laugh. “Angry? No, Mom. I’m fucking furious. I’m a broken fucking mess, thanks to you, and the only satisfaction I’m going to get is imagining you wasting away in whatever shitty care facility your insurance will cover.”

“You can’t do this,” she says, her voice low with warning. “I’m your mother. Someone will make you—”

“Pay for your care? Uh, no. You aren’t a child.

I don’t owe you shit. But if you want to try, you can sue me for it.

Tell the nurses I’m leaving. Send someone to force me to pay.

It won’t work—I’ve consulted with two lawyers—but if you want to try, go for it.

Just know that if you do, I’ll be forced to retaliate. ”

“With what?”

I smile at her. “Oh, I have a few cards, and they’re all aces. Just remember this—whatever place they put you, it’ll be better than what will happen if I play those cards and show the world what kind of person you really are.”

I’m bluffing, but the rising fury in her eyes tells me I’ve pulled it off.

I head for the door.

“Samantha Jane, don’t you dare—”

“Bye, Mom. Remember that I loved you. That Dad loved you. And for his sake, I hope you get everything you deserve.”

That evening, as the sun sets, I make one last stop.

I’ve left my aunt’s car at her condo, with the keys in it, and Ben and I drove here in his pickup.

It’s a piece of junk, but we’ll replace it soon enough.

We’ll need something better for the next part of our plan.

For now, we’ve done everything we needed to do, settled our affairs, and stuffed our bank accounts full of cash.

Ben parks the pickup and gets out, but he stays behind as I walk, my arms full of flowers, to kneel at the headstone beside my grandfather’s.

At my father’s grave.

I lay the flowers down and touch my fingers to the marble. I’ve never visited before. If there was a service, we weren’t invited. My grandfather handled all that.

“Hey, Dad,” I say, as my eyes fill. “Sorry it took me so long.”

My voice catches, and I let the tears fall.

After a moment, I continue, “I want to apologize for all the rest, too. For not believing you. For telling Mom what I saw. For listening to the lies. But if you were here, you’d say none of that was my fault.

I’m going to try—really try—to lay the blame where it belongs.

On Mom and on Craig Smits. I can still wish… ”

My throat clogs, more tears falling. “I’ll try not to do that either. Wishing won’t fix anything, and you’d want me to move on. That’s what I’m going to try to do.”

I shift, getting comfortable. “I’m going on a road trip.

Remember how you and I always talked about that?

When I graduated from high school, we’d drive around the country all summer.

Just the two of us. Well, that’s what I’m doing, and I’m sorry it’s not with you, but I won’t be alone.

Remember Ben Vandergriff? He’ll be with me. ”

I laugh softly, as if hearing my dad’s reply.

“No, not like that. We’re just friends. I don’t know if it’ll ever be more, but for now, what we both need is a friend.

We’re…” I swallow. “We’re broken, Dad. Both of us.

We’ve spent years pretending we aren’t, and we need to stop pretending and deal with it.

Deal with what happened fourteen years ago.

Deal with what happened this summer. We’re going to do that together, because no one should do it alone. ”

I swallow and force a smile. “We’re going to adopt a dog, too. Remember how you always wanted to do that, but Mom hated pets? Ben and I are hitting the shelter later. Adding another stray to our little pack.”

I press my fingers to the gravestone, tears running down my face. “I’m sorry you faced those last moments alone. I’m sorry you faced your own fears and worries alone. You tried to protect us, and you died for it, and I am so, so sorry. I love you. Love you so damn much.”

I lean forward until my forehead touches the cool marble, and I just sit like that for a few minutes, thinking and regretting and promising.

Then I say my goodbyes, rise, and walk to the pickup.

Ben silently opens the passenger door for me, and I climb in, and as we drive away, I watch my father’s grave until it disappears behind us.