Never Knowing

“Melanie drives me nuts.”

“I wish you two weren’t so jealous of each other.”

“I’m not jealous of her, I just hate that she gets away with everything.”

“Dad’s just as hard on her, you know.”

I laughed. “Yeah, right.”

“He is — you just don’t see it. He’s always on her case about her job, telling her how well your business is doing and how big your house is and how successful Evan is. I think sometimes you two clash because you’re so alike.”

“I’m nothing like Melanie.”

“You’re both really strong people, and—”

“Nothing, Lauren.”

She was silent.

I sighed. “I’m sorry. I’m just going through a hard time.”

Her voice was gentle. “I know, hon. Call me anytime you want to talk.” But I didn’t, because as much as I loved my sister, there were some things she couldn’t help with, some things that would always separate us. She knew where she belonged.

When another week slipped by and I was still moping around, I decided it was time to make some changes. I stopped Googling the Campsite Killer ten times a day, stopped reading about genetics and deviant behavior, which only led to nightmares, and bought material for a birdhouse — something Ally had wanted to build for ages. We had so much fun working on it together, Ally giggling while she painted, waving the brush around and splattering paint all over her fingers and the table. And slowly the darkness started to lift. Evan and I even managed to have a nice dinner over at Lauren and Greg’s one weekend. Or at least it was nice until Dad showed up to go over some work stuff with Greg.

I felt terrible for Greg, listening to Dad berate him downstairs — when he knew we could hear in the kitchen. It was especially bad considering Dad came up after and told everyone he’d just hired a new foreman. Greg has been waiting years for Dad to promote him. Dad stayed for a beer and spent the entire time talking to Evan about fishing. It disgusts me that he plays favorites, but I was also disgusted at myself for feeling proud that he likes my fiance.

By the first week of April, I finally felt like my depression was behind me. I was sleeping through the night and staying awake during the day. I was spending hours in my workshop again and getting caught up on projects. I’d been feeling so good I even got up early this morning and went on a shopping bender for Ally. I dropped a ton of money on craft supplies and a Netbook, telling myself it would help her learn. I love buying her things: costumes, books, games, paints, clothes, stuffed animals. If Ally’s happy, I’m happy. As I walked back into my house carrying all the bags, the phone rang.

“You better come over tonight.” It was my father. And his tone told me I was in trouble — big trouble.

“What did I do wrong?”

“I got a call.…”

Dad paused for an excruciating minute. I held my breath.

“It says on the Internet that your father’s the Campsite Killer.” His voice was tight with anger, demanding an explanation. I tried to make sense of what he’d just said, but it felt like the wind had been knocked out of me.

“Did you know about this? Is it true?” His words hammered into me again, sending my pulse skyrocketing. This was the last way I wanted them to find out. I thought of Mom, of how hurt she was going to be. I dropped onto the hall bench, closed my eyes, and got it over with.

“I found my birth mother a couple of months ago.” I took a deep breath, then spat out the rest. “And it looks like my birth father is probably the Campsite Killer.”

Dad was silent.

I said, “Who called you?”

“Big Mike.”

Dad’s head foreman? How did he find out about this? The man is barely literate. Dad answered my questions for me.

“He said his daughter found it on Nanaimo News for Now.”

“You mean that gossip Web site?” I was already running upstairs to my computer.

Dad’s voice was hard. “You found your birth mother two months ago, but you didn’t say anything? Why didn’t you tell us you were looking for her?”

“I wanted to, but I just … Hang on, Dad.”

I typed in the Web site address and found the article.

Karen Christianson found in Victoria …

“Oh, no.”

I tried to read the article, but shock made the words jumble. I caught snippets. Karen Christianson … Only survivor of the Campsite Killer … Julia Laroche … Professor at the University of Victoria. Thirty- three-year-old daughter Sara Gallagher … Family-run business Gallagher Logging in Nanaimo …

It was out, everything was out.

Dad said, “How did they know she was your mother?”

“I have no idea.” I stared at the screen as panicked thoughts careened through my head. How many people had seen the article?

Dad said, “I’ll call Melanie and Lauren. I want everyone here by six. We’ll talk about it then.”

“I’ll e-mail the site right away and tell them—”

“I’ve already called my lawyer. We’ll sue their asses off if they don’t take this article down right away.”

“Dad, I can handle it.”

“I’m taking care of it.” His tone made it clear he didn’t think I could handle anything.

After he hung up I realized he’d said, “Your father’s the Campsite Killer.” Not your birth father, just your father.

Now you know why I’m so stressed out, Nadine. After I got off the phone with my dad I read the rest of the article, wanting to throw up the whole time. It had a ton of pictures of Karen Christianson — they even posted her staff photo from the university. I couldn’t believe how much detail was in it about me too, what I do for a living, stuff about Evan’s lodge. The only thing it didn’t mention was that I had a daughter — thank God.

Even though Dad had called his lawyer, I sent the Web site an e-mail asking them to remove the article and phoned every extension listed on the site, but no one called back. Yet again I was left feeling like an idiot who couldn’t do anything right. I tried to call Evan, but he was out on one of the boats with a group and wouldn’t be in until after dinner. Lauren wasn’t answering her phone, and she’s a stay-at-home mom. She was probably hiding out in her garden. I’m sure she’s dreading tonight’s meeting as much as me — Lauren hates it when people are upset.

Now I’m wondering if Melanie could’ve heard Lauren and me talking. But bitchy as Melanie can be, I just can’t see her doing something this mean. Of course, if she told Kyle … he looks like the kind of guy who’d sell his kid sister if he thought it would get him ahead. There’s no way Lauren or the PI would have said anything.

I haven’t been this scared about a family meeting since I had to tell my parents I was pregnant. Dad got up in the middle of that speech and left the room. I took Moose for a walk, hoping to get rid of all the nervous energy humming through my body, but I just ended up rushing back home to my computer. The article was still up when I had to leave for our appointment. I’m trying to calm down by reminding myself this can’t go anywhere if I don’t confirm anything. Dad’s lawyer works at one of the top firms in Nanaimo. He’ll have the article pulled off that site by the end of the day. People might gossip for a while, and then something else will take its place. I just have to wait things out.

But I have a feeling something worse is waiting for me.